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gutsby · 8 months ago

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Wants and Needs

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Joel x Reader

Summary: Bills are high; your dad’s boss wants to help. How you pay him stays between you and him—for now.

Warnings: 18+. Protected piv. Explicit power imbalance in an exchange of sex for money, so dubcon, technically. Soft dom!Joel. Sex toys. Squirting. Oral (f!receiving). Overstimulation. Daddy kink. Age gap. Praise kink.

Note: Bohanan’s is a steakhouse in San Antonio, TX.

Word count: 8.4k

You wanted a car. Joel needed to cum.

It wasn’t the arrangement a girl your age should’ve made, but what could you do? Your dad drank half of your college funds away, and your mom was long gone.

The next best thing was Mr. Miller, your father’s boss. He’d understood better than anyone what money could buy. What it might do. For him, it was pleasure. For you, it was a future—or what little remained after bills and loans and exorbitantly-priced car repairs bled you dry.

You took the job at the firm on a whim. You didn’t want to be a lawyer anymore, though your dad and Joel were. You didn’t want to be done with law school, though 3L had already long since ended, and that dreaded so-called ‘minimum competency’ test was drawing close on the horizon. In short, you couldn’t afford to pay for bar prep.

With Joel, you could.

It was true that tax law paid pretty well, but a part-time job would never really be enough when your family was treading water at all times. Your dad liked to gamble and drink, and your brothers got all of their brains from him.

You got the short end of the stick, plus the receiving end of another. Lucky for you, Joel’s felt pretty good going in.

Today you were somewhere south of Austin. Your truck wouldn’t start last week, so you’d agreed to come along on this business trip knowing full well what you planned on asking your boss as soon as you had a moment alone.

“CDP hearing at…9:45.” You checked the itinerary twice.

“Alright.” Joel nodded.

“Lunch with Javier, Ezra, and Dave at twelve.”

“Mhmm.”

“Phone call with Revenue Officer Acacius at 3:30.”

“For the…?”

“Martells.”

“Okay.”

“I finished Lucien Flores’ Form 433-F for your review and left notes—” You stopped to tap your finger on a short white pile of papers between you and Joel on the desk, “—in the margins. Still need bank statements from him.”

“Lovely.”

Joel eyed the stack at first, but his gaze strayed a little.

“You should probably plan to talk strategy with my dad before Mayor Garcia’s audit tomorrow, too. Looks like a couple non-cash contributions are being disputed now.”

For a second, your eyes flitted up to him, too. It was brief.

“Sure. When’s your daddy free?” he said.

You blinked, then scanned the schedule.

“Looks like five…or six, maybe. He’s got a consult with—”

“I wasn’t talking about your father.”

You looked back up. Joel was smirking, of course. His hand had drifted a comfortable, innocent distance past the papers and across the table, to you. The pair of you happened to be in one of the glass-paneled conference rooms nearest the hotel lobby, so he had to be discreet.

He never let his fingers stray too long on yours in public. Presently, his thumb grazed your knuckles extra slow.

Posing a question, maybe.

You didn’t have the time to be tactful now, unfortunately.

“I need $2,700.”

Joel, your boss, your daddy, whatever, had to pause at that. He didn’t move his hand immediately, but he did stare harder. Longer. He searched your face for the joke.

“$2,700?” he repeated.

“Yes sir,” you answered out of habit, wincing only a little, “My truck stopped running last week, and it’s just…a lot.”

The cost. For Joel, it wasn’t even a drop in the bucket, but in your world, it was a make-or-break, fuck-your-whole-budget-for-the-next-six-months kind of bad. Suddenly, your cheeks felt warmer than they did before, and you forced yourself to look away. Peering out across the wide and gently rolling terrain of San Antonio and trying to pretend there was something thrilling to see. You’d almost forgotten how much you hated asking this.

“I can make the deposit tonight—” Joel started.

“No,” you interrupted. You wanted to turn but couldn’t. You just shook your head and kept staring out there, “Not now, I mean…I need to earn it over time, I just…”

You stumbled over the words. It was like your lips, your tongue, and your teeth were all suffering from the same sort of embarrassment pervading the brain, and you couldn’t bring your mouth to form the sentences right.

I’m not asking for a handout. I need to earn the money.

However ‘earning’ may have been grossly misconstrued in the context, it was a labor all the same. You didn’t love it, but you didn’t hate him, either. Joel was nice, albeit old enough to be your father, and it didn’t seem that he was nearly as predatory or perverse as he could’ve been. You’d been working for him for two months now, and the idea had been your own when the cash had gotten tight.

Back in April, you’d explained to him, calmly, that you couldn’t take the bar exam unless you got some extra money quick. That you wouldn’t accept his charity, but you’d pay him back in other ways. Joel had been against it at first—you were the daughter of his best friend, after all—but eventually, his carnal needs won out over his sense, as every other man would’ve done, you guessed.

At first, you’d started slow, but that hadn’t lasted very long. You fucked him regularly now, though never had you asked for an amount of cash this big out of nowhere.

Joel blinked and put a hand on his hip, like he always did when he wasn’t sure what to say. The silver in his soft, dark locks shone more in this light. He’d lost the smirk.

“You’ve done…plenty.” Now sounding sheepish.

You tried to protest again; Joel stopped you.

“I mean it. Hey, look at me,” he said next.

You did, hesitatingly. You turned from the window, and out of instinct, folded your arms over your chest. Joel paced closer to you and then he was watching. Pausing.

Brushing your arm with his and glancing once over your shoulder to make sure no one else was around to see.

He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your temple.

When he pulled away, your skin was practically ablaze.

“Mr. Miller—”

“Joel,” he corrected, quiet, “And you’ve done enough. Let me cover the car just this once, okay? Sweetheart?”

You didn’t realize you were pivoting again. That your gut was doing somersaults and your heart was ready to climb up and out of your throat. Your neck was burning.

It wasn’t even anger you sensed was simmering under the skin until you turned back to him, and your eyes flashed with ire before the words were even spoken.

“I don’t need your pity, Mr. Miller. I said I want to pay.”

“It’s Joel. And I said you’ve done enough, so—”

Ire morphed to something more in a blink.

You didn’t mean to say it, but you did.

“Fine,” you huffed, suddenly exasperated, “If you’re so fucking opposed to me paying my way for this one simple thing, I’ll get another guy. Forget I asked.”

It was a low blow, for sure. Joel knew how badly you’d wanted this to stay between just you and him—and he would never dream of seeing you ‘earning your keep’ with anyone else. His expression said as much as soon as he’d heard your words; his whole face hardened at once.

But then you’d turned to leave. You didn’t care what he wanted to tell you, and if you did, you certainly weren’t brave enough to stick around to hear Joel say it then.

So you left. He had a full, busy day ahead of him anyway.

You woke up wet.

In an effort to avoid your boss, you’d run errands all day. Buried your nose in a sea of Civil Procedure notes as soon as you got a second alone, almost vomited seeing the Erie Doctrine, and went back to your hotel room to try and study there. Once you had, you napped instead.

Now your clothes stuck to your skin; the sheets around you were soaked. You peered over the big white duvet holding your body interred and saw smoke overhead.

Or steam.

Yes, definitely steam. It was drifting from the bathroom, where the door was thrown open. You shifted up to sit.

“Tess!” you yelled, “Shut the goddamn door, I’m boiling.”

As a law clerk, you weren’t afforded the luxury of a suite to yourself, so you shared it with the other new grads on work trips like these. Tess Servopoulos loved long, hot showers and never closed the fucking door. You groaned.

And, feeling depleted of all energy from your studies and the stress and the steam searing every inch of your skin, you flopped back in the bed. You kicked the covers off your legs. You’d just lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from your forehead, when an awful, fresh realization dawned.

You glanced at the clock—3:37.

“Fucking hell,” you hissed.

You were supposed to meet your dad at two to get some paperwork signed. You needed to have that filed with the court by four. He was probably engaged somewhere else by now, whether it be a client, a conference, or a couple white lines in the bathroom of a partners-only club downtown, and you wouldn’t have a hope of reaching him here. You rubbed your face and groaned again.

You’d set an alarm for 1:30—you knew you had.

Where the hell was your phone? Why was it so warm? What if he’d called? Aw fuck, he’s probably blown that thing up to hell and back by now. Maybe he was drunk. He had to be. Where was Tess? Where were your pants?

You’d made it up to your feet, clumsily, and faced a full-length mirror. Your bottoms were gone. You closed your eyes and screamed inside, remembering why they were.

“Glad you’re getting some use out of this.”

The second you heard it, your lids flew open. You turned.

And, standing in the warm yellow glow of the bathroom light—holding the culprit, your vibrator, like a prize—was Joel. Naked as the day he was born, save for one thin towel around his hips, and grinning. Moisture glistened on his chest and pooled about his feet, and his hair was smooth, tamed, and combed back neatly from his face.

He waved your silicone toy in the air, and immediately, you regretted giving him your room key the other day.

“I thought we agreed you’d wait for me—”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Your voice was thick with sleep. Joel’s own was slow, dulcet, and kind as it always was, even when teasing. When you grit your teeth, he just set the toy aside.

“I’m sorry. Bad timing. I saw your—”

“No.” You threw up both hands at once, suddenly out of breath and fucks to give, “You know what? I don’t care. You need to go. I have to be down at the courthouse—”

In twenty minutes. You cut yourself short and hurried off to find shoes. You could wear other pants. Ask another attorney to sign the forms if you couldn’t reach your dad. Forget that his boss and yours had just caught you with the vibrator he’d bought you last month and try not to feel too humiliated knowing he knew what you’d been doing. It didn’t matter—Joel didn’t matter. You slid on a mismatched pair of slacks and set off toward the door.

Then you had to stop. Joel beat you there, quick as ever.

“Listen. Hey.”

“Will you stop?!”

You pushed at his big and wet, stupidly broad chest. You felt the small grey hairs on his pecs tickle your palms, and for a second, you thought you heard a chuckle.

“You’re gonna make me late—”

“Hey, hey,” Joel said again. Of course it sounded fatherly, “I already signed the POA for Morales, hon, you’re good.”

You’re good.

“You what?” You stared at him in disbelief. How did he even know you needed Frankie’s power of attorney signed in the first place? You figured your dad would’ve mentioned it, but still, it wasn’t really Joel’s form to sign.

“The case is mine now,” he clarified, reading that look, “Wasn’t my first pick, but it is what it is. And your dad—”

Your dad was probably lagging wildly behind on his own caseload, so he’d pushed one off on his friend. Again.

“You can’t keep picking up his slack,” you gritted out, “One of these days it’s gonna bite you both in the ass. You know he shouldn’t be forcing these jobs on you.”

“I offered.”

“You caved.”

“He’s my best friend, what do you expect me to do?”

“Not let him use you! He’s making you feel bad for him.”

“And what if I did? What if I did pity the bastard?”

You scoffed. Then winced, inwardly.

I don’t need your pity, Mr. Miller.

From the look on Joel’s face, he seemed to be remembering the same. He shook his head.

“That’s not…” he trailed off. He rubbed his jaw with his hand and started to move from the door, deflating some.

His other arm extended to you, wordlessly, and already anticipated what was sure to follow. You swatted him off, then walked to the bed. You considered sitting but didn’t. Instead, you crossed your arms like you always did and turned away, facing the window with a cool, flat affect.

By now, Joel knew better than to take that for what it seemed. He crossed the room to you, treading softly.

His voice turned gentle again, like an apology: “Honey…”

But your gaze was already fixed outside. You frowned.

“Darlin’,” Joel continued, undeterred, “Come on.”

And you didn’t need to see his face to hear the rest: ‘Look at me, please,’ with eyes all comfort and warmth.

“Don’t you have a phone call with an R.O. or something?” Briefly, you recalled Acacius and a stream of other items from the checklist you’d covered that morning, and you had to stop yourself then from straying too far. You blinked once, just as Joel was approaching from behind.

“I cancelled,” he said.

You sighed, “Mr. Miller…”

You knew he hated doing that.

“Joel,” he pressed. Adding, “Something came up.”

You wouldn’t even ask. You shouldn’t care. You felt him standing there, fanning hot breaths across the nape of your neck, and you really couldn’t have taken that worse. You visibly tensed, hands balling into fists at your sides, and—hell, he wouldn’t quit moving now, would he?—Joel bent down. He hesitated, as if gauging your reaction in time, then descended further. He kissed your shoulder.

You cracked; it never took much from him.

For all your inane, ancillary plays at feigning indifference, one movement of Joel’s mouth and your resolve was lost. You clung to words, weakly, but all the rest fell away.

“We don’t…want your charity. Me or my dad. Alright?”

“I know.”

Joel kissed your skin again, then pulled at the strap of your blouse. It fell limply away, and his lips reattached.

Exactly when he’d walked you back to the bed, you couldn’t be sure. By the third or fourth kiss, your stomach was tight, knees weak, and your eyes drawing closed; it didn’t matter to you or to him what had passed before. Your bodies found the bed and blended together.

Tangling, in a way. Tearing blindly at clothes and not saying too much apart from Joel’s soft, sweet words:

“That’s it.”

“I know.”

“Good girl.”

Good girl when he kissed you. Good girl when he stripped you bare. Good girl when his hands roamed the broad, naked expanse of your body and let your own do the same to him. Good girl when your fingers hooked the outline of the towel and tugged it away, your vision filled with a sight you’d come to like more and more each day.

“That’s my girl,” Joel murmured. He cradled your head while you gripped his base, “‘S’yours, baby. All yours.”

Yours. Mine. You weren’t sure you had the sense or self-possession to even know what that meant, especially here. Joel wasn’t a boyfriend. He wasn’t a lover, at least not in the traditional sense. He wore dark wool suits like your father and worked from dawn until dusk every day, practicing law for longer than you’d been alive. Still, the smile above you was sweet. It coaxed you gently as you slid your hand up and down his length, like he sensed this was more like a lesson for you. Learning experience.

“Remember, spit a little first,” he instructed. Then, to demonstrate this point, he brought his fingers to his mouth and wet them quickly. He slipped his touch down to yours and met your gaze while he joined you there.

He rubbed and slicked himself up and he did it with ease. You followed his lead and watched his face contort—crow’s feet pinching even tighter at the sides of his eyes as pleasure began to pool in his gut. He looked pretty. You’d never thought to tell him this, but Joel really had an unparalleled face. It was an old and beautiful thing. For this reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to tear your gaze away, maybe to wet your own fingers. Instead, you slipped your hand between your legs, where his hips had come to rest. You worked a slow, light touch against your folds; you were drenched, and it didn’t take long for your fingers to be, too. You moved them back to Joel’s cock.

“Like this?” you ventured.

The man answered with a grunt, at first. Then a grin.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Joel nodded, quiet but emphatic. Trying not to smile too big as he let your touch take over for his, “Just like that, sweet pea. Get it nice an’ wet for daddy.”

You wanted to whimper at that. Something must’ve flashed in your eyes at the intonation of the last word, and the look must’ve suffused your whole expression, because the next thing you knew, Joel was lowering his body to yours. Petting your hair, letting you rub on his shaft as fast as your soft, lithe hands could manage.

“Feel that, baby? Feel how much daddy missed you?”

You did.

Your brow pinched, and you wanted more of that. More from him: those tender, edifying words of praise being mumbled your way while your touch worked him over. Maybe you could’ve helped it, but then again, in this state, maybe you couldn’t—you whimpered for him.

Wriggling your hips against the bed to get your warmth pressed flush with his own, and squeezing him tighter:

“In me, daddy. Please.”

You angled his cock in your trembling grip to plead as much. You knew he liked being the one to push in the first time, so you didn’t move too far with that push, but you begged him with your gaze. You felt him tense a bit.

And just when you sensed he might let you have your way, he moved off. Down. Sliding his torso away from your own, to go lower on the bed, and smirking again.

“I think she needs my tongue first, doesn’t she?”

You wanted to nod. Instead, you flinched. You crawled away from his hold before it could secure itself firmly on either one of your legs, and you had to snag your bottom lip between your teeth to contain that blossoming need. It almost spilled from your mouth in a moan before Joel’s could reach your lower half. Then you scrambled to sit up

“No,” you choked out.

This wasn’t new. While you shook your head, Joel lifted a brow and stood from the bed. He reached behind him.

The night stand.

You closed your eyes.

“This isn’t…supposed to be for me.” you sighed.

In a second, Joel was back where he started, and you didn’t have to steal a glance through your lids to know what he was holding. Slotting himself gently into place.

“Don’t,” he started, sharp, “—say that. I mean it.”

You knew he meant it, but you also knew better than to accept at face value what he said, moving down on you.

This wasn’t part of the deal. Joel’s money was meant to serve his pleasure, not yours. Letting him take you any other way seemed to blur the lines between transaction and affection, and though you’d done this before, it still didn’t feel right. You couldn’t bear having his focus here.

Evidently, though, he could. He’d snatched your vibrator from the night table and lowered his torso to your legs, lips twitching the tiniest bit. ‘Open up. Let me see her.’

Joel was on his stomach, eyes glowing with intrigue.

“Let me see how much she’s missed me, baby.”

The grey matter in your brain might’ve trickled through your ears—the whole thing went to mush at his words. You pushed at his hands, then the top of his head, but clearly, your will was weak. You wanted this. Needed it.

“That’s a good girl. Let daddy have it,” Joel drawled.

You wanted to cry. Or maybe hide. His index and middle fingers prodded at your folds, pulling them apart, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn you’d stopped breathing. Joel kissed the slope of your mound with a quiet kind of reverence. The salt-and-pepper stubble on his chin brushed your clit, and your back arched reflexively. Then, remembering why you’d come to this arrangement in the first place, you felt a wave of guilt supplant that pleasure.

You clawed at his head and shook your own, weakly.

“No. W-wanna make you feel good,” you choked out.

Not me.

Not here.

Just let it—

“Fuck,” you keened through your teeth. Joel’s lips made contact with your slick, drooling cunt and, in a second, sucked your nub in between them. He flicked his tongue.

Joel groaned, then pulled away to meet your gaze.

“Feels plenty good f’me,” he assured you in a murmur. Eyes glossy, “She’s so fuckin’ sweet, honey. So pretty.”

Then, as if to punctuate his point, he slid his tongue down the whole wet mess of your slit, and he moaned. He curled the muscle and invaded your sticky, sensitive, precious warm flesh with vigor and force—maybe a little desperation—and you whined at the feeling. Your toes curled tight. It was doubtlessly a sight to see: Joel’s old and weathered head against your young and supple skin, the wiry greys of his chin rubbing your cunt like no man’s his age should’ve been. He took you gently. Forked his fingers over your folds to hold you open for him and then, over and over and over again, just licking stripes. Squelching noises only seemed to goad him on while he buried his nose and savored your taste without reserve. Your stomach clenched with that pleasure, then swelled.

“That’s my girl—so good for me,” Joel said, as though reminding you, gently, it was okay to relish the feeling.

Once more, he suckled your clit in his mouth, rubbing the tip of his tongue in a quick back-and-forth motion, and the next sensation hit without a breath of warning.

Your belly twisted again, then flushed with hot pleasure.

“My— fuck,” you cried, shuddering with a climax you didn’t know was coming. You held his head and whined.

Joel’s tongue didn’t stop. Your vision blurred. Whatever reprieve you might’ve hoped to find came in the form of his lips drawing back, momentarily, only to sponge little kisses on your still-pulsing heat. Your body jolted back.

“I c— I’m done. I’m done,” you blurted out.

Joel nodded against you. Humming through his kisses:

“I know. Keep going.”

Keep going.

So simple.

Still, you couldn’t breathe. Your sight was inundated with stars. You felt Joel’s stubble on your slit again, only this time, the pleasure was tripled. Your legs trembled, and your hands made fists in his hair. Joel kept on kissing.

And kissed again, again, and again, until your fingers in his locks pulled taut to the roots and your hips were bucking up in his face: ‘Too much, t—oh fuckfuckfuck.’

Then came a buzz. Skirting your legs in a blink, before diving to meet Joel’s mouth on your clit. You shrieked.

“I know, I know,” Joel joined, as though soothing a wound while he maneuvered the vibrator. Lifting his head and then kissing your thigh, “I know. You’re alright.”

You wanted to sob; you felt ready to burst. You trusted Joel’s judgment but had never been subjected to this sort of pleasure. What if it was more than you could take?

“I’m here.”

Joel’s words were slow to crawl off his tongue, but their intent was clear. You writhed once more, and he was kissing your skin, rubbing your thighs, and taking the toy to your clit with a warm, devoted touch. He wasn’t cruel.

He had a glint in his gaze when you met it, like he knew you wouldn’t accept this feeling alone—but he wanted you to. He wanted the indulgence to be your own and an end in itself. There was care in his touch, tender praise with every caress, and you guessed this was intentional. Joel needed you to know this was more than only his.

You felt more naked than you’d ever been: soaking the sheets with your last release, fresh arousal trickling out, Joel’s spit mixing with your nectar and sweat and pressing you down in the bed. And nudging you, gently.

“‘S’okay, baby. You’re alright. That feels nice, doesn’t i—”

“Kiss me.”

It came out faster than you could even try and stop it. You weren’t sure why you said it. The words were acerbic on your tongue—you hated ever sounding needy—but then your mind and your mouth and your worries were all silenced at once when Joel came clambering up for you.

His lips were wet and grinning as he kissed you. He held the vibrator hostage between your legs while his body pressed tight against yours. His movements slowed.

Then, as if he’d crawled in your head and read your mind:

“It’s okay to need me, baby. It’s okay to want this.”

His hips made that assurance even clearer. Joel reached down and took the vibrator again, increasing the friction between your groin and his while he pressed the buzzing toy to your clit. You whined into his mouth at the feeling.

Your eyes rolled back, and the pleasure soared. This morning, you might’ve bristled at the words he’d just spoken, but here, in this bed, it felt okay. It felt safe.

Joel felt safe, for once, and you weren’t sure how to keep that idea from sticking—how to reconcile the notion of swapping sex for cash with a man for months on end, and then this. Your stomach churned. He held your face and kissed you more, and your clit throbbed and ached. Before you could ponder your thoughts a second longer, a white-hot pleasure washed over, and you came again.

“Good girl,” Joel cooed.

Throbbing even more this time.

“That’s a sweet girl. That’s my baby.”

All but aching with desire. Feeling it double.

“Cum for daddy, that’s it. Keep going.”

Feeling it trickle down your legs.

“She’s feelin’ real good, huh?”

You could barely breathe.

You whined. Felt something splinter between your thighs and then more of it, more of you and that slick, oozing pleasure and Joel’s groans, overjoyed—‘Making a fucking mess’a daddy, isn’t she? She feel that good?’—and by ‘that good’ you guessed it was more than normal.

This was more warmth than usual. Somewhere in the midst of your own mind-numbing pleasure, you’d let out a spurt, sticky and wet. It now coated the hairs on Joel’s tummy, and while his skin shone, his eyes were brighter. He flitted a look to you, gaze flaring, and slid down. Low.

Back to where he was before. Moving the buzzing pink bullet aside and letting his mouth assume its place.

Of course, you yelped.

“Joel!”

You winced, both from saying his name and feeling so raw. Joel grinned at the sound and suckled your clit.

It was drenched. You and Joel, too, were doused all over and practically gleaming under the rays of late afternoon sun then pouring through the window. For a second, you cast a look outside like you had before, but it was only to brace your body for the bliss at hand. You stared and felt a crude, carnal shockwave seize you head to toe. It traveled fast and made you release, again, or else just continue the same flow as before—and this time, into Joel’s waiting mouth. He lapped at you feverishly now.

He squeezed your legs and licked you dry. He worked in merciless circles, like his life might have depended on making you stay at this peak. All the while, you were tearing at his hair. Riding his face as your body fell apart.

That was alright. This pleasure was yours for now, but there was still time yet to make it worth his while, you reasoned in a half-intoxicated state. Your legs vibrated as you started to crawl—limp—back up in the bed and, numb with elation and a desperate need to please, you stretched your arm toward the night stand. You huffed.

You reached blindly but got it. The box. Weak fingers found the first plastic strip and tore yourself a square. Then, lifting it to Joel, you ignored the last stabs of pleasure between your legs. This was fun, but still his.

“Go on,” you told him, breathless, “Fuck me.”

Joel quirked a brow. He took the condom, still panting himself. He brought the latex to his tip out of habit, then:

“Yeah? Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

Your head was swimming. Somewhere entrenched in the furthest recesses of your brain you could feel it, that dizzying, self-centered pleasure. You pushed it back.

You suffocated it, and you spread your legs wide for him. You let him lay you down and tug the rubber over his cock, then nudge at your hips to situate himself in just the right way. How he liked it. He seemed to be content, and your heart swelled. In this airy, buoyant state, you felt more at ease to speak, sure that he’d understand.

“This should cover some of it, right?” you panted out.

Joel slowed.

“What?”

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, eager to keep going. But you steeled yourself, just barely, then.

“Sex. Now,” you said, “It’ll cover some of my car repairs.”

Instead of nodding like you’d expected, Joel only blinked. Then you opened your mouth to speak again, and his body stopped you cold. He planted a hand beside your head on the pillow and raised his hips; you felt his heat leave with it. You reached for his backside immediately, to try and pull him back into that pre-missionary position he’d held, when Joel brushed you off. His face was hard.

“Money?” he quipped.

“Yeah,” you started, then remembered how you talked outside of the bedroom, when he seemed more serious, “We’ll go again. All week. You can even put it in my—”

Joel balked, like you’d just slapped him across the face.

“No,” he said, sharp.

“No,” he repeated, more to himself this second time. Almost as though he couldn’t believe what you were suggesting—and making him guilty by association.

Joel clenched your pillow like a vice and shook his head.

“You’re not getting paid for this,” he finished, and when your gaze penetrated his, confused, he squeezed harder.

“Thought you wanted it.” Joel added, almost shamefully.

“I do! I do…I just—” you sputtered.

“What? Think you need to offer up a week and a half of fucking to make it worth my time? Is that what this is?”

Well, in a way, maybe.

You weren’t sure what to say. Former dizzying bliss was dwindling fast, and now you were facing him cold. Sober.

Increasingly irritated, again.

“I just need money, Mr. Miller—”

“It’s Joel, hon,” he bit back, for the fourth time that day. His eyes flared with something more, maybe annoyance, but then he was tempering it just as fast. He ran a hand through his damp grey hair and shook his head, pausing, “It’s Joel. I know you need the money, baby, but it’s—”

“It’s what we agreed,” you protested, “What I need—”

“Well it’s not what I want!” Joel barked.

Anger surged again, and this time, evidently, the feeling was harder to keep at bay. He was scarcely able to rein in his features, settling on a grave little scowl instead of a frown, and he sucked in shorter, shallower breaths through his nose. You felt him let your pillow go.

“Forget it—the cash.” Joel grit his teeth even tighter, “Forget these payments and the goddamn allowance I’ve had you on. I can’t do that anymore. It’s not right.”

Your heart sank.

You didn’t know what to say.

Luckily, Joel’s voice resumed on its own.

“Whatever you want, whatever you need, sweetheart…”

He stopped. Silence followed, then stretched on for one full, terrible minute. In that interim, you could see his chest rise and fall fast. He was trying to slow it down.

“Whatever you need paid off, I’ll do it. Anything. You don’t have to touch me again. It was wrong of me to allow that in the first place,” he rejoined, tone cooling.

Sounding guilty, too.

Above you, Joel didn’t seem keen on holding your gaze, so he fixed his stare someplace on the headboard instead. Then he moved off your body, slowly.

In spite of the distance he attempted to give, he was still crowding your space. Looming large and bare and weary as you’d ever seen him, knees shuffling back awkwardly through a mass of cotton sheets while his eyes shifted low. Away. The rest of him filled your lungs with a heady cologne scent and your stomach with a thousand tiny blades—you were hurt that he wasn’t sticking to his end of the bargain. You were mad that he was trying to claim the moral high ground now, after everything you’d done.

Mostly, though, you were just upset that you felt like you were losing someone close. That Joel Miller was more of a confidant, friend, and father figure than your own dad had ever been, and that got all fucked up over money. Your lips pursed, and something stung behind your eyes when you reached for him again. Your throat stung, too.

“The reason I agreed to do this,” Joel went on, and the ache in your head worsened when he winced from your touch, “was ‘cause I didn’t want you getting ‘help’ from anyone else. I was selfish. And that’s not an excuse…”

He started to move off, hand dropping from yours.

“…but it’s the truth. I’m sorry.”

At length, Joel found your gaze, and the eyes said it all over again: I’m sorry. You might’ve believed them, too.

But you were you, and you couldn’t help but press:

“Why?”

Your voice was small. Joel was trying to stand from the bed, but you grabbed at his hand again and made him meet your eyes. Confusion was painted across his own.

Kneeling in front of him, curious, you tried to clarify.

“Why’d it have to be you?”

Judging from Joel’s expression as soon as you did, you got the sense that this question made him feel dumb. He frowned, but he held your stare and answered anyway.

“Because I wanted you first,” he replied, “Before all this.”

Your stomach twisted. He did?

You didn’t need to ask twice to know what that meant. What he’d said, in words and with a look, was enough. Still, it was always in you to know more, to be sure, so you crept a little closer. You let your hands roam up and—

“No,” Joel said, as soon as your fingers reached his side.

You’d just wanted to feel him, maybe prod him further on what he’d just said through acts that didn’t require verbal articulation, but he refused. He backed up in bed.

“This isn’t about—” he started, low.

“Sex. I know,” you answered for him. Then your touch grazed his thigh, and you were dying to have more. To be told in a way you both knew and understood. To touch, “You want me to believe you really…liked me before?”

“More than you know.”

There was that blunt, open pragmatism in the Joel you’d always known. Perhaps guided by natural inclinations, or else your hand on his leg, drawing higher. Moving closer.

Showing skepticism through your eyes and the hint of a playful, disbelieving smile starting to curl at your lips.

“When you met me?” you teased.

You’d known of Joel for years, and had met him a couple times as a teenager at various firm holiday functions. You probably hadn’t exchanged more than ten words altogether before starting law school a few years back.

“Hell no,” Joel answered, fast, “When you started work.”

His gaze was timid again. It was fixed on his thigh where you’d started to slide your index up the warm, muscled expanse of his skin, and though you could tell he was more than hesitant, you wanted to know. Wanted to feel.

It wasn’t so easy convincing a man you’d been working for—and fucking, largely without feeling—to pay bills that you wanted him here and now. But you needed to try.

That maybe, somewhere along the way, you’d come to want him, too. That cash wasn’t the only thing at stake.

You crawled between his legs, then straddled his hips.

Your lips smiling still as you did: “How much?”

Joel blinked back. Dazed.

“What do you m—”

“How much did you like me? When did it start?”

Joel sighed when your heat rubbed his. He tried grabbing ahold of your hips, when you glanced down and saw he’d already discarded the last condom. You couldn’t have that if you wanted to continue this talk.

You reached back and grabbed another.

“Darlin’,” Joel said, strained, “We shouldn’t…”

“Says who?”

You’d already worked the rubber halfway down his length when his heavy-lidded gaze locked with yours. You saw lust there, mixed with worry. Curiosity. You kept going.

“Says your dad, if he ever finds out what I’ve done to his little girl,” Joel replied, closing his eyes at the feeling.

You had the latex worked down to the base of him when you smiled. Felt him seize your hips, lids fluttering open to find you in their soft, glossy stare, and you felt better. Like clockwork, you went together and joined, at last. You felt Joel squeeze your backside and groan when you first sank down to take him whole. You shuddered, too.

But you tried to steady your voice as you spoke.

“Semantics, Miller,” you told him, only faltering a little, “Things you are ‘doing’ to his little girl. Not just ‘done.’”

There, you had a point. Surely your father would have had some choice words for his business partner and best friend if he knew how far Joel’s cock was currently stuffed inside your tight, wet cunt. It might even piss him off, if he weren’t too drunk to receive the news himself.

Joel blinked hard, signaling that he knew this too, and presently watched your body swallow all eight inches at once, after you’d raised yourself up to just the tip and sank back. Your ass fell to his groin with an obscene sort of squelch, and your walls involuntarily clenched. You both let out sounds of pleasure, and held on tighter.

Your hands on his chest for stability, while one of his own held your hip and the other fumbled around for your clit, gliding through the sheen of your arousal on his front. You rocked your hips and felt how much it really was—how you’d drenched his whole abdomen with your last release. You smiled at this and stared, pleased with the pretty, sticky display you’d laid bare all over Joel’s belly.

When Joel wasn’t watching you ride, he stared there too.

“Not so ‘little’ anymore,” he mused quietly. Then he looked up to find your eyes, seeing them as glazed as his, “And I ‘like’ you, hon. Present tense. Not just…‘liked.’”

Alright.

“How much?”

You wanted to say it with some confidence. Nonchalance. Then Joel’s cock nicked a particularly sensitive ridge inside your walls, and that thought was gone as quick as it had come. You gripped the flesh of his upper chest and rolled your hips harder. Let out your breaths in little fractured whimpers while you rode him more. Another sweet feeling twisted low in your gut.

With just a glimpse of that, Joel moved his hand from your heat up past your hips and waist, to squeeze one of your breasts. His fingers were wet. You could feel them, equal parts warmth and wanton yearning as the pads pinched your nipple and gave it a firm tug. He grunted.

Clearly, there was more to it than just the touching and feeling for him—Joel’s eyes drank in the sight of your skin as it glistened with the arousal he’d just smeared. He thumbed at the wet, stiff peak and swallowed. And, just as you were about to adjust the rhythm of your hips bouncing on him, his free hand joined the first and pulled you down. You cried feeling his cock wedge deep; your hands fell to either side of his body when he yanked your face down to his. He fucked up into you from underneath

You squealed, soft, “Joel!”

He kissed your open mouth. Made you lay flat overtop him while he fucked your dripping hole. You whimpered.

“Joel—” Again.

“I like you so much, sweetheart,” he said, in answer to your last question, lips close, “Does she like me too?”

As if to save him the trouble of a swift reply in words, your body told him instead. You squeezed around his cock, and with another desperate cry, bit his shoulder. He hammered your poor, aching pussy with a groan of his own, and he held your body down to his. Grinning.

Kissing the side of your head while he pounded away. Stroking your hair, “Is that a ‘yes’? She like her daddy?”

Drool was bound to slip out of your mouth any second. Your lips were locked in a permanent ‘o’ while he drilled from under you on the bed. Still, you managed to nod.

“Uh-huh—oh, fuck, fuck, da-ddy. Yes, daddy.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as another blistering wave seared your insides. Joel was relentless with his thrusts now, driving himself in and out without stopping or slowing. He must’ve known you were close. He was too, judging by the sounds of his grunts and hushed tone.

“Let daddy take care of her then, baby. All of her. OK?”

His words trickled through your ear as sweet as honey. His cock was less kind, but that was okay—you liked it.

You loved him here. Taking care of you. Her. Everything.

And, in this half-coherent state of fuckdrunk pleasure, you were tempted to give in to whatever he begged.

It would be so easy. Joel cradled your face in his hand, practically beaming with pride while he fucked you over and over, and your legs were spread, walls were stretched, eyes practically rolling back, and you felt more secure than you’d been in ages. Joel could care for you.

He rubbed his thumb over your cheek and hummed.

“Daddy’s got you,” he said, voice all warm assurance.

Nudging you closer and closer to your peak—and perhaps some other form of surrender. Release.

Submission?

Joel wouldn’t be so bad for that.

He could fuck you well and leave you content. Make you forget what it meant to be strapped for cash and saddled with guilt and worry over bills every month. Joel could provide, for now. His eyes said as much; his fingers threaded through your hair and rubbed your scalp. He cupped your face, all fifty-six years in his own looking as handsome as they’d ever been. He felt good. He felt safe.

You were hot. Your legs trembled and ached.

“Is that something you’d want?” he pressed.

And, still holding Joel’s gaze with a heavy-lidded, fucked out look of your own, you surprised yourself by nodding, slowly. Your body was spent, but the curve on your lips, then his, was sincere; Joel nodded back as he grinned.

“Yeah? You mean it, sweetheart?”

He flipped you both over and got on top, never breaking apart. You wound your legs around his back and let him cup your cheeks again, and from this angle, you felt it. You wouldn’t try and fight it now; you just kissed him.

Then you came for a third time, walls clenching and squeezing and gushing again, smearing Joel’s front as he fucked you right through it. His groans were a little more subdued than yours, but in their timbre, you could hear his desperation. He emptied himself inside you, in the condom, and kept holding your face all the while.

You felt a low pulse between your legs. Then another. And another. And another. Joel’s hips began to still, his hefty greying belly bumping lightly against your skin while he drained what was left in his balls, and you swore that his bones might’ve creaked from the sheer force of those final thrusts. He seemed exhausted. Somehow, though, the man looked even better in this state—haggard and worn as he was, the face above your own was soft. Smiling, faintly, and kissing you constantly.

You couldn’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it; you were far too tired and fucked out of your mind to protest right now.

Joel trailed a path with his lips from your chin to your ear. He kissed the hinge of your jaw and sank himself deeper.

“Mr.—” But you caught yourself, shortly, “…Joel.”

He lifted his head, not apologetic in the least.

“Maybe just one more—” he started.

“No,” you finished for him, sharp.

Still smiling, but with your eyes on him in a thinly veiled threat. Joel accepted that and kept his dick where it was.

What followed was gradual but natural enough. A little awkward as you broached that uncharted territory of remaining in the other’s presence after the deed was done, but Joel didn’t seem like he wanted to leave the bed, and you had nowhere else to go until dinner with your dad at eight. There was a moment you wanted to separate your body from Joel’s, if only to slip off to the bathroom by yourself, but the man just held you closer.

“You think your old man will mind if I joined tonight?”

Here the fuck we go.

“He’ll kill you.”

You pushed hard against his hold without getting so much as an inch of give. Joel had to fight back a chuckle.

“Oh, yeah? Why?”

“Because,” you began in a huff. Wriggling with very little success in his arms, while you were pinned in missionary, “I smell like you. You smell like me. My dad’s a drunk, but he can sniff stuff like that out in a heartbeat. Too risky.”

You punctuated those words with a still more serious look, but before you could nudge at his chest again or say something more, you were forced to swallow a scream. Joel’s grip tightened even more, and he moved to stand up from the bed—with you still in his arms and impaled on his cock. He started to walk to the bathroom.

“Great. Shower’s got plenty of room for the two of us.”

“Joel!”

“Glad I don’t have to keep reminding you of my name.”

His voice was smug. Your gaze was hard. Joel was still hard himself, amazingly, and you almost groaned when you felt the head of his cock bump somewhere soft and sensitive inside. He toted you into the big, bright room.

“If not tonight, how ‘bout tomorrow? Just you and me.”

He would never stop this shit. He reached for the faucet.

“Still too dangerous. You know that,” you chided. Your resolve only wavered a little when you felt the hot water start to pelt at your back. Joel closed the glass door, “Besides…I need to focus on figuring my shit out right now. Work and bills and getting myself a rental car soon.”

Joel paused. He turned, still holding you.

Then, just as swiftly as he’d stepped inside, he carried you right back out of the shower. You whined in protest.

He took you over to the bed and set you down. He left to find his wallet and keys. You might’ve been tempted to voice your displeasure in some other way—namely, by marching back to the bathroom, locking the door, and bathing alone—but before you could speak a word, Joel was back. He looked down at you and held out his fist.

“What’s—”

“Your dad and me’ll be up to our eyeballs in bullshit working the Garcia audit tomorrow—and I know you don’t want him seeing us leave together anywhere—so we can meet at Bohanan’s at six. How does that sound?”

You blinked.

“I don’t…have a car.”

Joel opened his hand. Keys dropped out.

In a single glance, you could see they weren’t his.

Joel drove a garish Super Duty F-450, not an Audi. The cogs were quick to turn in your head, but clearly not fast enough, because Joel was closing your fingers over the keys before you could breathe so much as a syllable to him. When you did, it came out more like a stutter. Palpably mad but far too rattled to get much out:

“Joel, I-I can’t—”

“I’ve been meaning to buy one anyw—”

“You’re insane,” you started to push the keys back, and for some reason, your heart was thudding extra hard as you did. You went on, unblinking, “You don’t…need to.”

“I want to.”

Joel’s hands were warm when he pressed both of his palms to secure yours between them. He could probably feel the way it shook a little, but he didn’t seem to care. His gaze was too busy trying to find, and hold, your own while you swallowed and stared and racked your numb brain for any words of defiance. At length, nothing came.

All you could do was meet that look. In the soft brown irises above, you could see it all—the need to comfort, and care, and provide where he could, offer better than the hand you’d been dealt and maybe, interspersed with those feelings somewhere, a simpler need in him to give.

For once, you wanted to believe it.

Fun fact: This fic was inspired by true events‼️💯 My life 😫🤪😤😈 Like reader, my truck is also busted as SHIT and needs $2,700 in repairs!!!! Unlike reader, I will not be sucking and fucking Joel Miller to recoup my losses (not asking for donations, just wanted to give y’all a giggle at my misfortune LOL)

#ENOUGH BULLSHITTING WE NEED MORE GLUCOSE GUARDIAN JOEL ON THE TL NEOWWWWW #🫵🏼😐#i’m begging y’all to write more for this very particular and off-putting dynamic bc i love it dearly #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic

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gaypirate420 · 7 months ago

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Viktor running his fingers through m! Readers hair and Jayce is getting jealous of us so Viktor starts giving him a scalp massage too.

This was inspired by that viral post of Viktor High Key being a Dom.

Here nyehehehhe, very short I'm sorry.

Puppies// Jayvik

S1!Jayvik x male!reader.

Summary: Viktor has two puppies in a lab.

Suggestive. Fluff.

Viktor takes a small sip from his drink, the sugary taste of the sweet milk traveling down his mouth, his amber eyes looked down, you and Jayce where on the floor, a chalk in hand as each of you drew his notes on the literal floor of the lab, per his request, something about scaling.

"Is this big enough for you?" You asked a little breathlessly as you leaned back on your knees, going backwards trying not to mess the chalk drawing, a small pout adorning your face as you placed chalk, ruler and measuring tape to a side, you were the first one to protest against this idea.

"it gives me a better view, sweetling." The pale man answered back before returning his lips to his mug, Jayce sighed and shook his head, the sound of chalk and his tired breaths filling the air for a moment.

"Bigger papers exist, V." The tall one mumbled as he kept drawing, his knees already feeling a little sore after being in the cold floor of the lab.

"No need to whine, love, a little mopping will get rid of it." Viktor answered back before taking another sip, you rubbed your eyes, a soft yawn escapes your lips as you rest your head on his lap, avoiding his brace for an inch. His brows were furrowed deep in thought as he saw his blueprint on the floor.

"We have to take a break, we're going insane! We're drawing on the floor! We're scientists not cavemen." You mumbled against his thigh, the sound a little muffled. Viktor shushed you gently and returned to his own little mental palace, one of his hands left his mug, his pale and slender fingers finding your hair. He could feel your tired exhale against his leg.

His touch is gentle, slow, his eyes focused on your tense shoulders, he carefully digs deeper, massaging slowly. Almost as an apology for the burden of making you drag yourself around on the floor drawing.

Jayce finally finished his part, looking down at the whole layout and starting to take mental notes, he steps back to allow the zaunite to see the drawing completely. He claps his hands, getting rid of any chalk dust in them.

The taller man's hazel eyes catch the tender scene, you, on your knees by Viktor's side, your hair getting played with, he feels a warmth creeping on his cheeks, he looks away quickly and tries to focus on the drawing but something else start to brew. Jealousy.

"Hm." Jayce sat down on the floor too, perhaps a little inspired by you on Viktor's left side, he swallowed as his eyes focused on the drawing almost too much and too intensely. Viktor placed his mug between his thighs, he smirks ever so faintly and his hand goes to brush the taller one's hair back, the reaction is immediate, a soft sigh hangs on the air, he leans against his thigh too as Viktor brushes down his neck.

"I can picture your tails wagging perfectly." Viktor said with a teasing tone, you chuckled against him while Jayce whimpers and hides his face on his thigh. Both of you are blushing though, neither pulling away from his touch.

A/N: HEYYYY, hi, how are y'all...I know I KNOW I have some promised fics on the waiting but I'm picky and I want to enjoy my winter break I'm sorry, arrest me. Hope y'all liked this!

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 month ago

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hiii, how are u? for the 7k bingo could you do Joel Miller with sex pollen? hope u have a nice day :)

.⋆｡Blooming｡⋆.

7k Follower Bingo

Joel Miller x plus size reader

During patrol, you come across a weird-looking plant and can’t help but to check it out, though you’re not the one that gets in trouble when you touch it

Warnings: sex pollen, SMUT, older man and younger woman (age not specified), unprotected sex, pull-out method, guns, feral!Joel, reader is a tiny bit bratty, mention of spores, dub-can because of sex pollen, some amount of mutual pining/yearning WC: 2k Minors DNI Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Rules— you stay close, you stay silent and you-“

“-Run as fast as I can if things go south. Yeah I know Joel. It’s not as if I’ve dealt with this bullshit for almost my whole life.” You rolled your eyes as the older man in front of you shot you a glare that would’ve had anyone else cowering in fear but you just huffed in return. The derelict home that loomed in front of you had been marked by Jackson’s scouts earlier in the week for potential farming equipment given the impressive if not run-down greenhouse at its side.

“Don’t be a smartass.” He grumbled and shouldered his rifle but you caught the twitch of his full lips as he turned away from you and into the doorway of the (hopefully) empty building you were planning on ransacking. His broad shoulders lifted as he shot you one last glance before stepping inside, trusting that you would follow close behind.

“When am I ever not a smartass according to you?” You whined quietly from behind him as the stale air of the building closed in around you. It was obvious that nothing living had passed through here in years, infected or otherwise. A thick layer of dust coated every surface that you passed, muffling the sounds of your footsteps down to dull thumps.

Joel lifted his left hand from the barrel of his gun, signalling you to go left as he turned to the room on the right. You grunted under your breath at his overabundance of anxiety but obeyed anyway, it would do you no good to argue with the man now. The soft yellow of your flashlight beam cut through the small sideroom, illuminating a workbench and a collection of tools that would be perfect for the farms.

You holstered your pistol so you could pull the battered backpack off your shoulders, dropping it onto the bench next to a terracotta pot that held a quite impressive flower that looked to be on the edge of blooming. You ignored it for now, instead focusing on shoving seed packets and tools into your bag. Underneath a rusty trowel, a water-logged notebook sat, opened up to pages of now illegible notes.

The pages crunched with decades of exposure to the elements but it still captured your attention. Blurry images of flowers and plants had you turning page after page, slowly revealing the story of the person that poured so much work into the notebook. It seemed like they were trying to breed some new type of flower, and had eventually succeeded given the still living specimen beside you. The last two pages were stuck together with age, threatening to rip as you attempted to seperate them. You gave up after a couple tries, instead closing the book with care and dropping it into the bag with everything else, you hadn’t noticed the petals beginning to fold out from the large bulb of the plant.

“Clear!” Joel’s voice rang through the house causing you to jolt and drop the backpack.

“Jesus man!” You spun just in time for him to stride through the doorway, a scowl on his face that only seemed to add to his attractiveness. It was his usual look with you; disappointed and annoyed but also somehow a little amused and it never failed to get your heart racing with the way his brows would draw together, his jaw tightening, and his dark eyes practically glowing with frustration.

“How many times do I have to remind you to say something when you’ve finished checking your bit of a house?” Thick arms barely contained by rolled up sleeves of his flannel crossed over his chest.

“‘Bout twenty more times should do it.” You countered with your own withering look. His frown deepened and his muscles bulged. You swallowed back your drool. “Found some seeds for individual gardens so the community ones aren’t overloaded.” You offered up, reaching back to produce one of the packs you hadn’t picked up yet, but instead your knuckles bumped into the pot, causing it to rock back precariously.

Joel’s arms dropped back down to his sides as the pot righted with a clink. You breathed a sigh of relief but it was short-lived. The heart of the flower opened up, delicate red and black petals stretched outwards revealing a dense ball of pollen that looked like it was going to fall apart with the slightest touch. As if he knew exactly what you were thinking, Joel darted forwards and grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t touch it.” His tone wobbled as he spoke, sending a spark of panic through your lizard brain that you chose to push down.

“I wasn’t gonna. Besides, it’s just a flower, not spores. I doubt a fungus has worked out how to evolve into a flower contained completely inside a pot.” You didn’t sound convincing as the words left your lips but you tried to keep a neutral expression. “The owner of the house was breeding it, probably before the end of the world if his little notebook is anything to go by. It won’t kill us.”

His grip tightened. “You don’t know what it’s going to do. Stop being so innocent.”

You couldn’t help it, the thought popped into your brain and sprinted out of your mouth before you could even think to stop it: “I bet you’d love that wouldn’t you Miller.”

You watched as his breath hitched, suddenly at a loss for how to deal with you before his hand loosened and fell to the workbench. The tips of his fingers caught the top edge of the pot, finally toppling it over. The flower’s thin stalk bent with the weight of its head, aiming directly for him. The pollen burst onto the bare skin of his forearm, staining his tanned skin a radioactive yellow before the whole thing clattered to the ground.

There was a beat of silence, then two, then your brain finally kicked into gear.

“Fuck fuck fuck. Joel I’m so sorry I didn’t- fuck!” You scrambled for something, anything, in your bag that could rectify this as fear sprinted through your system. The water bottle in your bag was half-empty, something you were saving for the long walk home, but you splashed it over his arm without a second thought. He tugged his shirt sleeve back down in an attempt to scrub it off his skin.

“Leave!” He turned away from you, his shoulder trembling as he redoubled his effort. Guilt struck you square in the chest.

“I’m not leaving. This is my fault, I need to help you. Don’t- don’t make me go.” You knew better than to try and reach out and touch him, even if your spirit screamed at you to try and comfort the possibly dying man. His breathing began to pick up before he swallowed.

“Then check the book.” His chest rumbled, refusing to look back at you. The pollen wouldn’t budge, even when he stripped the shirt off completely to use as a rag. You forced your gaze away from him and back to your bag.

“Right yeah. I’ll um do that.” The notebook shook as you frantically flipped through the pages, desperately scanning the ancient scrawl for anything that could soothe the blinding fear that had wrapped tightly around you. The final brittle pages ripped as you tore them apart, but the writing remained clear. “What the fuck.”

Sweat was now beading along Joel’s hairline, his muscles screwed up like his body was preparing itself for something. “Tell me.” His voice was empty, his mind already going to the pistol tucked into your waistband.

“It-“ For probably the first time in your life, words escaped you.

Joel whipped around. His pupils were blown so wide that you couldn’t find a trace of the deep brown of his irises, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. “Tell me!”

Heat shot through you at the revelation of what exactly was wrong with him, something you could beg on your knees to fix. The notebook dropped back onto the workbench as you reached for the buttons on your shirt. Joel’s eyes follow your movements with deadly precision, his body winding even tighter as your body was revealed.

“It’s an aphrodisiac. Supposed to make you go crazy for sex.” He stepped closer, crowding you against the bench. You could feel the hardness of his cock against your soft stomach, it was huge.

“What. Else.” The air between you had suddenly shifted, no longer was there the simmering undercurrent of tension that may or may not have led anywhere, but there was now a fire growing in ferocity, threatening to consume you entirely if you turned away now.

You popped open the button of your jeans. “It’ll be in your system for hours, maybe days, if you don’t-“

“If I don't, what.” The heat of his body was almost unbearable.

Your eyes dropped down to his lips. “If you don’t fuck it out.” A large hand wrapped around the back of your neck, yanking you into a kiss. Your teeth clacked together painfully while Joel pressed you further into the table. You tugged at his white undershirt, whining into his mouth.

He ripped himself away from you, looking as crazed as you felt. “Turn around.” He left no room for resistance or questions, already turning your body to the bench. He pulled your jeans and panties over your ass, just far enough for access.

“Joel-“ You knew he wouldn’t stop, not when you could feel the fever running through him as he pressed himself to the soft fat of your ass and thighs. He fumbled for his belt, hands trembling against you.

“Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want this.” He kissed your shoulders, your neck, anywhere he could reach. You wiggled back into him, blissfully feeling his bare cock finally released from the confines of his jeans and boxers. Wet pre-cum smeared against the tops of your thighs.

“Just be careful, don’t want your heart to give out old man.” The growl that escaped him was entirely inhuman and before you could make another sound, he slammed into you. Your cunt burned with his size, by far bigger than anything you had ever taken before and given the smirk you felt against your shoulder blade, Joel knew it too.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned, his forehead falling to your back as he struggled to control himself. He rolled his hips against your ass, immediately sending a flare of pleasure through you. He took a deep breath and pulled back, letting his cock almost completely leave the warmth of your pussy before he finally succumbed to the pollen.

“This is your fucking fault. Not doing what I tell you.” Your hands scrambled for something to ground yourself as he punched into you.

“‘M sorry!” You cried.

“Fucking driving me crazy with those fucking tight pants and constantly gettin on my nerves.” You tightened around him, pleasure licking at your nerves like nothing you had ever felt before. “You like that? You like knowing you piss me off? Damn fucking brat, I should’ve known.”

You felt him in your throat, stealing any attempt at speaking or even catching your breath. “Shoulda known you just needed to be fucked by a man to get you to listen.” The table bit into your stomach but the pain only sent you higher along with the growling of his voice. Joel thrust downwards, the fat head of his cock hitting your g-spot with each thrust.

“You gonna cum? I can feel it. Do it. Fucking cum.” He snarled into your ear as you shattered beneath him, losing yourself to everything Joel. “Fuck!” He groaned, ripping himself from you only second before he came onto the battered flesh of your ass.

Your body went limp as his cum began to cool on your skin. “Holy shit Joel. I did not think you had it in you.” You went to turn back around but Joel’s hand returned to your shoulder blade, keeping you still. “What?”

His cock prodded at your wrecked pussy once more. “We’re nowhere near done.”

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Pedro Pascal

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heegyukeluv · 10 months ago

Text

your eyes only (lhs) - req

pairing: heeseung x afab & musical actress!reader

synopsis: You were used to having all eyes on you; after all, as a renowned musical actress, capturing everyone's attention was part of your job. But the moment you noticed a pair of eyes in the audience gazing at you with such passion, you knew things would change.

my's note: first and foremost A✨!!!!! YOUR VISION!!!!!! please i’m so happy you gifted me with the pleasure of developing this super cute and loving story. i really had so much fun writing it, and i hope you like it too!! also during the smut scene i got a bit carried away by these pics and maybe i’ve dedicated too much time talking about heeseung’s arms 😀 not sorry btw

warnings: fluff, small angsty (but with a happy ending!!!), explicit language, SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, protected sex 💪🏻, fingering, kinda rough sex? (this is the roughest i think i can do, unironically lol). lmk if I missed something!

request: reader is a musical actor/actress who takes many roles in musicals, plays, some movies and so and so forth. heeseung goes to one of the reader's musicals and is enamored by their voice and talent, and of course, their looks. (read the full request here!)

wc: 19k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire

Heeseung rushed his way out of his car, jogging through the people in the middle of his route to get to the theater as soon as he could, already knowing Sunoo was so pissed off with his lateness.

He spotted the blonde haired furiously typing on his phone with a scowl expression, alone, waiting for him.

“Don’t even start with your lame excuses,” Sunoo stopped Heeseung before he said anything when he finally got to the younger’s side, glaring up from his phone and already hurrying his steps towards the theater entrance.

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung tried his best to sound apologetic, softening his gaze, opting for not making up any justification.

It wasn’t like he purposely got stuck in the traffic at all, however, he definitely was guilty about leaving the house twenty minutes later than he promised, just because he decided to finish up his League game.

It was Saturday, of course he would choose to spend some screen time doing his favorite hobby.

“I know you don’t like musicals, or almost anything related, but you kinda gave me your word, so…”

They both walked side by side, stopping quickly to show their tickets to the worker who let them in after verifying it in the system.

“I know, I know. And I’m really sorry.”

The lights were already off as the show was about to start, making them struggle a bit to find their seats; close to the edge and not too far from the stage.

“You won’t regret coming, Hee.” Sunoo smiled sweetly, already at ease with his behavior, picking up his phone to take a picture of the glowing set, just waiting for the right moment to start. He wasn’t really pissed with Heeseung, he knew the older one was actually doing him a favor. “I saw some pictures on instagram and it’s so pretty.”

Although Sunoo wasn’t lying about him, he was actually excited with the idea of watching something so different from his natural liking, and the bright, enthusiastic face Sunoo showed made his expectations grow even higher.

Heeseung diverted his eyes to the theater main floor when the instrumental started sounding through the speakers, indicating the play was about to start, a shiver of excitement running all the way through his spine while he straightened his back on the chair.

The story was being told from the main character’s perspective, as expected. But what really got Heeseung tilting his head to the side and his eyes glistening in interest was the incredible beauty of the actress.

She had expressions on point, as if she was born to be there, happily wandering through the whole stage with bright smiles, looking at the crowd once and a while and acting with pure talent. She shone in between the other actors, drawing attention easily towards her. Of course she had the main character aura that helped it a lot, however, at some point Heeseung was sure that he, himself, had an extra spotlight on her, eyes never leaving her meticulously calculated movements and attractive face.

The way she showed raw emotions from the beginning got Heeseung laughing, worried and relieved – a rollercoaster of emotions he never thought he would go through just by watching a Tangled musical.

He also caught himself wishing for the actress to drift her eyes through the crowd just once more, so she would feel his intense gaze and look at his way, in a very utopic, hopeless, line of thought.

When the said Aurora got the chance to finally sing, Heeseung just let himself completely fall in love, unconsciously sighing as his heart faltered a beat every once. He didn’t expect her to have such a loving, enchanting, singing voice, making his body ache in despair to have more of it.

The final act got him all smiling, clapping his hands with genuine enthusiasm as the actors bowed to the crowd thanking them for watching. When the curtains dramatically closed, Heeseung inclined his head a bit to the center so he could watch you going away, leaving him with a taste for more.

He thought about trying to go to the backstage, especially when he saw a few people lining up apparently to get a photo with the cast, but Sunoo was already walking his way out of the theater and he deduced it had some kind of special ticket to get that.

“Who is Aurora?” Heeseung eagerly asked Sunoo when they stepped out of the theater, walking through the parking lot. He had literal crossed fingers hidden inside his jacket pockets, in hopes of Sunoo knowing about the actress.

Sunoo playfully raised an eyebrow. “I know you don’t like musicals, but not to know who Aurora is, is kinda–”

“No, I meant the actress,” Heeseung hurried to correct himself, blaming the fact he was still in awe. “Do you know her name?”

“Oh,” Sunoo replied by taking his phone out of his pocket and opening his instagram, showing the screen to Heeseung. “It’s Y/N. She’s one of the most famous actresses for musicals like that. I love her acts, like all of them,” he replied with a big smile, gesturing with his hands.

Heeseung quickly got his phone to follow you after getting your username, not even caring about thanking Sunoo as he slid through your cute feed, shamelessly liking some of them. It wasn’t like you would notice him, as you had thousands of followers and a very busy routine, as it looked like.

And oh, you were so, so beautiful.

“So, how do you like it?” Sunoo asked with a small smirk when they stopped by Heeseung’s car, not failing to notice how the older one got really invested, although he wasn’t much sure if the fixation was about the musical itself or you.

“Honestly?” Heeseung locked his phone and opened his car. “I loved it more than I expected,” he answered with a genuine smile, a smile that did nothing to hide his real interest.

“It’s a pity this is the last one,” Sunoo said with a small pout when he entered the car, sitting on the passenger seat.

“W–What do you mean the last one?” Heeseung halted all his movements to fully face Sunoo with a slightly bewildered expression, who offered him confused eyes and a small frown.

“It’s the last Tangled musical they're gonna do,” he explained. “Y’know, they don’t do the same musicals over and over again. Especially with Y/N. She’s constantly casted for new ones,” Sunoo added, watching Heeseung’s face softening in relief before he started to drive.

“You seem to know a lot about her,” Heeseung said with curiosity, eyeing Sunoo quickly before paying attention back to the road, the street lights passing by working as a beautiful background.

“Yeah, I really love her work.” He said with a dreamy tone, and Heeseung nodded, since now he was kind of loving your work too. “It’s a shame we don’t get to have more from her here in the town.”

“Hm?” Heeseung's head snapped to face Sunoo, and gladly he had stopped at the red light in time.

“Musicals work almost like a band tour. They go through the whole country, stopping by cities for one or two weeks, it depends on the demand. This one had a three week engagement here!” He said excitedly, Heeseung paying attention to every detail. His heart sank inside his chest with the now acknowledgement of how your job worked, and the fact that he definitely wasn’t going to see you soon. “But college got me stuck, so I didn’t have the time to come and watch it. That’s why today was so special, as I texted you. It was the last one.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Heeseung said with a tender, genuine smile.

Heeseung’s car stopped by Sunoo’s place, and with a quick goodbye he left, leaving behind a completely silent Heeseung, lost in his own thoughts. How would he feed his newest obsession?

When Heeseung finally got back into his apartment, he cared little about changing his clothes into something more comfortable, sprawling on the couch while stalking your social media for a bit.

He watched your newly posted instagram stories, most of them being reposts of videos and photos from the audience that tagged you into it, saying how proud of you they were, how much they liked and how pretty you looked.

Heeseung remembered Sunoo taking a picture of the set before the play started, and quickly asked him for it so he could post it on his story as well, using the lame excuse that he wanted to show his followers his most new-found interest.

Of course Sunoo didn’t really bought it, but sent it anyway.

Heeseung had never felt nervous about posting something on his instagram, especially on his story, a place where pictures and videos only lasted 24 hours. Nevertheless, in the past you weren’t in the equation, you weren’t the main target, you didn’t even existed to him. So he double-checked the small text and if the picture looked good enough to stand out in between the probably hundred others you got tagged into, pressing the “send” button.

“First time watching it. I loved it so much. You really know how to catch people's attention @ y/n ;)”.

As the picture loaded, Heeseung instantly wondered if it was too much, with widened eyes and heart pacing fast, panicking a bit as he paid close attention to how some of his friends liked and replied to it almost immediately, but nothing came from you.

He waited for a few minutes for your possible repost, since you were online just seconds ago, scrolling through his timeline, a chill feeling overgrowing in his chest every time the small red ball of notification painted the top of his phone. Then he let out a defeated sigh as the reality settled in – meeting you was unlikely, and the chances of someone as famous as you noticing an ordinary guy like him seemed impossible.

That night he hopelessly hoped to dream about you and your voice, so he could experience more of your distant, idol-like presence. He was so intrigued about you. Your beautiful features, your perfect acting, your incredible voice, everything extremely fascinating for his poor, weak heart.

Unfortunately Heeseung did not dreamt about you, but he woke up with his phone buzzing under his pillow.

With eyes squinting, Heeseung tried to understand why he got followed by a bunch of random people on instagram from last night. There were also a lot of texts from Sunoo in caps lock that his mind skipped reading and his everyday notifications that he always ignored. And then his attention was caught with your name.

He expected you to repost as you were doing for the majority of your fans, but you didn’t only reposted. You replied to him, directly.

“Thank you, sweetheart! Hope to see you more, then <3”

“It’s just a message. She probably sends it to everyone. She seems reachable through her social media.”

Heeseung was trying to convince Sunoo – and himself – that your reply meant nothing but a simple, standard gesture from an artist thanking their fans. After all, he was a grown man who understood how the industry worked, how they encouraged fanservices as a way of attracting more people from the outside and maintaining the ones who already considered themselves as fans.

Albeit his heart danced a different melody than his mind, doing flips just by remembering your sweet words.

“I don’t think so,” Sunoo retorted with a small grimace as he finished cleaning the corner of the cafeteria’s main counter. “The usual?” He asked Heeseung before getting ready to make his drink.

“Yeah, I’m running late for work,” Heeseung replied, glancing at his phone just to confirm that he probably would be ten minutes late to that morning’s meeting.

“But I think you should shoot your shot, y’know,” Sunoo said with a grin while mixing all the ingredients. “Slide into her DM’s or something.”

Heeseung couldn’t hold back a small chuckle, leaning his upper body on the counter. “Is that how young people flirt nowadays?”

Sunoo threw an offended glare at him. “Don’t act like you’re an oldie. You’re literally only 2 years older than me,” Heeseung laughed loudly at his reaction, shaking his head.

“I won’t do any of that, Sunoo,” he said softly and straightened his posture. “I’d rather just follow her work from afar. Me being in the audience and her, on the stage. That’s the closest I can get from her,” he now spoke more firmly, as if he tried to ground Sunoo’s expectative – and his own – down to reality.

He spent his whole Sunday watching filmed performances from some of your old plays, unable to get enough of your angelic voice, your palpable talent, and of course, your gorgeous, captivating outstanding looks. The knowledge that your job made you be constant for a year or less, and then you were away for months, preparing for the next musical, shattered his hope and made him accept that he would have to wait for you to return.

“Well, you do you. But in my personal opinion, you’re missing a big opportunity,” Sunoo handed Heeseung’s coffee, waiting for the charge and the usual tip.

Once again, Heeseung shook his head, smiling and paying for his drink. “Thank you, have a great day Sunoo.”

“You too, Hee.”

Heeseung wouldn’t admit that easily, but he gathered some of his favorite performances from you in a youtube playlist, so he could listen to it while driving through the city, the way to his work sounding prettier with your beautiful voice echoing in his ears.

As he parked his car, rushing to his meeting, he didn’t felt the large amount of stress he normally dealt with during Mondays, your melodic singing still fresh on his mind, easing the way he handled things through the day.

The following weeks passed fast with his daily routine; you, still filling up his head in an addicting mix of your sweet vocals and his eagerness of witnessing you owning the stage again.

Heeseung craved the electrifying rush of his heart racing with wonder after you captivated his soul he once felt when first watched you perform, as if he was in abstinence.

He monitored your social media for almost two months, hoping to see an announcement of your next musical or anything similar enough to give him a chance to listen and see you live, feeling extra hyped whenever he saw a picture of your practice, or other things related to your upcoming project.

He never got so invested in something or someone the way he was in you, especially after just so little time tasting from the source.

During a random Tuesday, fauxing listening to Jake’s rant about his new love interest and how confused he was feeling, he caught himself traveling through his own head, wondering what triggered this obsessive behavior.

Was it how dreamy you looked and sounded?

Was it the fact that he had to wait to get more from you?

Or maybe was the fact you were unreachable, acting like a bait to his delusional romantic heart?

Did he really fell in love with a famous person?

How bad was that?

“And you're ignoring me again.”

Heeseung blinked a few times to regain his consciousness back to reality, the one where Jake was shooting him an annoyed look and his food was getting cold; the thoughts about you and his respective questions evaporating from his mind quickly.

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit distracted today,” Heeseung slurped his, now, cold ramen, avoiding Jake’s judgmental eyes and grabbing his phone to see the notification that got it buzzing on the table.

“Oh, you tell me.” He rolled his eyes, before giving a quick head nod at Heeseung’s direction. “What’s going on?”

“Uh, nothing. You can continue your–” Heeseung was about to change the subject back to whatever Jake was talking, not wanting to admit that the reason he got so zoned out was you, although Jake was pretty much aware of this part of his friend’s life; Heeseung being a mess and failing completely in the art of downplaying. But then he saw Sunoo’s message. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Jake asked with concern, observing Heeseung’s expression morphing from a shocking one with widened eyes and mouth slightly agape, to an extremely joyful one, with a big smile creeping out of his lips, growing gradually.

“Oh shit, oh shit.”

“What!?” Jake exasperated, almost jumping over the table to try and see what got Heeseung so excited on his phone, curiosity overtaking him. “Huh?” He tilted his head with confusion, sitting back on his chair, trying to understand Heeseung’s overly stoked reaction over a simple poster from a musical.

On the other hand Heeseung’s heart was racing too quickly for his own liking, his hands faltering the grip on his phone as he read the dates for the performances, which were starting that weekend in some random place he didn’t paid attention since what caught his eyes was the theater name from the next week.

He couldn’t believe it.

You were coming back.

After all the waiting, here was the chance he'd been craving – the chance to see you live again. His fingers twitched with excitement as he clicked on the link to the ticket sales, not even caring about Jake’s bewildered face and questions, too focused on rushing to the ‘buy menu’.

“Oh shit, this is happening,” Heeseung muttered to himself, more to confirm it than to explain anything to Jake.

“Are you gonna tell me what the hell is going on or just forget I’m right here?” Jake demanded, clearly frustrated but also amused by Heeseung's sudden outburst.

Heeseung finally looked up, beaming, eyes gleaming with something Jake never really saw before; it was like a child who got their first videogame after years of asking for it.

"It’s her, Jake! That singer I told you about. She’s performing here in like… A few days?" The cool facade he tried to maintain had a fall long ago, his ‘fanboy side’ being more revealed than he wanted.

Jake’s confusion lingered for a second before he remembered Heeseung relentlessly talking about this mysterious woman, the musical actress who had somehow captivated his friend so intensely. He let out a knowing groan. “So, you’re still obsessing over her, huh?”

“Not obsessing,” Heeseung corrected with a grin that betrayed him, his whole expression showing that he was, in fact, obsessing. “Just… Eager.”

Jake shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Eager, huh?” He leaned closer, raising an eyebrow up. “Yeah, that’s what everyone says, and then they spend a fortune on front-row tickets."

“Oh, right. Front-row…” Heeseung mumbled to himself as he got back to his phone, browsing through the available seats, hands slightly trembling as his finger pressed down to choose one of the best seats in the theater – front and center – with Jake’s words echoing in his mind. Thanks to Sunoo, he saw the announcement just in enough time to pick that one, and he completely ignored the price for the said ticket.

“You’re really doing this?” Jake asked, incredulous watching Heeseung smile growing just before he bit his lower lip trying to contain it, as he leaned back on his chair.

“I have to,” Heeseung said, finding it hard to not smile. His whole body was partying with his heartbeat serving as the background music. "This is my chance to see her again."

Jake rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his amusement. “You’re so random.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung admitted with a shrug, his thoughts already drifting to the date he would see you, imagining your captivating presence on stage, singing with your ethereal voice, finally feeling every note in the same room as you with the attention you deserved.

He couldn’t wait.

Every time you opened a new show in a different city, your body reacted as if it was your first time on stage, the blended nervousness and excitement working perfectly together and resulting in an adrenaline boost for you to be on cloud nine.

You loved your job with all your soul. The family-like friendship you developed with your beloved crewmates and actors, the backstage of the plays where you sometimes helped with the props letting your creativity flow freely, the difficult work of memorizing the scenes keeping it to the original at the same time you add a few self-written lines here and there, even the chaos of the quick costume changes and fast makeup touch-up in between scenes.

But what got into your heart the most was the ability to sing your voice out, being the one under the spotlight, expressing yourself through your acting, surprising people with your so known talent the same amount you made them clap for your breathtaking performances – the cheers after every play you finished making you fulfilled, a constant feeling of accomplishment.

You worked hard to get into that position though. Years of intense studying in college, years of hard vocal lessons you still took to this day, years of working much to be paid less, until fame hit you and things have worked amazingly well since then.

Now, facing the closed curtains already in your performer mode, you waited your cue to enter the stage and own it as if it was yours – and almost every time, it actually was.

“Thirty seconds, Y/N,” your stage manager said to you and you nodded.

The new play was about an old film called Anastasia, in which you played the role of the said character. It also featured one of your favorite songs to sing, "Once Upon a December”. The haunting melody and lyrics evoked feelings of nostalgia, hitting deep on you as you drove yourself through it, just like the main character, searching for your identity and place in the world.

The atmosphere your fellow actors and crewmates created while you sang was the epitome of your presentation in your opinion; the created ballroom simulating phantoms dancing around you, so endearingly majestic and graceful, while they, themselves, sang the background, mimicking the lost memories of royalty Anastasia.

It would be an euphemism if you expressed yourself as just excited, especially due to your practice time on your expressions and voice changes to sound as heartbreak as the musical actually was, expecting the general opinion to enjoy it as much as you did.

You could hear the buzz from the public, showing the same enthusiasm. And with that in mind, you got your cue to enter the stage, fast and confident steps guiding you to your place.

As you directed yourself through the stage gracefully, easily taking the breath of anyone watching you, once more the sentiment of belonging eveloped you with a mix of love and deep sense of purpose.

The cheering, the emotional tears, the claps. You felt the audience's admiration through their eyes as the final note echoed in the theater while you held your last pose, breathing heavily as the weight of your performance resonated in your heart.

The curtains closed after you and the other actors bowed to the crowd, who gave a standing ovation to all of you. Your smile was bright and big as you walked your way to the backstage, high-fiving your co-workers – your friends –, sharing the sentiment of accomplishment as you searched for some water, throat extremely dry after so much effort.

Before you could even think about anything else, someone suddenly bear-hugged you.

“I don’t know how you manage to awe me everytime.”

You laughed, letting your friend lift and swirl you. “Oh come on, Jay. You literally saw every single practice,” you said with a light-hearted teasing tone and Jay gently put you back on the floor, letting you go from his strong embrace.

He rolled his eyes before replying. “You did amazing, as always.”

“We did amazing. It's teamwork, don’t forget it,” you winked at him and you both walked to one of the couches, so you could sit and rest for a bit. Your knees burned like hell after spending so much time wandering across the stage. “I wouldn’t be able to do any of that alone, especially without my favorite producer,” you nudged his shoulder playfully, drinking more of your water, making Jay chuckle.

The whole cast and some other crewmates came to compliment your amazing performance, you praising them back and always highlighting how grateful you were to have them not only as co-workers, but as a family, acknowledging the strong importance of their roles during your performances and in your life.

You went through the things that needed to be fixed for the next shows with your stage manager, the small changes in positions for the next theaters the tour would go based on their size and structure, while listening to the equipment and props crew discussing similar stuff.

“So… Where are we going to celebrate our “Anastasia debut”?” Yunjin asked, already frustrated with the fact that all her fellow members were talking about work just after working, you included.

“Don’t you have work to do?” You shoot her a small, playful grimace and she mimicked it, mocking you.

“I just did it, idiot.”

You smiled big as you hugged her from the waist, pulling her closer while resting your cheek on her belly, before questioning. “Where do you wanna go?”

Although partying wasn’t a part of your overall interest, having some drinks with the ones you cherished to be around always sounded fun, so with Yunjin leading – as usual –, many of you followed her into a small pub, having the fun you deserved after months of work that leaded to that night’s rewarding performance.

You couldn’t wait for the upcoming ones, your schedule packed with the amount of dates programmed for a long, exciting, run.

“Ugh, I love Seoul,” Yunjin murmured with a concentrated frown as she took some pictures from the bus window.

You chuckled, quickly glancing at your friend before grabbing your phone so you could reread some of the lines from the musical. Not that you struggled with memorizing the great amount of words you normally got, but you never let the chance to do a double check-up pass; always offering your bestest to your beloved audience was your prime motto.

So you didn’t even realize when the bus started slowing its speed, snapping out of your focused bubble only when you started to hear a small chant of your name. You looked up from your phone screen, watching a little crowd pass by the glass window waving at it showing big smiles, without even knowing if someone was noticing or not.

You always did.

Part of your job was to handle an audience, to make them fall in love with your acting and singing, so you could maintain them as close as possible and keep being able to live from what you loved the most. You enjoyed the interactions, treating them with the same amount of kindness and fondness they showed you through cute texts and letters, not to mention their words whenever they got to meet you in person. You tried to make yourself as available as you could, organizing your day to always have some free time to talk with your fans through your social media.

Although exhausting sometimes, it was a worthwhile endeavor at the end of the day – to sleep with the fresh conscience and heart fulfilled, feeling their genuine love and support, no money could pay that.

When you finally settled at your hotel room, you gave yourself a small self-love treatment by taking a long shower and doing your skin care before heading to the theater with part of the cast to do all the warm-ups routine you needed.

The day carried a revitalizing sensation, your heart thumping with enthusiasm as the third performance of Anastasia approached. This time, however, it was more than special. It was in Seoul, your hometown – a simple fact that worked perfectly as an emotional aura for your background story.

Seoul always held a special place in your heart. No matter how the tour went, you made sure your managers knew that taking Seoul off the list was unforgivable; no matter the demand, no matter how much you could lose financially, you had to perform there. And you thanked your cast and respective crewmates for understanding your request.

While you wrapped up all the final touches from your makeup, hair and costume, drinking your last sip of water, you waited for your cue, as usual, unaware of the surprises the night held for you.

Because on the other side of the story...

Heeseung sat on his front seat with hands trembling and a fluttering heart. Every movement from the crew organizing the set to be perfect made him sweat in eagerness. He was so close to see you again, to witness your charming presence, your divine vocals. He didn’t knew much about the story from Anastasia, expecting for you to sweetly tell him through your performance.

He was actually absorbed in the story being told, albeit his leg shaking showed his anticipation for your appearance.

Thenyou finally stepped up onto the stage. Heeseung’s breath got caught on his throat, widened eyes glued on your every move, on your every expression, never daring to let you escape out of its sight; the front-row seat offering him the perfect view of your amazing looks and talented acting, the sound echoing through the theater tingling his ears in the best way possible.

Then your voice filled up the theater. Heeseung let out a quiet sigh, mouth slightly opened, feeling light headed by how gorgeous you sounded – there was it again, the rush of his heart fluttering in the addicting way it did before, entranced by you, this time intensified, stronger, far more passionate.

As the melody of “Once Upon a December” flew through the air, your beautiful, shooting tone made it even harder not to shed some tears, alongside the couples dancing around you in an atmosphere almost painfully beautiful.

Heeseung was so enamored by every detail of you. How you expressed emotions with your body, with your singing, with your facials. His gaze never left you, following through your out’s and in’s from the stage to change outfits or scenes, missing you every moment you weren’t on the stage.

During your performance, each glimpse you shot at the crowd sent a shiver down his spine, as he silently begged for you to give him one, quick, minimal look, the smallest attention you could offer to him.

For a brief second, you did. Not intentional, but your eyes meet for milliseconds. Heeseung’s heart skipped a beat; the way you smiled as if it was to him fed his delusional self too hard for his own liking. He had to ground himself back to reality in order to continue to savor your captivating performance.

From your point of view, something was different that night. Among the sea of concentrated, curious expressions you normally faced while on stage, one particular person kept drawing your attention in a way it never happened before.

You came across many people watching you, most of them with widened eyes, or mouth open, or a small smile, regular reactions you got from the audience once you showed up.

However, the young man sitting in the front-row flooded you with such endearing reactions; his eyes gleaming with admiration, intensely following your every move almost making you blush. He looked at you as if you were the only person in the room. Soft, tender expression sending a weird mix of reactions through your body.

As you kept doing your act, you couldn't help but glance back at him again whenever you got the chance, trying your best not to be obvious with your sudden curiosity about this stranger who seemed so completely captivated by you.

His reaction was almost adorable – the way his face lit up, as though your small acknowledgment had made his entire night. You felt a warmth in your chest, knowing that someone out there was this touched by your performance.

Through the rest of the play, you forced yourself to focus only on finishing it perfectly. “Anastasia” asked for less of a passion, happy ambiance and more of a sentimental one, and because the spotlight was constantly on you, it was very unprofessional to forget your main reason to be there and falter on your acting.

Nevertheless, each time you quickly landed your gaze on the strange, young – and attractive – man, you couldn’t help. He wasn’t just a regular fan. There was something more in his orbs, something deeper, something magnetic, and you caught yourself having an internal conflict.

As you held your pose for the last piece of the play, showering emotion through your eyes for the happy ending, you nodded proudly to yourself when the cast prepared to wrap things up with the final performance.

Whoever the strange was, you apparently made quite an impression. And maybe, just maybe, he had made one on you too.

“Anastasia” was scheduled to be performed for three consecutives days, an entire weekend. Heeseung bought tickets for all of them, craving to experience you in all the ways he was able to – with the big stage separating you both, leaving him to just observe you from afar while you did your job.

Your job.

After the first night finished, Heeseung questioned himself whether he was perceiving things beyond reality, maybe distorted, influenced by his strange, yet pleasant and intense feelings for you. If not, he was pretty sure that you watched him as much as he watched you.

He recognized the flips his heart did every time your eyes landed on him, just to avoid quickly and slip back into your character – the need of seeing you again being reinforced by those exact little glimpses towards his direction, a river rushing through his head, full of confused thoughts.

Still, he reminded himself not to get too carried away. After all, you were working, captivating the audience was your job, which you did gracefully, gorgeously, charmingly. And charmed he was, in every possible sense of the word.

By the second night, Heeseung arrived earlier than he planned, the excitement to see you again swelling in his chest. Though this time he wasn’t on the front-row either alone, he still got a great seat to see you.

“I can’t believe you liked the musical that much to see it again,” Sunoo teased with a small smile.

Heeseung’s cheeks warmed instantly, a faint blush decorating it as he avoided Sunoo’s glance, before saying. “Y–yeah, I liked the musical a lot. I had to see it again,” he offered an award laugh, looking down his lap.

“Right. The musical.”

Heeseung was about to respond when the lights began to dim, the known introductory instrumental and the storyteller started to play their roles. His heart skipped a beat as his head lifted, eyes following the actors entering the stage as they started to tell the plot.

Just like before, as soon as you stepped onto the stage, his eyes glued on your beautiful figure. You looked even prettier that day, although you didn’t change anything since last night.

For a millisecond your emotional eyes drifted quickly to the crowd and Heeseung’s breath hitched, eager for you to notice him in order to confirm his delusional state, or worse, do the reverse, making him understand he was looking at the situation using too much of his romantic side.

His seat was not an easy spot to see him, and somehow that comforted his inner self. If he was right about last night, you would catch his presence, his intense, focused, admiring orbs following your every move. Otherwise, he would give up on whatever he was feeling about you.

On the other hand, Heeseung barely knew you were having a strong internal debate every time you went backstage to get out of your scene after finishing it. Heeseung had no idea you were looking for him like crazy, the best way you could. Heeseung couldn’t even imagine you, out of all the actors, would be using your highlight time, singing, to search for his mysterious presence, pretending to look at the audience as you normally did.

And you found him during “Once Upon a December” as you expected to do, since it was your moment to sing facing the crowd.

Ironically enough, the exact time you sang the line “Someone holds me safe and warm”, you locked eyes with him – caught totally out of guard, your heart started thumping in your chest too fast for your liking as you widened your eyes, then quickly recomposed yourself and fluttered your eyelids shut, concentrating on singing your emotional song.

Somehow you got captivated by his mysterious, yet gentle aura, standing out so easily among the sea of people, offering you cute and genuine reactions, showering you with admiration. Like a magnet, you kept glimpsing at him, finding it, again, adorable, how he always held eye contact, seeming a bit surprised, and then shyly drifted away. Even after finishing your solo, you couldn’t divert your gaze.

Heeseung, however, was a total mess. He noticed everything, and as an automatic response his heart was pacing fast, his throat getting dry and his mind spinning. It couldn't be a coincidence that you glanced at him that often mid-performance.

“I might be crazy,” Sunoo whispered out of the blue, using the loud sound of the singers doing their performance to stifle his voice. “But is Y/N looking at us? Or better, at you?”

Heeseung drifted his bambi eyes to Sunoo and back to the stage, frowning. “You–”

“See! She did it again!” Due to his exasperated way of saying, his whisper sounded a bit high. Some people gave him a mad grimace, he huffed an embarrassed laugh.

"She's an actress. She probably looks at a hundred people like that every night," Heeseung explained with a low voice, trying to convince himself more than Sunoo.

“Whatever you say,” Sunoo grinned at his friend before returning to watch the play.

As expected, the musical ended gracefully after a few moments of tension and the story finished to be told. Your acting skills shone through you every move, captivating the audience until the last second.

The lights dimmed once more, and the applause echoed through the theater vigorously in appreciation for that amazing show. Heeseung standed up to clap along, not even hiding he was searching for you amidst the chaos. When the cast bowed to the crowd, looking at them after straightening up to face the audience, a last and steady eye contact was held before the curtains closed, leaving Heeseung speechless, mouth slightly agape.

“Even if she looks at everyone, she had some special eyes for you tonight.” Sunoo said low near to Heeseung’s ear, feeding all his thoughts.

Heeseung left the theater more confused than he expected, trying to figure out if the connection was true, or if all the world decided to trick his mind. In any case, he had one more day to untangle the blended strings of his sentiments, and maybe, if he was lucky enough, the last show would work differently from the other two.

You were removing your makeup on your hotel room desk, Yunjin sitting on your bed finishing her own skin care routine.

“I know this sound crazy and unprofessional, but last night there was a guy on the front-row–”

“The burgundy-haired guy! He couldn’t stop looking at you!” Yunjin cut you off, saying loudly and too excitedly.

Your head snapped towards her. “Burgundy– Wait, you’ve noticed him too!?” You asked flabbergasted, before going back to cleaning your skin, removing your makeup.

“Of course I did, he was almost eating you alive,” she said, rolling her eyes as she applied her skin toner. You looked at her again, but now with a shocked face, trying to figure out the meaning behind her phrase. “But with love. In a cute way!” She clarified after noticing your exaggerated reaction.

“I was afraid I was seeing things,” you frowned, looking at her through the mirror in front of you.

“Girl, definitely not,” she smirked. “If he shows up tomorrow again, please, for the sake of everything, get his number,” she demanded seriously and pointed to you with the bottle of the cream she held.

“Oh, of course I will,” you said with a layer of sarcasm, not holding back your grin. “I’ll jump off of the stage mid-performance, hand him a paper and ask for his number.”

Yunjin giggled, nudging you with wiggly eyebrows. “Maybe that’s the grand finale we all need.”

You chuckled at her response, however, your thoughts drifted back to the said burgundy-haired guy, the memory of his intense, pierce, yet lovingly eyes glued on you sending a small heat to your cheeks as you finished your skin care.

When you woke up the next morning, your stage manager demanded the presence of everyone in the theater way earlier than you expected for some practice time.

As the night approached, you found yourself now behind the big, red curtains with the buzz from the audience serving as a background. You stood in a corner of the backstage area, counting down from ten to one as a mental exercise to calm yourself.

The anxiety you felt wasn’t the usual thrilling excitement before entering the stage, the longing to shine as the main act from the night. No, this time it was mixed with something else.

There was a big chance the nameless guy would be in the audience once more, eyes glued on you like a magnet, attracting yours instinctively, in a way you didn’t found too pleasant still; a tall, strong barrier inside your chest making it difficult to ease things while working.

The familiar voice from Jay broke you out of your thoughts, interrupting your now inhale-exhale exercise.

“So, I’ve heard you’re changing your performance for today.” He said, voice laced with playfulness and curiosity.

You turned to face him, blinking in surprise. “What?”

“Get the number of the ‘burgundy-haired guy’?” His eyes sparkled with a mix of tease and amusement. “Or whatever Yunjin named him. Who uses burgundy as an everyday word?”

You shut your eyes close, finally understanding his words. “Ah.” You chuckled softly. “Yeah, the burgundy-haired guy.”

Jay laughed, warm and reassuring, placing both his hands on your shoulders so you wouldn’t avoid his gaze as you opened your eyes. “Invite him backstage today.”

Once again, you offered him a confused look, but now with a strong lack of confidence among it. His quick senses noticed your doubtful expression and added with a soft voice. “Y/N, you’re a human. You’re allowed to feel your feelings. Even if it’s about someone from the audience.”

You kept looking at Jay’s gentle eyes, not even a hint of judgment behind them. “Ok,” you said in response, nodding slowly before a smile tempted to curve into your lips. “Better option than jumping on him mid-performance to ask for his number.”

Heeseung had finished watching you for the third time, doing the exact same things, singing the exact same songs, saying the exact same lines, with the exact same props and cast.

Still he experienced shivers down his spine once you sang “Once Upon a December”, a song that quickly crawled his ranking of your performances, topping all of the others. Not only that, you also seemed way confident today.

Heeseung, on the other hand, was getting flustered.

You didn’t care much about being obvious with your glances at him that night, sustaining eye contact longer than he expected. Heeseung felt that you were performing for him only, just like he watched you as if you were the only person on the stage.

You both shared an unspeakable connection in between the play – you, keeping as professional as possible; while Heeseung tried not to run away from your sharp, intriguing gaze.

Despite your initial nervousness, especially without knowing if the mysterious guy would appear again, feeding your anticipation inside your chest as you entered the stage, it took less than minutes for your eyes to find him, sitting on the side, giving you a small, shy smile.

You made no effort to contain your heartbeats increasing each time your eyes met, allowing your body to feel the wave of euphoria running through it, regardless of your hesitant thoughts about being unprofessional.

Whenever your character demonstrated happy emotions, with your lips curving into a smile, you searched for him as though you were smiling at him. Same thing when you sang some specific lines, searching from his sweet orbs following your figure already. Although the concept of the musical wasn’t necessarily romantic nor suggestive, there were some gaps you could use to your advantage, and you did.

By the end of your last performance in Seoul, you smiled brightly and big at the crowd, thanking them alongside your crewmates, bowing and waving goodbye; the known sense of accomplishment flowing into your veins, now blended with the excitement for your next move.

As you walked your way out of the stage, before the big curtains fully closed, lights already dim in the stage but bright on the seats side, you searched once more for the man who had charmed you. He was also making his way out of the theater, your heart pounding in despair as if you were about to lose him.

But like you attracted him through your intense staring, he looked back directly at you. Boldly, you offered a shy smile, biting your lips hesitantly before grabbing your manager's arm and sneakily pointing out to who you wanted to meet backstage.

Heeseung’s heart raced as he watched the ongoing scene, mind unable to wrap a full comprehension about why you and some stranger were staring at him, even scanning his surroundings to make sure he wasn’t seeing things – like maybe you were looking out for some other person. Then he noticed you pointing and the other strange nodding, as if they finally understood your intentions, almost mouthering an “oh”.

Heeseung tilted his head, swallowing hard as a slight frown formed when he saw you vanishing behind the closed curtains, leaving him to deal with his puzzled brain alone. He blinked a few times, then shrugged to himself, putting his hands in his jacket’s pocket, even shaking his head trying to recompose.

As he took the exit direction with the rest of the people, a security guard suddenly stopped him by grabbing his shoulder, saying in a low tone. "Sir, you’ve been requested backstage."

Heeseung was unsure if he heard correctly.

"Backstage? Me?" He stammered, mouth slightly open and bambi eyes full of confusion. Did he do something wrong?

The guard nodded and motioned to him. “Follow me, please.”

Heeseung legs felt like jelly following the random guard into the said backstage, a blurred motion of his surroundings as the crew passed by, some removing the props off the stage, many others wandering around, and then he recognized the actors from the musical talking in between themselves, loud laughters echoing through the small area, some with their stage clothes on.

Then he saw you.

Still wearing parts of your outfit, smiling radiantly while chatting with someone he made no effort to identify – his body perked up with the sight of you, his whole being drawn like a magnet.

He barely noticed the guard was long gone by now, leaving him standing awkwardly with mingled feelings he couldn't figure out yet. Bewilderment was a euphemism to describe it.

You seemed even prettier now than under the spotlight, shining on the stage. You seemed natural, although you still had makeup and pieces of your exaggerated royal costume on.

As you sensed the intensity of his stare, you turned, eyes locking immediately with Heeseung’s. The spark he would often feel when watching you perform ignited again, hands trembling, heart painfully resonating loud on his ears as the whole world seemed to fade out when you started to walk into his direction.

He was so in awe he didn’t notice you were hesitant, your movements appearing to be slowed down in his vision.

“Hi.” You said softly as you reached closer, biting your lower lip to suppress your excited smile, afraid of scaring the guy off.

Your gaze wandered his face, taking in his gorgeous features; adorable bambi eyes showing you an entire night sky full of stars, cheeks with a faint blush, cherry lips slightly parted. Unnecessarily attractive.

If you paid close attention, you would perceive how his ears also were painted in a light shade of red.

“Hi.” He breathed out in an astonished way, a sweet voice that made your stomach do a flip.

“I’m sorry for bringing you here so suddenly.” You started, and although you felt a small heat in your cheeks, you didn’t broke eye contact. “I– Honestly, I was afraid of losing sight of you,” you grinned shyly. “I’ve noticed you in the audience for the past two days and today as well.” You explained, after receiving nothing in response. “I wondered what got you so invested,” and then you chuckled, forcely agreeing that your choice of words was enough to clarify – for sure it wasn’t, but you decided to deal with whatever consequences later.

Heeseung blinked with the new piece of information that entered his brain, perplexed by how sincere you worded it.

“You noticed me?” He could feel his heart faltering some beats and then fastening again, totally desynchronized. Gladly he could figure out something to say, since his throat felt like closing.

“Yeah, quite hard not to when you look at me so intensely with your beauti– with your eyes,” you tried to sound chill and playful to ease things, making it less awkward. However, the way you spoke seemed a bit too flirty, not to mention you almost let a compliment slip out of your mouth, and he blushed harder, chuckling.

“I didn’t mean to stare. I mean, you’re an actress of course you’re used to that, but I recognize I might have crossed the line,” he was strong in maintaining his eyes on you, but the way you were looking through your eyelashes, blinking slowly, so prettily right in front of him, broke down his confidence – in a good, amazing way. Everything feeling like a fever dream.

You giggled, loving how you were affecting him, just as much as he was messing you. Before you could say anything, he added with a small shrug.

“I just got captivated by you.” And he went back into locking his eyes with yours.

Now it was your time to get a bit flustered, still, you held it together just before reuniting all the forces you found internally to say your next words.

“You’ve crossed no lines,” you smiled. “And I’ve got captivated by you.”

You watched how his Addam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, the tension on his body loosening slightly, his timid smile spreading gradually wider as though your words unlocked something different deep within him. Somehow, you got even curious about what he could show you.

“May I ask your name?”

“Heeseung. Lee Heeseung,” he responded, offering you his hand. Your eyes followed the movement as you gave him a sheepish grin, grabbing his warm palm, the touch lingering enough to make your breath hitch.

“I’m Y/N,” you replied playfully, making him laugh, holding hands still.

His eyes turned into small crescents as he did so, his soft chuckle resonating beautifully in your ears. For some random reason, your heart started to beat faster, an interesting feeling spreading all over your chest, making you sigh.

“You were incredible up there,” Heeseung said after you both let each other’s hands go, blocking the awkwardness from establishing in between you two.

“Yeah?” You raised an eyebrow and your lips curved into a smirk, knowing very much you did amazing, but a compliment from a gorgeous man like that easily ruined your confidence and contradictory, at the same time, it flattered your ego. “Thank you.” You said, right before analyzing you and Heeseung were standing in the middle of nowhere inside the backstage of the theater, so you gently grabbed his arm and dragged him with you to a corner.

Heeseung just followed you, in trance with your beauty, with your presence, with you. He also observed that your normal voice sounded quite different from when you were on stage. Endearing, if he dared to say.

As you reached a quieter corner, you let go from his arm and leaned into the wall, curiosity filling your eyes as you bit your lower lip.

“Sorry about that,” you said with a small, awkward chuckle. “Didn’t want us to block the path,” you nodded to where you were before.

“No problem,” Heeseung replied, still processing the sudden pull, the phantom of your warm touch still tingling on his skin.

“So, besides me,” you said, crossing your arms in front of you, a hint of playfulness glinting in your eyes. “What did you think of ‘Anastasia’?”

Heeseung let out a chuckle, his tongue briefly sweeping over his lips as he took a moment to answer.

“I loved every bit of it,” his voice dropped slightly and his gaze deepened. Although the known tenderness seemed to be mingled with it, there were more layers on it. “But I have to admit. You were my main focus.”

You giggled again. Second time in just a few minutes together. Heeseung actually felt like going to heaven and back to earth with the sound of your giggles, having to physically stop himself from his hands touching you, caressing your adorable blushed cheeks or landing on your hips.

“You flatter me,” you said sheepishly, uncrossing your arms. “But I’m sure I wasn’t that distracting, Heeseung.”

His name sounded so much more beautiful in your voice – the way you said it was magnetic, with a hint of sensuality and teasing, making his heart skip several beats.

“You definitely were, Y/N.” He opted to play in your game, taking a step closer, recognizing the change of the atmosphere between you two.

You also were aware of the shift in the air, allowing your flirty, shameless part to shine brighter during the conversation. “I think I owe you a proper thank you for being such an attentive audience member.”

Heeseung’s smile slowly faded out, his eyes softening and growing more intense, half-lidded with anticipation as you reached to hold his hand.

“How do you plan on doing that?” He asked, husky voice tickling your stomach, his fingers sweetly playing with yours.

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, your nervousness evident as you replied, “Would you mind waiting for me to change? It’ll take about an hour...”

“Absolutely not,” he eagerly replied, eyes lightening up with expectation. Then he lifted your hand until his lips touched it and placed a tender kiss, as an unspoken promise he would wait for you. “I’ll be right here. Take your time.”

The soft press of his lips on your skin sent a shiver down your spine, the warmth spreading directly into your heart making your pulse race.

Unwillingly, you released his brief, yet electrifying touch, offering a flustered grin and a reassuring nod while the anticipation grew within you. As you turned towards the changing room, you could feel the weight of his gaze lingering on your back, never once losing sight of you.

Yunjin met you there, more excited than you by your supposed date, to which you shut down right away saying it wasn’t a date. Despite your complaints, she kept her usual cheerful energy, helping you to undo your hairstyle as you removed your makeup, just to apply something more natural and less theatrical. You took a quick shower, as the heavy stage clothes and intense movements during the performance had left you feeling sweaty and disheveled.

Despite rushing your time, the fear that Heeseung might already be long gone was rapidly sinking in, so you hurried your steps out of the changing room when you finished your things, walking back to where you left him.

You let out a relieved sigh as you saw his figure happily talking with one of your friends, now with his back facing you.

“Oh, so you already met Jay.” You greeted them with a smile.

Heeseung averted his attention to your approach, your fresh sprayed perfume infiltrating his airways. He took his time to check you out shamelessly with his pretty bambi eyes filled with a perfect mixture of adoration and something darker.

“Yeah, he did.” Jay nodded with a smile, before leaning closer to whisper in your ear. “He seems pretty great, Y/N. Amazing choice,” and he wiggled his eyebrows playfully, walking away after saying a quick goodbye.

You felt your cheeks heating up with your friend's words, a faint blush decorating the area, to which Heeseung noticed right away.

“You look beautiful.” He said softly, loving how casual you wore yourself; loose black shirt, baggy jeans and black converse.

Your natural look would always be his favorite – he wouldn’t admit that easy, but he stalked your instagram like crazy during the first days, so he was aware of a few things about your visual. However, no one prepared his heart to face it so closely, your beauty glowing even stronger now.

“Thank you.”

He got startled when you kindly took his hand with yours, pulse racing with the sudden intimate touch. Nonetheless, he was loving every second of it, fearlessly lacing your fingers, paying close attention to your reaction. As he expected, you smiled sheepishly.

“Would it be disappointing that my suggestion is a private bar near here, so we can drink and talk?” You hesitantly asked as you started to head towards the exit.

“Of course not.” Heeseung shot you with one of his sweet, reassuring glances. “I would go anywhere with you.”

You chuckled, unconsciously squeezing his hand as you tried to run from his flirty eyes. “You shouldn’t say things you can’t carry out.” You said, teasingly.

You both reached out of the theater using the back exit, avoiding the public so you could have some privacy. Being famous had its perks, but also a lot of downs, the lack of privacy being one of them. Nonetheless, you loved each individual part of it; since the beginning of your career you built a good community. In your relationship with your fans, you constantly reinforced yours and theirs boundaries.

“You think I can’t?” He quirked an eyebrow, a sly smirk taking place on his cherry lips. You couldn’t help but focus on how Heeseung appeared even more handsome under the city’s nightlights, sharp lines being evidenced while the fresh breeze messed up his burgundy hair. “Should I prove you wrong, then?”

You got a bit taken aback with his sudden confidence, yet, you loved to see this new side of him blooming with you, allowing yourself to indulge in the game as much as you were enjoying the player.

“Well,” you began to talk. “You have three days before I head to the next city.”

Although Heeseung’s chest tightened with your unexpected reality shock, reminding him that you were a busy woman, and traveling a lot was a enormous part of your work, he decided to enjoy your presence as much as you let him to, instead of overthinking about your soon departure.

Heeseung waited for you for months, he would wait for more if he needed to.

His smile softened, still, his eyes sparkled by your subtle challenge. “Three days, huh? I’ll have to make them unforgettable then.”

You laughed, his words sending a pleasantly thrill in your core, excited with his promise.

“Isn’t that too much pressure?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I like a challenge,” Heeseung shot back, playful voice laced with something deeper, almost daring.

You giggled at his response, only now noticing he hadn’t let go of your hand since the beginning. Initially, you were apprehensive about the intimate touch, but Heeseung’s presence stirred a surprising sense of ease within you. His effortless way of breaking through your barriers made you feel comfortable enough to be yourself, dissolving your reservations with a natural grace.

You wondered if it was because he seemed genuine with his actions, since the very first night offering you such sweet glances and admiration eyes.

During your walk, you could see through his kind actions how respectful and caring he was, switching places with you so he was the one on the road side of the sidewalk, letting you walk in front of him whenever the space was narrowed by the flush of people, and mostly just by letting you to talk without interruptions.

Despite Heeseung’s ability of lowering your defenses, you still had some difficult thoughts about allowing it too much. A strong part of you were afraid of giving other people’s free access to your private life. You wished Heeseung could prove to you he was worth it.

You reached the bar quicker than you expected, your relaxed chat filling up the walk as you discovered some of Heeseung’s personal traits and that he worked in the entertainment industry, being the one behind the scenes in the marketing area for some brands. Also you find out that his favorite hobby was to play on his computer during his free time and watch random youtube videos.

Since you knew the place, you chose a recluse seat near the corners, where no one could see you both having your intimate time together.

“I have to be honest,” Heeseung said after he sat down, facing you. “I’ve been in Seoul for God’s know how long, and I have never seen this bar.”

You laughed, grabbing the menu, your hungriness screaming in your stomach.

“I love it here.” You smiled. “It’s very private and not many people are allowed to enter. Actually, if I’m not mistaken, it’s kind of an artist type of place? Like famous people and, I don’t know, CEOs come here.” You explained, Heeseung nodding to your words.

Heeseung was so thrilled with the whole experience of getting to know you better. He had always envisioned you as an idol-like figure. Your unreachable, distant persona, unallowing his mind to go further than watching you on stage.

Ironically enough, the natural side you showed so far warmed his heart even more. Your bold humor, your confident actions, how your eyes lit up when you talked about your job and interests – everything working perfectly to make it harder not to fall for you.

Seeing you out of the actress aura, in a more relaxed and genuine setting, only deepened his fascination. The charm you once threw at him increased gradually as he felt his heart fluttering with your laughter and easy talk.

You both got along like it was meant to be.

“I actually became interested in musicals because of you,” he admitted after some chatting, sipping the non-alcoholic drink he ordered.

“How come?” You asked, interested in the story, biting your pajeon.

One thing you loved about your job was to hear people’s stories of how they got interested in musicals. You’ve heard many, some because of their parents, some due to curiosity, others because of seeing it online.

However, Heeseung’s one was a bit… Different from what you expected.

“Oh,” Heeseung expressed with a shy smile, lowering his eyes to his glass, playing with the border of it. You cocked your head to the side, wondering why he went silent after your question. “I kinda…” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, the movement neatly noticed by you. “Fell for your aura, y’know?” He tried his best not to say he fell for you. “Your voice is amazing. And you looked so confident.”

You blinked slowly with a bright smile, loving to see his flustered self gathering all the resources in his body trying not to be so obvious, although his eyes never lied to you. Heeseung’s words and the way his body was reacting unlocked something bold inside your chest.

You were about to speak, thanking him for his appreciation or whatever your mind could come up with, but he continued.

“The first time I watched a musical was when you did Tangled,” Heeseung was doing his best not to look at your eyes, afraid of losing his inner battle and saying what he wasn’t planning to. “I was accompanying a friend that loves you.”

“Oh,” You said excitedly, a smirk on your lips. You raised your glass and clinked it with his. “Cheers to your friend then.” You laughed at his confused reaction, now finally looking at you with his blushed cheeks, unnecessarily adorable. “Thanks to him, we met. Isn’t that right?”

A darker shade of red painted his cheeks as he smiled bashfully.

“I think we can say that, yeah.” He nodded, taking a good sip of his drink, bambi eyes following your movements.

You leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling with what Heeseung read as mischief, making his heart falter some beats.

“So you’re saying you’re a fan of mine now?” You teased, biting your lip shamelessly as your eyes drifted to Heeseung’s cherry ones. The alcohol in your veins facilitating not only your words to come out, but your actions to be bolder.

Heeseung got initially stunned by your not so subtle flirting, pulse increasing fast. Then he decided to get on your game, purposely wetting his lips just to watch your gaze tracking motion of it.

“Definitely a fan of yours, Y/N.” He smirked, also leaning in, your faces close enough for your breaths to slightly mingle.

“And you’re devoted too. Attentively paying attention to me…” You purred, tilting your head to the side as your eyes softened, totally switching the atmosphere between you too once more.

Something about the way Heeseung was attractive, had a good talk and seemed to be loving spending that small time with you, was stirring with you, to the point of you moving uncomfortable on your chair because the way he seemed to be so kissable right now was driving you insane.

Heeseung had his lips slightly agape and glistening due to his recent sip, hooded eyes analyzing your expression with adoration and wanting, as if he wasn’t afraid of showing off his feelings anymore. You appeared to be more interested in what he could offer than he was captivated by you, allowing Heeseung to gradually become confident.

His gaze lingered on your lips, the corners of his mouth twitching into a sly smirk.

“My car is parked in the theater parking lot.” He murmured, looking around before standing up just to sit on your side – you didn’t knew if it was purposeful, but the way he positioned himself covered your figure, so no one would recognize you. “Can I take you somewhere more private?” He took the chance to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You were flabbergasted by his sudden caring gesture, albeit intrigued by the boldness in his eyes. A small breath escaped your lips as your heart started to beat fast.

“Somewhere more private?” You echoed, voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung nodded, now gently brushing his thumb on your cheek, heating the area.

“Only if you want to.” He added, his voice dropping down a tone, eyes locked into yours.

Your whole body got electrified by the amazing sensations Heeseung was making you go through.

“Take the lead, pretty boy.” You voiced out as you moved your head just enough to plant a small, tender kiss on his palm.

Your words were all it took for Heeseung to ask for the check, and didn't let you pay for your food and drink when he did so, despite your objections. You rolled your eyes, though your heart fluttered at the way he took charge so effortlessly, as if the thought of you paying for that night never crossed his mind.

“I don’t think it’s safe for you to be around the theater still. Is it ok for me to go get my car and then I pick you up here?” As if he hadn’t been a gentleman enough throughout the night, he questioned before you could stand up, taking your privacy into consideration for his decisions.

“Sounds great.” You answered, forcing your body not to overreact and your voice to sound as normal as you could. “But how do I know you won’t leave me hanging?” You questioned cheekily, though there was a hint of insecurity in your voice. After all, Heeseung could be the most captivating man in the world, but you had only known him for a few hours.

“You have to trust me,” he said, throwing you a quick cocky wink paired with a smirk as he made his way out of the bar, longing his gaze on you before disappearing from the main door.

Heeseung had no idea how those simple words and gestures affected you. Crossing your legs did little to calm the rush of feelings surging through your core.

You sighed, grabbing your phone to message Yunjin about the change of plans. She was way more excited than you, making you laugh as you typed you probably wouldn’t sleep at the hotel with her that night.

Anyway, you were also making sure someone in your circle of friends knew your whereabouts. Again, being famous had its downs, and dealing with creepy people was on the list as well.

You waited sitting for a few minutes before going outside, since you didn’t wanted Heeseung to make the effort of turning off his car to announce he was waiting for you. Gladly, there were a small number of people outside, and you stood near to the security guard just in case.

You spotted a black car pulling up in front of where you were standing after a while, the window rolling down revealing Heeseung on the driver’s seat with a small smile.

“Hey,” your lips curved into a relieved smile and you opened the door to enter the car.

Heeseung felt bad for being unable to do that for you since he had stopped in a traffic place where he couldn’t stop for too long. Instantly you sent your live location to Yunjin, just to be safe.

“I know I was the one who brought up finding a more private place,” he started, a bit uncertain. “But do you have any place in mind?”

His question made you think for a while. Your hotel was out of question, since Yunjin was sleeping there too.

“I don’t wanna take you to my place right away.” He added quickly. “Don’t get me wrong. I just don’t feel you would be as comfortable there…” He trailed off, glancing at you for a millisecond.

“Because you know your place better than me.” You completed, quirking an eyebrow at him with a smirk tugging the corner of your lips.

“Exactly.”

“Are you a stalker or just a perfect gentleman?” You asked with curiosity and playfulness.

Heeseung let out a hearty, loud laugh, filling up the inside of his car as he ignored how his stomach did a flip about being a perfect gentleman in your eyes.

“Neither, I hope.” He chuckled, looking at you warmly when he stopped in one red light.

You smiled, enjoying how at ease you became around him, the blended seductive and playful atmosphere around you two building up the ideal scenery for you to fall for Heeseung.

On the other hand, Heeseung wasn’t different. Slightly afraid of scaring you or making you uncomfortable, but still, loving the way you expressed yourself so vividly, making him laugh every second.

“So… We’re going…?” He sweetly asked after your silence, waiting for your suggestion.

What Heeseung didn’t expect was to see your whole face lit up with seductive playfulness, the anticipation building up before you spoke, your velvety, low voice sending signals straight to his core, as your eyes drenched him in lust.

“Anywhere we can have a bed, Heeseung.”

Heeseung didn’t let you pay for the chosen hotel room as well, to which your body reacted instantly as the heat increased, your desire dripping out your eyes as you devoured him shamelessly.

His impeccable manners were almost too good to be true, being such a gentleman during the night, leading the way, but only after your consent, after asking you, after you taking the decisions. He listened to your wants and found a solution easily, a characteristic you found extremely attractive.

It was incredibly refreshing to find a man like him, so devoted to making you feel like a queen, allowing you to simply relax and enjoy yourself without you having to ask for it.

Now, however, you needed him to solve another problem, the one in which your arousal had left your panties dampened and you restless.

Seeing his charismatic interaction with the worker as nonchalantly doing the check-in, the smile after thanking them, the skilful hands grabbing his wallet, his eyes switching from tenderness to raw desire when landing them on you. Heeseung was clearly struggling to contain his eagerness to take you to an intimate setting as soon as possible. His restraintment was driving you wild, intensifying your anticipation.

How were you being so affected by that? Also, you weren’t one to hook up on your first meeting – not even calling it a date, since it was a rushed last minute type of situation.

Then you remembered. Heeseung had built up the perfect atmosphere for you both since the very first day you saw him.

His beaming expression, eyes glued on you, showing genuine enchantment by your performance and now, you understood, by your beauty as well. You felt more than flattered to charm someone so hot and attentive as him.

His easy going personality and the way he acted like a true man, demonstrating to genuinely care about you, made a perfect blend of your ideal type – you didn’t even knew you had one until now.

As soon as you entered the elevator, it took one simple glance from Heeseung for you to attach your lips on his, shivering at the sweet taste of his mouth as your hands searched for support on his shoulders.

He got taken aback by your sudden decision, but didn’t hesitate to reciprocate your touch, eager for more since day one. Oh, he was in heaven by the way you were falling apart right in front of his eyes, because he, himself, was drowning in your presence since the beginning.

His mannerism around you was flawless, how he positioned his hands respectfully on your waist instead of lower, making you smirk in between the rushed kiss, totally contradictory to how his tongue passionately searched for yours to deepen the touch.

There were no words being spoken at that moment, but so much was being vocalized through his hitched breath and your soft moans, the ones that made Heeseung’s dick twitch in his pants.

“Fuck,” he groaned and threw his head back when you deattached your mouth just to kiss other parts of his exposed skin.

In no moment you wondered if it was a set up, because if so, Heeseung was a better actor than you. There was no way he was faking his reactions while your lips sucked the flesh of his neck vigorously, as if your life depended on it, not even caring about marking the area as you did so.

Both of you shared the same thinking: the door needs to open soon, otherwise the elevator cameras would be filming something very intimate.

Heeseung went back to kissing you, already addicted to your taste, sucking your tongue and lip fervently just to hear your sounds once again. You scratched his nape with your fingernails when you finally heard the sound of the door opening, both of you giggling in between the kiss since none of you decided to move away, stumbling your steps until you reached the room door.

Heeseung positioned your back against the wall just to skilfully unlock the entrance, pushing you against the door to open and closing it back with his feet.

You took no time to appreciate the beauty of the room, eagerly waiting for the moment the back of your knee would hit the bed and you would finally have Heeseung hovering you the way you wished the most.

You removed Heeseung’s jacket and tossed it at some random place on the floor before he maneuvered your body when you reached the soft mattress, so you could lay comfortably – his strong grip on your thigh and hip sending jolts of excitement to your core as you gasped for air, but never once completely breaking the contact of his sultry, hot mouth against yours.

He wasted no second to position himself over you, the weight of his body pressing yours in an electrifying way, his lips only backing away to place rough kisses on your neck, nibbling your ear lobe as his fingers infiltrated your shirt to touch the bare skin of your stomach.

Your body reacted instantly with the amount of stimulus, arching into him, yearning more and more of his heated hands and mouth working wonders on you. Instinctively, your fingers tugged his beautiful strands of hair while pulling him down, closer, inciting Heeseung to continue his assault on your sensitive flesh.

However, as your impatience grew, so did your desire.

“Heeseung…” You breathed out, panties already ruined by how wet you were.

“Hm?” He murmured, trailing kisses until he reached your mouth again, his hands still heating the area of your waist as he caressed it painfully slowly, giving you a rush of chills.

You kissed him back, then pushed him away by pulling his hair, searching for his now darkened eyes, filled with lust and a small hint of the usual tenderness towards you. You watched how his gaze switched between your lips, your eyes and other areas of your face, as if he was memorizing every feature of yours to keep them as a personal picture.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” you whispered with your voice rich with desire, your heavy breaths mingling with Heeseung’s in an intimate way you didn’t expect to feel with him so easily.

He chuckled at himself, blinking slowly as he bit his lower lip, hooded eyelids demonstrating how far gone for you he already was, lost in his pleasure.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back, planting a sweet kiss on each of your cheeks. “You just feel too good.”

And he wasn’t lying.

The way your body reacted to all of his touches so far was driving him instantly to hell and back to earth, his own skin tingling with a hunger he never felt before just by hearing your small, beautiful sounds. Heeseung wished to stop time and have you like that for the rest of his life, even if it sounded exaggerated and premature. He developed feelings for you long enough to have his mind working in that way, yearning for every bit of you, with his sharp gaze catching all of your reactions as he always did.

“I want to enjoy every second I have with you.” Heeseung admitted genuinely. You noticed the top of his ears turning into a cute shade of red.

“You can do that,” you reassured, downing your hands from his hair to his shoulders and then to his strong arms, almost moaning after feeling them tensing under your touch. “But please,” you pleaded firmly with a low voice, squeezing his biceps. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

With a small nod, a sly grin and a brief peck on your lips, Heeseung sat on his knees, the hands once under your shirt just brushing slightly the area, glided slowly over your skin as he moved to undress the fabric off of your body.

He searched for your gaze before moving forward. “Are you sure about that?” He had stopped himself mid-action for your consentment, and you couldn’t help but smile, finding adorable his respectfulness with you, despite the obvious shared intense, almost tangible, desire.

“Totally.”

After your word he finally removed your shirt, leaving your upper body covered only with your bra.

You shivered under his lascivious gaze, devouring you shamelessly with a satisfied smirk. He looked drunk as he approached again, brushing his lips on your collarbone and then near your breasts, playing with it over the clothing piece teasingly, looking up at you with his big bambi eyes showing a faux innocence.

The fresh contact of his mouth and tongue against new parts of your body made you arch your back again, closing your eyes to enjoy the sensation. You felt his hands working its way to free your boobs and when he finally did, you moaned in relief.

“Fuck,” he groaned with a small, attractive frown, as if he was mad with your beauty. “You look perfect.”

You fluttered your eyes open, catching a sight of how dedicated Heeseung was sucking your hardened nipple while his hand massaged the other, eventually switching sides to give both equal treatment, and you also caught him already looking at you, savoring each of your reactions.

Little did you know that while tasting you, he was also engraving into his memory those raw, genuine expressions, so different from the ones he had seen when you were on stage, acting.

You managed to reach for the hem of his beige shirt, teasing to slide them off. He noticed right away your attempt and quickly helped you by sitting on his knees and undressing himself, revealing to your hungry eyes his slightly tanned torso, his muscles tensing as he moved to toss the clothing piece to the ground.

Heeseung got shy under your thirsty gaze, but how could you look at him any other way? His body seemed flawless under the room’s dim light, broad shoulders, biceps and chest with just the right amount of muscles. Not to mention the silver chain necklace adorning his neck, which you found particularly attractive, and his gorgeously messy hair.

“You’re so fucking hot, Heeseung.” You murmured with sincerity, your fingers trailing over his arms, feeling the firm texture beneath your touch.

The room appeared to shrink, the air getting thicker as your respiration accelerated with the view. The anticipation to feel all those parts pressing flush against yours grew, a thrill of excitement running throughout your body straight to your cunt.

Heeseung acted out of instinct after your praise, as if upon realizing your desire mirrored his own, the carefulness, the gentleness he was cherishing to give you during the night instantly vanished just to be replaced by the raw yearning of being inside you.

Of course he would still listen to your demands, there was a vivid part of him willing to give you the affection you deserved. However, by the way you cheekily smiled and how your gaze sharpened after him yanking his own jeans and then yours, he knew how you wanted it to happen.

Heeseung brushed his painfully hardened dick on your thigh as he reached for your mouth, kissing you fervently while one of his hands explored your clothed pussy. He moaned against your lips when you purposely slightly moved your leg to grace his cock with a bit more of friction, as a way of thanking him for rubbing your pulsing clit over your panties.

It was a shared intimate touch covering the visceral need of fucking you for good, his inner battle going on about how to treat you, since your non-verbal answer – lustful eyes and smile – didn’t meant much to him to be certain within his decision.

“Heeseung,” you moaned, grinding against the skilful fingers making circles on your clit, the fabric preventing you from feeling them directly on your pussy, making you annoyed. “I want you, stop teasing me.” You demanded, and instantly Heeseung moved his head to the curve of your neck, gently kissing it while pushing your panties to the side to start fingering you.

He collected a bit of your arousal on your slick folds, literally moaning just by the feeling of his digits sliding with ease on your pussy, pressing your entrance with one and then two, loving to hear your beautiful whimpers.

Heeseung supported himself with one arm just to watch your pleasant frown, your mouth slightly agape, your breath hitching, eyes fluttered shut.

“You look so fucking beautiful right now,” he admitted in a low, husky tone, sending shivers to your spine.

You opened your eyes, a sly smile adorning your lips as you said. “Imagine how beautiful I’ll be with your cock instead of your finger, then.”

Heeseung’s dick twitched against your thigh with your words. You observed his eyes darkening even more, taking in the challenge as his life depended on it, barely giving you time to process him removing all the clothing pieces from both of you, offering the gorgeous view of his reddened and extremely hard shaft, tip dripping precum.

Your mouth watered, but you ignored your sudden urge of sucking him, since your biggest want was to have that dick inside of you as soon as possible.

You tracked his movements with your eyes, a low groan escaping from your throat as you watched Heeseung put on the condom and pump his length a few times. The vein of his arm popped due to the motion, making you wonder how hot he would look desperately touching himself, a thought you opted to keep to yourself for now.

“I hope you don’t hold back.” You provoked, quivering beneath his heated body as he positioned himself to enter you, supporting himself with one arm as your hands found its comfort on his shoulders.

Heeseung looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a cocky smirk.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

His words only fueled the fire between you, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he aligned himself perfectly, his gaze never leaving yours.

“You’ve set the pace,” he murmured, low voice dripping with desire. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled as a response to his dirty and teasing words, a soft moan escaping your lips as he started to fill you up so perfectly. But Heeseung gave you no time to savor it properly, beginning to thrust deep and hard, yet agonizingly slow, as if he was messing with you right after your explicit request. The playful glint in his eyes made it clear how delighted he was by setting the rhythm, toying your pussy just how he wanted, enjoying a bit too much the show of the changes in your facial expressions.

“You feel so fucking good,” Heeseung sighed with a pleasant frown.

Your walls clenching around his sensitive dick was driving him insane, the euphoria to fuck you harder and faster rising in his chest, albeit he did his best to control it because he had two goals that night. First, to experience you in every possible way, and second, to make sure you never forgot just how incredible he could be at it.

You wanted to curse Heeseung’s pace, but it would be a lie to say you weren’t enjoying every second of his slowness, how it allowed you to feel each inch of his cock deliciously sliding inside you, delaying your run towards your relief.

Heeseung attached his lips on yours while keeping the deliberated grind, a passionate kiss mingled with your soft moans and hitched breaths.

There was something about the way he was treating your body with such devotion, taking his sweet time to taste your mouth while feeling your pussy sliding on his length, gradually learning exactly how to satisfy you.

His hands caressed your skin with affection, sensing it shivering under his contact, then he shot you a playful look, repositioning himself on his knees as he grabbed a pillow to place it under your waist, opening and slightly lifting your legs, in a way to give him easy and full access to hit you deeper.

You whimpered by the instant amazing feeling of Heeseung finding your g-spot right away, his face lighting up with the new information you just gave him without uttering a single word besides his name within moans.

“F–fuck, Heeseung–” Your broken voice and the desperation in your eyes served as the final push for Heeseung to lose control and speed his thrusts, your knuckles turning white with your strong grip on the sheets.

You let out a sequence of whimpers, groans, moans, whatever sounds you were able to make, entirely lost in your lustful pleasure, your whole body shaking on the bed as Heeseung frantically and intensely moved his hips.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I’d make your days unforgettable,” Heeseung’s husky, confident voice triggered a new wave of ecstasy throughout you.

You winced underneath him, fully unable to say cohesive words. Your mouth fell open, eyes rolled back right before fluttering shut within a frown. The lewd slaps sounds of him pounding roughly on your pussy making you completely dizzy, his urgent rhythm driving you close to the edge.

Heeseung’s breathing was heavy and erratic, filling the room together with your loud moans as he pushed you near to the brink of release, his hands squeezing whatever part of your legs he touched, your own hips unconsciously grinding to meet his rhythm.

The knot on your stomach tightened gradually, and Heeseung’s pace became unsteady. The small piece of your mind that still worked correctly deduced Heeseung was just as close as you to his own climax, so you tightened your walls purposely and opened your eyes just in the right time to catch a glimpse of Heeseung throwing back his head, consumed by his pleasure; his flushed neck glistening in sweat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he moaned, the fucking chain necklace dangling.

“Hee– close–” You tried to warn, you really did. But the whole moment got you overwhelmed in the bestest way possible. You barely had strength to think, let alone talk.

Heeseung snapped out of his blurry bliss with your voice echoing in his ears. His eyes searched for you right away, instantly moaning at the view of you, perfectly messy, falling apart, just for him to see.

He leaned forward, decreasing the distance between your torsos. Without a second thought, your hands roamed over his firm, strong arms until you reached his nape, pulling him into a sloppy kiss, as though your body naturally gravitated towards him, like a magnet.

Neither of you could keep on the kiss, Heeseung’s head falling besides yours as your fingernails scratched his back, the urge of your so close orgasm making you desperate.

“Please–” You pleaded without much thinking, legs evolving Heeseung’s waist trying to help his erratic movements.

“Come for me, yeah?” He murmured against your ear, holding back his own release just to feel your walls clenching him while achieving your orgasm. “Come for me like a good girl.”

And you did. Screaming his name, digging your nails on his skin, waving your body as the surge of your breathtaking climax rushed over it.

You felt Heeseung’s dick throbbing right before he filled up the condom with his release together with the beautifulest moan of the night, the one where he said your name lasciviously, hoarse and intimate in your ear.

Heeseung’s exhausted body collapsed on yours, his sweaty skin clinging to you and yet you gave no care. Your focus was on catching your breath, trying to ground yourself with your sight still hazy from the intensity of your climax.

“Holy shit,” you managed to whisper as you kept panting.

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung immediately replied, a small hint of guilt hidden in his husky voice.

“For giving me the best orgasm of my life?” You breathed out, chuckling. The post-orgasm high made you feel like jelly.

He laughed. The sound warming your chest and also helping you to calm down quickly.

“Did I hurt you?” Heeseung questioned with concern, looking at you.

You shook your head in response and he smiled. Your hooded eyes followed Heeseung’s gorgeous figure, going quickly to the bathroom to discard the condom and back to the bed, laying down next to you.

“I wasn’t planning on going that hard with you at first, but–”

“Yes, you were.” You interrupted with a playful smile. “And I’m glad you did. It was amazing, Heeseung,” the compliment slipped out of your mouth with ease as you caressed his hair and then his face.

Heeseung let out what sounded like a relieved sigh, as he pressed a peck on your cheek, then the corner of your lips before sucking your lower lip and kissing you properly.

“It was my pleasure, Y/N.” He whispered against your mouth, kissing you again with a sweetness that seemed impossible after what just happened, but you knew it was real, because he offered you the same tenderness since day one through his eyes.

You found yourself snuggling on his chest and he hugged you warmly. There was something in Heeseung's acts that exhaled intimacy in a way it scared you, knowing deep down if he kept treating you like that, you would inevitably grow attached to his presence.

You got lost in your thoughts for a while, torn in between the warmth of his body touching you with care and the sinking feeling of his inevitable departure. Although Heeseung seemed to be an amazing man, nothing would stop him from simply leaving, especially when there was no mention of commitment from any of you or whatsoever.

Nonetheless, Heeseung's connection with you appeared to grow stronger each second you spent together, because his first words after the long silence were “Can I get your number?”

You lifted your head from his torso, a bit flabbergasted by his sudden, unexpected question. You had to blink a few times and watch his bambi eyes show you curiosity with your reaction to know he wasn’t messing around.

“Sure. If you promise not to leak it out.” The only answer he offered you was his pinky for a pinky promise, to which you took in with a serious face. “You can’t break it, yeah?” And he laughed.

“Cross my heart, I won’t.”

The following three days felt like something in between a k-drama and a fever dream – too perfect to feel real.

Heeseung had work during the mornings and the afternoons, meaning he couldn’t be with you the whole day – unwillingly, of course. To which you thought it was great, since it allowed you to hang out with Yunjin and Jay, and also to concentrate on your job, rehearsing for the next performances alongside your castmates, warming up your vocals with your teacher, re-reading the lines just in case.

However, the anticipation tightened in your stomach with every buzz of your phone with a notification, heart racing reading Heeseung’s name on the screen.

“I wanna see you soon.” “Can’t wait for tonight.” “Missing your pretty face, ngl.”

His simple texts did no good to help your inner battle, nor his perfect mannerism for caring about your health, your voice, your sleeping, the small things that sometimes neither you cared that much.

The fear of getting attached extremely fast to someone and having your heart broken was almost suffocating, and somehow Heeseung managed to wipe your thoughts away within every encounter.

There weren’t too many after the night you spent together, but each had a distinctive situation that deepened your connection.

Monday, he picked you up at your hotel after work for a small dinner at his favorite restaurant. You found yourself thirsting over his extremely good looking figure when he showed up in a simple, yet mesmerizing black button-down shirt with the first three buttons undone revealing a hint of his tanned skin beneath, and his usual heart-melting smile.

“Ready for tonight?” He asked you with a beaming face that filled your heart with warmth and a cocky grin that later on, led you to ride his dick until your legs burned after you both reached the chosen hotel for the night.

You were nothing but astonished with how deeply invested you got in Heeseung, longing for his presence every minute. The chemistry between you both was electric, the sexual tension almost palpable pairing in the air, blended perfectly with the easygoing atmosphere you always shared. Heeseung fulfilled your desires easily, as though he was reading his favorite book – you – knowing every line by heart.

The second time you met was in the middle the following day, when he decided to spend his lunch hour with you, sharing a meal as you casually chatted about everything. Heeseung had a comforting way of listening to you with softened and attentive eyes, nodding along, occasionally adding his own point of view with a relaxed charm. Not to mention how smart he sounded as he talked with his soft tone and how beautiful his laughter sounded when he genuinely enjoyed a joke.

“I didn’t know you enjoyed cooking that much,” he remarked at some point, his eyes lightening up after you shared your hobby of experimenting out new foods just to get their recipes and try doing it by yourself in your kitchen every once and a while during your free time.

You had no idea connections could be developed so quickly with someone as you did with Heeseung, how your energies and personalities complemented in a way that made every interaction feel effortless, as if words didn’t needed to be fully spoken in order to understand each other.

Later the same day, Heeseung met you at night again. He timidly admitted he hadn’t prepared much for the evening, but ended up making you the happiest woman on the earth by driving you both to a dinosaur museum exhibition after learning your fascination with them.

As you explored the exhibit, your eyes sparkled with excitement, and Heeseung couldn’t help but smile at your enthusiasm. You animatedly explained the different species ignoring completely the small text next to every skeleton – Heeseung doing the same, since listening to your voice sounded way more interesting than reading.

Your tone raised with joy as you pointed out the massive skeleton of the stegosaurus, eyes gleaming with love, your big smile making Heeseung’s heart falter some beats.

“You look so cute,” Heeseung said, chuckling softly, his hands hidden in his jacket’s pocket while tenderly watching you bouncing on your feet.

You beamed back at him. “It’s so interesting and cool to imagine those big boys walking on earth before us. Like, we are not literally, but somehow stepping on places they once stepped too.”

Heeseung’s gaze lingered on your glowing figure and at that moment, he recognized. He fell in love with you.

Not only for the talented actress on the stage, the amazing singer with an angelic voice, the famous performer who loved her fans with her whole heart.

Heeseung fell mainly for the genuine, happy, confident and warm woman in front of him. The one who easily sent chills through his spine just for laughing at his stupid jokes. The one who made the air thicker with her strong presence, just to stumble on her own legs and chuckle at it. The one who knew what she wanted and how she wanted. The one who secretly shared she was good at painting and handicrafts.

He could spend nights in hotel rooms hearing your moans and pants, feeling your intimate touches, kissing you mouth and any other place on your body he wanted to, but nothing compared to the fulfillment feeling spreading inside his chest when seeing you so pure, with raw emotions like that.

That night ended up like a date. He left you at your hotel and went home after kissing you slowly and tenderly at the entrance of the building, wishing you a good night's sleep and for you to take care.

It was your last day in Seoul before heading to the next city with the musical, and the bittersweet feeling weighed heavily on your heart. You were struggling with the drowning sentiment of leaving Heeseung behind, the idea of not knowing when, or even if he wanted to keep on seeing you made the lump in your throat hard to swallow.

Your insecurities grew heavier each second before the encounter. You hoped for Heeseung to come up with the sweet sorrow and necessary conversation first, since your messy, anxious thoughts did nothing to help you go through it without assuming the worst.

“Hi, pretty.” His sudden appearance startled you, drawing your gaze from the distant random point on the street you were staring at. “Sorry,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, his hands finding their comfort place on your waist, grounding you.

A smile spreads across your face, eyes brightening up with relief.

“Hi.” You greeted back, leaning to kiss him on the lips, pouring all the affection you felt into that simple gesture.

You wished Heeseung could sense how deep you were falling for him, quickly becoming a vital part of your daily life in such a small amount of time.

“Are you okay?” He asked with concern, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. “You seemed a bit oblivious.”

You shook your head, not only as a response to his question but to wipe away your confused thoughts.

“I’m better now.” You said, which wasn’t a lie.

“Great,” Heeseung whispered with a smile against your head before kissing the top of it and then held your hand to walk you to his car. “I’ve prepared something different for today.” He said with a cheekily grin, the playful glint on his gaze making you squint your eyes, suspicious. He laughed at your reaction, then you quirked an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?” You smirked, curiosity instantly replacing your melancholic inner thoughts.

“I hope you like it.” He kissed the back of your hand before opening the car door for you to enter.

The drive was calm, Heeseung eased your mind without even noticing he did. Just the smell of his cologne and his warm touches on your thigh whenever he stopped at a red light, and the habitual chatting that got you invested with ease worked perfectly to sooth you.

At some point Heeseung nonchalantly revealed he was applying to switch to work remotely, and you genuinely cheered since for the last few days he complained about the amount of hours he had to drive, and the home-office modality helped him to have more free time.

His own information faded out by himself in the following conversation as he changed topics, you barely noticed his sly expression whenever he glimpsed at your yapping figure, gesturing about how annoyed you felt when you had to do group work during your college.

“What’s that?” Your eyes sparkled with the colorful atmosphere you were approaching, your whole body perking up as you watched some stalls passing by the window as Heeseung searched for a place to park.

Heeseung chuckled, drifting his eyes between the road and you, but not answering your question.

Then the realization hits. You shot Heeseung with one of your bright smiles, that got him almost giggling just by seeing it.

“You’re insane.”

“I thought it could be a good place for you to learn some recipes.”

And just like that, you fell even harder for him.

Heeseung took you to a cozy outdoor market filled with food stalls, a few street foods trucks and local artisans. The atmosphere was lively, with music playing in the background and laughter echoing around you.

As you stepped out of the car with his help, the scents of diverse foods flooded your airways and you almost groaned with pleasure, your stomach growling with hunger as your mouth watered.

Heeseung held your hand the whole time you wandered from stall to stall, not even knowing where to start, but sampling everything from savory snacks to sweet treats, your senses dancing with the flavors and scents, doing some random love shots with Heeseung.

He didn’t complained a second about the constant walking. To watch you lose yourself while tasting things, making pleasant frowns and doing little dances whenever you liked something, paid back any sore he would have to deal with on the next day.

Some people recognized you, asking for a picture to which you politely declined, and Heeseung instantly gave you a confused look, since you usually made time to give them a little attention.

You searched for a free table for you both to sit, and as you stared at the three delicious small dishes in front of you not knowing which one to prove first, Heeseung spoke up.

“Isn’t that your favorite?” And then he pointed to the tteokbokki, after reading your indecisive frown, biting his own food. “Start with this one.”

You looked up at him with shock, then your gaze softened. It was Heeseung after all, the man who paid attention to every detail of you. However, your still pulse increased, your cheeks heating.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice broke the silence after a while again, and you nodded. “Is there a reason for you to refuse to take pictures with your fans today?”

The question sounded curious, genuine at it most, free from the weight of any judgments. Heeseung was trying to understand your decision rather than impose his opinion on it.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” you explained softly, wiping your mouth with a napkin.

He tilted his head to the side, brows furrowing. “How does that make me uncomfortable?”

You shrugged, taking a bite of your corn dog before answering. “I don’t know. People who hang out with me that aren’t from my area often don't feel comfortable whenever I stop to talk to my fans.”

Heeseung raised his eyebrows, a bit taken aback by the revelation. Of course people had their rights of being uncomfortable with certain situations, however, being friends with you meant knowing your personality and how much you enjoyed those small interactions. So it sounded a bit odd to hear you say that.

“Well, I don’t mind at all.” He said with a gentle smile. “Actually, it’s sweet to see you interacting with them.”

Your lips curved into a genuine smile at Heeseung’s reassuring words, especially because at some point he was a fan of yours, so to hear his mind on that conversation hit slightly deeper.

“Thanks, it means a lot.” You mumbled. “But if you ever feel awkwardly left out–

“No.” He shushed you with a portion of his food, shoving into your mouth with a playful laugh, making you roll your eyes and giggle.

The rest of the night went as comfortably as possible, filled with laughter and playful teasing moments. The thought of your departure on the next day haunted both of you, but you managed to brush away whenever your eyes met, the atmosphere softening again.

After you finished eating and drinking, Heeseung guided you to a quiet, secluded spot near the market. It was a small lake in the middle of a park, where a few other couples shared intimate affection as well.

Heeseung wrapped his arms around you from behind as you held on the railing overlooking the water. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his warm and soothing embrace caused a heavy sigh to escape your lips, and tears began to sting the corner of your eyes.

“You know, it's always good to come back home.” You murmured, voice tinged with nostalgia while you admired the peaceful view. Gently resting your back on Heeseung’s chest, you added. “And it's always bittersweet when I have to leave.” Your voice got stuck in your throat, heart pounding in uncertainty for your following days. “It became so much harder to leave now, Heeseung.” You admitted with a trembling voice, the tears quietly slipping down your cheeks

You felt Heeseung’s sweet lips touching your neck to place a gentle kiss before he turned you to face him. Kind hands caressing your face, cozy eyes eveloping your words with warmth and understanding. You felt loved. And it was hurting so much.

Heeseung cleaned your tears with his thumb, pressing soft kisses to your eyelids afterward.

“We can find a way,” he whispered, his own voice failing to stay steady. “I’m too attached to you at this point.” He admitted with a shy smile. “I know I said I’d make your days unforgettable, but now I’m the one who is unable to forget you. And I don’t want to even try forgetting you.”

A wave of relief rushed your body, happy for being on the same page, glad that Heeseung listened to you, overjoyed he shared similar feelings. You sobbed, snuggling closer to his body in order to feel him more, burying your face on his neck, the scent making you cry even harder.

Heeseung hugged you tightly, yet, gently, his arms involving you in a fond, safe bubble.

“I can visit you during my free time,” he said to reassure you.

“I’ll come to visit you too.” Your voice came out muffled due to your position, so you reluctantly pulled away from his embrace to search for his eyes. They were red, as if he was holding back his own tears. “I mean, I don’t live too far from here, the problem is my work–”

Heeseung silenced you by attaching his lips on yours, not wanting to hear your “but’s” and worries at the moment. He wanted to envision a good future for both of you, and also he was taking advantage to kiss you once more.

The shared touch was laced with an anticipated longing, slow and bittersweet, still full of affection. Your breath hitched while mingling with the soft sounds of contentment, hands exploring each other’s bodies, cherishing every inch before the inevitable departure of yours.

“I’m afraid you won’t get used to my work,” you whispered, relieving one of your biggest insecurities when Heeseung broke the contact to catch his breath.

“What do you mean?” He asked, slightly breathless, mind hazy from your kiss. God, he really wished you both managed a way to get back together, if not he would go insane without your sweet lips.

“It’s a demanding job, as you know.” You explained, playing with his ear lobe. Heeseung closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. “I’m always traveling, I’m always going to places, constantly on the move… Even visiting can be difficult.”

“I know,” he replied softly, still not exactly understanding your full point. Yes, he would miss you, but he was sure it could be managed.

Despite, from the start he knew you were a busy woman, barely having time to yourself as you told him a few times. And he was willing to adjust some things in his life if that meant having you by his side.

Heeseung didn’t said anything more, making you wonder. Would he back off after all of that? Or that meant he was fully devoted?

“And it doesn’t bother you?” You asked.

“No,” he replied sincerely, opening his eyes just to lock them onto yours, as he brushed a little strand of hair from your face before he cupped one of your cheeks. “It’ll not. If you promise you’ll always come back to me.”

And you would. After all, by the end of the day, all you could see was his eyes only.

Heeseung grew attached to watch you. Not only when owning the stage and captivating the audience with your talented acting skills, but in any other moment as well.

His eyes followed your every move, from the moment you frowned while waking up to the moment you fell on his arms, panting after him fucking you hard.

Yeah, you both managed ways of getting back together, with his now remote work, traveling around with you became easy. He missed his friends every once, and that led you both to constantly go back to Seoul and spend some days visiting, especially to see Jake and Sunoo, who freaked out when he discovered – through instagram! – his friends were dating one of his biggest inspirations.

Now, in your brand new purchased shared apartment, Heeseung eyes tracked you wetting your lips while humming the melody of your upcoming musical, while doing some work on your computer. It was a routine he definitely could get used to.

And as always, you felt the sweet weight of his gaze, smiling even before searching for him.

“What?” you asked, laughing at how Heeseung positioned himself beside you on the couch; his cheek resting on his hand, elbow propped on the armrest, as he shot you a lovestruck expression – soft smile and tender eyes.

“I love you.”

Months ago, those words would have taken you by surprise.

You remember vividly how flustered you became, heart racing, stuttering on your own words, unable to cohesively say anything back. Heeseung joked about how an amazing actress managed to lose composure and not talk like that, and after you slapped his shoulder playfully, you kissed him passionately, mumbling what could have been a ‘I love you too’.

This time it didn’t surprise you, still, left you momentarily speechless. You would never get used to the electrifying wave washing over your body whenever you heard Heeseung declaring his love for you.

Just like you always did, you felt the heat rising to your cheeks under his intense gaze. Closing your computer, you leaned closer, settling yourself comfortably on his lap.

“I love you too, Hee,” you replied softly and sincerely.

You smiled, before kissing him.

Heeseung’s embrace was your heaven. Heeseung’s lips were your hell. And in between that, he kept his eyes on you. Always.

#heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung fluff #heeseung fluff #heeseung fanfic #heeseung imagines #heeseung smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen fluff #heegyukeluv reqs #heegyukeluv works

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averyisnotpresent · 2 months ago

Text

LONG TIME COMING family-friend!pazzi au

𓇼 in which: azzi fudd has been counting down the days until her summer vacation begins and she gets to reunite with her best family-friends. but something feels different about this year. why are her quiet moments with paige so loud, and why does her stomach curl when they embrace like it never had before? (slightly TSITP inspired)

𓇼 warnings: swearing, sexual content (fingering- both receiving)

𓇼 wc: 8.8k

𓇼 avery's note: hi! this is my first time writing smut so i hope it's not too bad. some events in this story are kinda childish i guess you could say, but obviously i wasn't gonna make them minors so just ignore that! also imagine azzi's like 5 inches shorter than paige (it's for the plot😉) live react if you can! | my masterlist

The cool breeze combs through Azzi’s curly hair and the beaming sun lights up her tanned skin. The light illuminates the smile plastered onto her face, the one she’s been wearing this whole car ride. These summers were the things Azzi had been counting down the days until, getting more and more eager as the “days until” countdown she had on her phone got lesser and lesser.

She begins to pack up the things splayed around her as she passes the bright blue sign: “Silver Lake, MI”. The best memories Azzi can think of come from this place, on the beach, fruity drink in hand, but most of all, the people she spends it with - the Bueckers.

From the very first Silver Lake getaway, Azzi and Paige stuck like glue. Azzi might have only been 8 years old, but everyone surrounding them knew those two were inseparable, and would continue to be. 10 years later, Paige just finishing her freshman year of college and Azzi preparing to start hers, their bond was no different. The two girls had been texting nearly every day of the school year, not being able to contain their excitement until they got back to where they were happiest.

Azzi messily folds up the blanket she had been wrapped in and stuffs it in the backpack laying at her feet. The warm Michigan air floods Azzi’s skin when she rolls the window down further and breathes in the salty smell of home. She peels the navy hoodie she had been wearing over her neck, leaving her outfit to be made of jean shorts and a flowery tube top. Strings draw two lines from the hem of her tube top over her shoulders and back down: her pink bikini top peeking through.

Jon, Azzi’s young brother, elbows her in the side from the seat next to her: “Who you tryna’ impress, huh?”

“Nobody. This is just how I dress, weirdo.” Azzi shoots back, rolling her eyes and tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “It’s like 90 degrees. I just don’t wanna melt into a puddle the second I step outside.” Jon smacks his lips, giving Azzi an eye roll of his own before kicking the back of his dad’s seat.

Before Jon can even open his mouth, Tim lifts his hand, quieting Jon down before he can pester him. “Three minutes tops and we’ll be there. Bob just texted me saying he and everyone else got there a little bit ago.” Azzi and Jon both grin wider than they were before, excited to see their loved ones after much too long of a time apart.

The three minutes pass slowly, agonizingly even. Azzi unbuckles her seatbelt before Tim has even got close to the white house’ driveway and her door is open before he can even think about shifting into park.

Sitting on the porch is Paige, long blonde, slightly wavy, hair cascading down her pale back and lips curved into a smile just as big as Azzi’s. Blue swirly basketball shorts cover her legs and a plain white t-shirt hangs off her tall frame. Paige slams down the phone in her hand, letting it topple over to the ground when it flips off of the table she set it on, and runs over to Azzi.

Azzi chuckles a little under her breath, giggling at how funny Paige looks running over to her, but doesn’t seem to care much when Paige wraps her arms around her waist and embraces her in a tight hug. Paige rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder as her breath fans into Azzi’s ear. “Hey, Az.” Paige whispers, excitement filling her voice, but also some sort of relief. Like she couldn’t stand another minute being away from the curly head.

Azzi goes to greet Paige back, but before she can get any words out, Paige lifts Azzi up, spinning her around by her waist and watching as Azzi’s smile grows, despite her groans of protest and the look of annoyance in her eyes.

“I was about to say I missed you, but y’know what? I’m not so sure I do after that.” Azzi says, and while her voice has a tone of sass, Paige knows underneath it all she’s joking. Or at least she hopes so.

“I would argue back, but I’m actually a kind person and am happy to see you. I swear the school years seem longer every year.” Paige answers back, finally surrendering Azzi to the ground and letting her out of her grasp.

She takes this time to fully drink in the picture of Azzi. She looks about the same as last year, but she seems to be glowing in a way she never had before. She seems to carry a newfound confidence with her. Paige knows Azzi never would have worn something like this last summer, at least not anywhere where her brothers could see her, that is.

Azzi brings her head up from smoothing out a wrinkle in the flowered fabric and her dimples pop out as she smiles from Paige’s sentiment. “Maybe I missed you too, Bueckers. But only maybe.” Azzi admits, a purplish blush flushing her cheeks with her slight white lie.

“Hey, Paige!” Tim hollers from behind his family’s car, “You wanna give me a hand with these bags or what? Put those empty hands to work?”

“I gotchu.” Paige accepts, leaving Azzi in her flushed state to go grab a bag or two from the Fudd’s trunk. She daps Tim up before he pulls her into a hug.

“Good to see you kid.” Tim greets, used to being ignored during these trips for his daughter. Paige agrees, then hoists Azzi’s backpack from the backseat over her shoulder and grabs the matching duffel bag in her free hand, the other holding Katie, Azzi’s mother,'s beach bag.

Paige trudges forward with the bags weighing down her arms, Azzi shamelessly letting her eyes follow the Paige's flexed biceps. Her sleeves are slightly rolled after the straps of Azzi’s backpack moved them, and the slopes of her arm knot with every step.

“Did you wanna carry any of your things or am I your butler now?” Paige teases, already halfway into the house, Azzi following suit.

“Y’know what, I think I’m okay actually. Thanks for offering though.” Azzi jokes, letting Paige carry her things up to the room she designated hers a decade ago.

“Yeah alright, princess. Don’t be expecting me to do anything else like this.” Paige scoffs, and Azzi knows she’s rolling her eyes in front of her. Once Paige sets Azzi’s stuff down on her bed, leaving Katie’s beach bag at the top of the stairs, she grabs Azzi’s hand and tugs her right back down the stairs.

“That your suit on under there?” Paige confirms, earning a nod from Azzi as well as a knowing look. She does this every year.

Paige grabs two towels from atop the kitchen table downstairs and folds them over her shoulder. “We’re heading to the beach!” Paige calls up to her parents, she gets no response and just shrugs before grabbing Azzi again and rushing outside.

“Be safe!” Katie yells, still helping her sons get their things out of the car and trying to settle an argument between Jon and Jose over God knows what. Azzi rolls her eyes, annoyed with how protective her mom still is, but can’t be bothered for long.

Her and Paige start down the worn-grass path down to the beach, birds around them singing, like they’re just as happy as Paige and Azzi to be back.

“So,” Paige starts, “UCLA, huh? They’re lucky to have you.” Paige sounds a little bitter as she says the last part. She had been hoping Azzi would come to UConn with her, so they could finally see each other without having a year break in between. But Azzi was striving for somewhere with better academics. She had always been smart, and so had Paige, but never like Azzi.

Azzi got into UConn of course, but she knew she’d be doing herself a disservice if she went there. And thought it hurt Paige, she understood.

“I’m sorry, P. I wanted us to live out our little eight-year old dreams, but it just wasn’t gonna work.” Azzi admits. Her voice is sorrowful, like she truly means everything she’s saying.

“We’ve got all of summer. And when these summers stop, we’ve gotta promise we’ll still see each other.” Paige pleads. She knows she sounds immature, but that’s always what these summers are. She can be a kid again. She can be herself again. And she gets to be herself with Azzi.

“Agreed. Now stop being sentimental, we just got here!” Azzi scolds, punching Paige lightly on the shoulder without any malice behind it. Both girls smile at the contact and the grins stay put as they keep walking.

“So,” Azzi begins a new line of questioning. “How has college been? You finally find yourself someone special?” Paige has always been a fan-favorite everywhere she goes with… well, everyone. Guys and girls basically fall at her feet whenever she goes out in public and while Paige never complains or really turns them down, she never says yes either.

Paige has the kind of demeanor where you catch her eye from across the room and immediately are sucked in. She has the most genuine eyes, and if you see them once, they’re pretty hard to forget. She’s attractive, there’s no getting past that, but in a sort of mysterious way. Where you wonder why she doesn’t say yes to all the people offering themselves up to her. Not that Azzi’s been wondering or anything. ‘Cause she definitely hasn’t.

“Unfortunately I’ve been pretty busy with, you know, the academic part of college.” Paige laughs at Azzi’s question and slightly giggles while she answers. “A couple people tried, but no one stuck. What about you? I saw that guy you went to prom with on your Instagram. What’s up with him?”

Azzi scoffs out of what Paige interprets as disbelief, like she couldn’t believe Paige would even think that. “JD? He’s just a friend. One of his friends was going with Miranda, you know Miranda,” Paige nods along, “and I needed a date, so.” Azzi pauses, swallowing and breathing in for the first time since before she started her explanation. “End of story.”

Paige nods, not really having anything much else to add to the topic. “You look different this year, Az.” Paige admits after a few moments of silence. Not awkward though, it never is with them. At least before now.

“Different?” Azzi repeats, not sure if she heard Paige right. Paige nods and Azzi racks her brain for what she could mean. “Good different or bad different?”

“I dunno.” Paige starts to explain casually. “More - I don’t know - sure of yourself, I guess. Less shy.” Paige looks over at Azzi to see her facial expression which she can’t read. Paige has always prided herself with being perceptive, knowing how people are feeling, but she has no idea what Azzi’s thinking. To clarify, she speaks again, “Or maybe I’m making it all up. It’s been a while since last summer.”

Azzi knows what Paige is saying. She is different, I guess you could say, than last summer. Less scared. I mean, she’s an adult now. She can’t be scared to go to a party or wear a crop top anymore. Or maybe she can. But her friends from back home are very confident that she can’t.

“Azzi?” Paige breaks Azzi’s dissociation. “You in there?” Paige asks, waving a hand in front of Azzi’s wide, brown eyes. “I asked if you wanted to jump off the dock.”

Azzi blinks quickly a few times, bringing herself back to focus at the sound of Paige’s slightly raspy voice. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.” Azzi mumbles out, trying not to stumble over her own feet.

The two girls reach the beach, the sand hitting their feet and sticking to the bottoms of their sandals. “Race you to the dock?” Paige suggests, the little kid competitiveness she never grew out of shining through.

“Oh, you are so on.” Azzi challenges, counting down to three and sprinting like her life depends on it. Just like when they were little.

Some things never change.

Paige reaches the dock first, just like she’s been doing for the past ten years and Azzi groans as she arrives just a few seconds too late. “You’re like five inches taller, this is not fair!” Azzi complains, pouting like she did when she and Paige did this the first time.

As Azzi bends over and catches her breath, her hands falling to her knees and her breaths short and loud, and Paige watches her, hard. The way her chest rises and falls, and her teeny little bikini top poking through more and more with each breath. The way little sweat beads wet her forehead and collarbone before she quickly wipes them away.

But, before Paige can allow herself to get too wrapped up in the brunette, she places her large hands on either side of her shoulders and pushes her into the water.

Azzi lets out a squeal as she falls into the water, clothes on and all, her side hitting the water with a splat.

As she swims back up the surface she pushes a loose curl out of her eye and catches her breath from her unexpected entrance. She pulls a hand up from under the water and flings a big splash of water at Paige, soaking through her white shirt and getting in her eyes.

“Chill, I was gonna get in anyways.” Paige says as she strips her clothes, peeling off her now very wet shirt and dampened shorts. She’s wearing a black bikini, though it’s not as feminine as Azzi’s is. The top is cut with a straight line rather than Azzi’s triangle bikini, the two girls’ personalities showing out in their styles.

Azzi studies her as she strips, and thinks that maybe Paige is the one who seems different this year. She looks at Azzi like she’s never done before, and Azzi smiles wider than she ever had. A year is a long time I guess.

Time to change.

“Throw me your clothes, Az.” Paige offers, holding her arms out to catch Azzi’s drenched clothes. Azzi struggles to unbutton and slide down her shorts while she treads water, her legs being just barely too short to stand in the deep blue water.

Once Azzi’s left in her bikini she throws her clothes up to Paige, who catches both pieces with one hand like it’s nothing, balling them up and lying them next to her clothes.

“Watch out, princess.” Paige warns as she jumps into the cool water, cannonballing and drenching Azzi, if it’s even possible for her to get wetter than she already is.

“God, you’re so annoying, Paige.” Azzi says as she spits water out of her mouth, coughing slightly when Paige comes to the surface.

“Yeah, but you still love me.”

“Can’t seem to figure out why.”

☀︎༄.° two weeks later ☀︎༄.°

Azzi is scrolling on her phone in bed when a knock arrives at her door and she knows who it is even before the blonde strolls into her room.

Cooking book in hand, smug smile on her face, and hair pulled back into a low bun, Paige hangs in Azzi’s door frame, leaning against the wood like she wants something Azzi has.

“Can I… help you, Paige?” Azzi laughs, pressing her phone into her white comforter, shutting away Instagram and zoning into Paige.

“Can you help me bake? I was ‘sposed to make cookies for tonight but I might have burned them. Only like hypothetically, though.” Paige’s cheeks flush, slightly embarrassed with her cooking skills, even if she claims it’s not her fault.

“How do you even mess up cookies? Put the ingredients in, put them in the oven for like 8 minutes and you’re done. They’re like the simplest dessert.”

“Are you gonna gloat or actually help? ‘Cause I can make you eat burnt cookies if you want.”

Azzi pushes herself off her bed, pushing a few empty candy wrappers to the side and brushing off the invisible dust on her tank top. “I’ll help.” Azzi grudgingly agrees. “Only because I’m terrified for what you might make me eat.”

Azzi and Paige wind down the stairs of their beach home, finding their way to the kitchen with giggles and smiles shared between them along the way.

As they arrive, Azzi sees the tray of Paige’s first baking attempt, the ashes falling through the slots of the cooling dish and landing on the marble counter.

“Again, I pose the question: How do you even mess up cookies this badly?” Azzi laughs, not even trying to hide her disbelief with Paige’s… lack of talent, we’ll say.

“I think I forgot a couple things. Like y’know the eggs… and maybe the flour and baking soda.” Paige comes to the conclusion that she forgot at least half of the ingredients and left them in the oven for double the time they needed, but Azzi’s just grateful she didn’t burn the house down.

“Open up that book and find the recipe. Then you're gonna let me tell you what ingredients to get and I’m gonna double and triple check you actually got all of them.” Azzi orders, her voice stern but still partly playful.

“Yes, ma’am.” Paige smirks.

Azzi’s stomach churns. She doesn’t know why.

Paige flips through the old cooking book, its pages yellowed and filled with oily fingerprints from all of the times her and Azzi did this in years past. “We wanna do chocolate chip right?” Paige asks and Azzi nods her head to confirm.

“Alright, I got the page. Oven goes to 375.” Azzi walks over to the silver oven, making a tone out of the beeps as she punches in the numbers to preheat the oven.

Azzi walks back over, Paige’s eyes along with her, and steals the cooking book from Paige. “Go to the pantry and get both sugars, flour, baking soda and powder.” Azzi demands, Paige leaving her side to go get the ingredients.

Paige comes back with the containers balanced on various parts of her body, the large bags of flour held tightly in her oversized hands. Azzi’s watches as her fingers flex from the weight of the bags.

Her stomach continues to churn. Reason still unknown to Azzi.

Azzi’s leaned against one of the set of cabinets, reading the manual for what materials for Paige to get next. “We need vanilla extract and chocolate chips, too.”

Azzi, not realizing she’s in front of the cabinet that holds both of those things, continues to engross herself in the cooking book, mind forgetting Paige and the organization of their kitchen.

Paige, not finding it necessary to ask Azzi to move, reaches her hand over Azzi’s head, her hand meeting the cabinet handle with ease. Paige’s hands are now full with more cooking supplies as she comes down, and Azzi, who still hasn’t realized the precarious position they’re in, is stagnant in her position from earlier.

Paige begins to tip off balance, leaning away from Azzi as to not hit her, but out of sorts from the way she’s leaning. As she starts to slip she quickly lets the bag of chocolate chips drop the counter to free up one of her hands, which falls to Azzi’s bare waist for stability.

“Thanks for moving, princess. Almost knocked me over.” Paige thanks sarcastically, her hand still wrapped around Azzi’s hip bone, her cool hand heating up at the contact with Azzi’s warm skin.

Azzi looks up from her book finally, her eyes first finding Paige’s bright blue eyes, then her pale hand on her, then up to her eyes again. Paige looks deep into Azzi’s brown eyes, staring with some sort of uncertainty and nervousness. Her hand shakes ever so slightly, so minimally that Azzi barely even notices it, goosebumps forming under Paige’s calloused palms.

Neither girl moves, cooking book still in Azzi’s arms, vanilla in Paige’s free hand, slight perplexed smile on both girls' faces. Paige breathes in, her grip on Azzi tightening as she does, not in a harsh way, just like she wants to be closer.

Paige is the first to break the silence: “You’re so pretty, Az. You know that?”

Azzi breathes out shakily, her and Paige’s trance broken and suddenly the silence between them is loud. Uncomfortable.

She can hear the air conditioner purring, the fridge buzzing, her parents talking faintly with Paige’s on the porch on the opposite side of the home.

Azzi’s the first to pull away, Paige’s hand falling to the counter, the contact making a loud ‘slap’ noise as its descent finishes.

“Did you get the stuff?” Azzi asks, ignoring Paige’s compliment and focusing back in on the task at hand.

“Yeah.” Paige says slowly and softly. Her voice has a slight tone of surprise, like she was expecting Azzi to say something different. Or maybe less expecting and more so hoping. “Yeah I got ‘em.”

☀︎༄.° three weeks later ☀︎༄.°

Azzi was shoving a few of her clothes and as many blankets as she could find into her duffel bag as the sky began to turn from a light blue to a deeper navy. The birds were loud, the sun was hot, and the bugs were buzzing, but she didn’t care.

This was always the best part of summer.

One night a summer, the Bueckers and Fudds slept under the stars, sometimes in tents if it was raining, but no matter what: the last day of the vacation, this was their tradition.

The kids played a game of flag football that grew much too competitive much too quickly and the adults played cornhole and sipped on their beers.

Tim and Bob self identify themselves as chefs, and cook every typical barbecue food you could think of, and nothing more than a grain is ever left over.

The beach house sat atop a hill, the backyard stretching at least three acres, with a clear path down to the beach that was just their own, until their younger neighbors tried to sneak in occasionally.

Azzi loved the privacy: loved feeling like she had a place that was just her own, and her family’s of course.

As Azzi finished packing in an extra pair of socks, Paige walked in through the open door, her navy backpack slung over her newly tanned shoulder.

Paige’s bright red, burned skin finally turned to a tan, her pale skin never tanning easily. Like clockwork, Paige gets a near third degree burn halfway through the summer when she’s decided “sunscreen isn’t for her” and everyone else groans, knowing they’re in for at least a week of her complaining after.

“Do you know if it’s supposed to rain tonight? Your dad was asking if we should grab the tents.”

Azzi shook her head, knowing her weather app told her there was a 0% chance from when she checked earlier. “Just bring our sleeping bags from the laundry room. I’ll be out in a second.”

Paige nods, leaving Azzi to zip up her bag and turn off her lights. The kids made a rule years ago, much too outdated at this point to still be following, that they couldn’t bring phones, and once outside, they couldn’t go back in. Hence, sleeping in a gross tent rather than in their warm, more importantly, roofed, beds.

The families piled in outside, throwing their bags and blankets to the couches on the back porch and leaving to go set up the games. Azzi shook the can of washable spray paint in her hand, drawing poor wavy lines in the grass to make a makeshift field with a halfway line and some uneven end zones.

The teams had been the same as long as Azzi could remember, and once Drew, Paige’s much younger brother, was born, he just joined in with Paige, not really being old enough to contribute anyways.

Azzi played a quick game of rock-paper-scissors with Jose, the boy winning the game and awarding himself the position on offense. He stood behind Jon, who held the football in his hands, bent over and ready to throw.

Jon threw the ball to Jose, who caught it with ease. Jon ran out into the field waiting for Jose to pass it back, Paige sticking to him like glue, her tall figure towering over his. Azzi instructed Drew to count to five and then run over to Jose and pull his flag.

Drew counted softly, Azzi holding him in place as he counted to five in less than two seconds. “You little cheater.” Azzi teased before letting him go after a real count of five.

Drew chased after Jose, trying to pull at his red flag. Jose managed to pull himself away from Drew, throwing a rushed pass to Jon near the halfcourt line. Jon threw himself forwards in an attempt to catch the pass, pushing Paige over with him and both of them toppling to the ground.

They both fell to the hard dirt with a bit of a groan, the grass not very forgiving after it’d been run around on and mowed so many times. Azzi rushed over to Paige, Jon already being helped up by Drew. Paige sat up slowly, lifting her shirt up at the hem to see if a bruise was forming.

Azzi watched intently at the reveal of skin, irritated but not purpled yet. Azzi saw a flash of Paige’s soft ab lines, the ones that had seemed to distract her all summer long. Azzi offered her hand out to Paige, the older girl accepting with a slight grimace.

She stood up with ease to Azzi’s relief, and let her shirt fall out of her grasp as she did. “Don’t worry, Az. I’m good.” Paige responded before Azzi could even ask, seeing a look of worry painted across her face.

“Second down!”

The girls, finally out of breath and sweating, too tired to keep going in their football game, take to the porch where their dads are calling out frantically that dinner is ready and that they have to “rush over before their burgers burn.”

Jon and Jose sprint over, pushing each other as they do so, trying to get first pick for their dinner. Azzi and Paige take their time, Paige’s arm casually swung over Azzi’s shoulder, giggling in her ear about how badly they beat Azzi’s brothers.

They both grab their paper plates, filling them up with various dishes: corn, mac and cheese, hot dogs - the barbecue basics.

As they take their seats, the girls waste no time before digging into their meals, Azzi messily biting into her ketchup drenched hamburger. As she pulls her food away from her mouth, a swatch of ketchup stays on the corner of her lip, accentuated even more when she looks over to Paige who’s laughing at her.

“What are you laughing for, weirdo?” Azzi teases, slapping Paige on the bicep playfully.

Paige, not seeing a need for explanation, leans in closer to Azzi, her hand finding the crook of Azzi’s neck and her thumb caressing the corner of her plump lips.

Her thumb swipes the ketchup out of the slit, before bringing it to her own mouth and licking it off.

“Ew!” Azzi exclaims. “Paige, that’s disgusting.” She continues to complain. “You are such a child, my God.”

Paige just chuckles, her stomach beginning to hurt from laughing for so long. “Shut it, princess.”

Eventually the night slows down, the clear sky starting to form bright stars and the families setting up for bed. People’s t-shirts were replaced with hoodies, for the most part, which all had “Silver Lake” plastered across the chest or the sleeve, another one of their traditions.

“Paige, will you throw me my sleeping bag?” Azzi asks as she throws her curly locs into a bun above her head. She forgot to pack her bonnet, so a simple high bun will have to do.

Azzi watches as Paige pushes through the pile of sleeping bags, looking for the ones she brought for herself and Azzi, however she comes back up with a guilty and embarrassed face.

“I… may have grabbed the big sleeping bag and thought I grabbed two.” Paige scratches her head, holding up the queen sized sleeping bag and pointing to the otherwise bare couch cushions, all the other sleeping bags already claimed.

“Whatever, it’s fine. Jon is totally gonna kill me if I go back inside to get it.” Azzi sighs. “I swear, Bueckers,” Azzi points, but Paige cuts her off before she can continue.

“One of these days I’m gonna kill you. Yeah I know.” Paige rolls her eyes having heard that phrase spoken by Azzi a few times more than one.

Paige and Azzi drag their sleeping bag out to the top of the hill, near the path to the beach, like they’d always done. Paige takes off her t-shirt, crawling into the sleeping bag in just her shorts and sports bra.

She catches Azzi watching her, her eyes not watching her face but her figure and how it moves. “You good over there, Az?” Paige asks, trying to swallow back the smile that is tempting to form on her face.

“Just get in the bag, Bueckers.”

Paige obliges and Azzi follows, doing the same. Azzi lies facing the opposite direction of Paige, their backs grazing but not pressing against each other.

“Good night, Az.”

“Night, P.”

It’s silent outside, all animals have gone to bed, even the annoying hummingbirds that always seem to want to bother Azzi while she sleeps. Jon and Jose are fast asleep, as are Paige and Azzi’s parents. The stars still shine and they seem to be the only thing awake at this ungodly hour.

Oh, and Paige along with them.

She stirs in her sleeping bag, not wanting to move too much as to wake Azzi up, but unable to find a comfortable position.

Around two hours have passed, it’s probably a little past one in the morning and Paige has officially given up. Sitting up in her sleeping bag and pushing her pillow behind her, to the back of the tent, she breathes in loudly.

No movement from Azzi.

Paige clicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth, trying to be obnoxiously loud.

Still, Azzi sleeps silently.

Paige leans down to Azzi’s shoulder, blowing on the crevice between her neck and jaw, hoping the breath of air will jolt the curly head away.

Still, nothing.

Paige rolls her eyes and gives in, tapping Azzi on the shoulder and watching as her eyes flutter open, turning towards the blonde.

“What the fuck, Paige.” Azzi groans, rubbing her eyes open and sitting up, knowing she’s now gonna be unable to fall back asleep.

“I can’t sleep.” Paige explains, not making eye contact with Azzi and fidgeting with her fingers.

“Tough luck. Go on a walk or something.” Azzi complains, annoyed with Paige for taking away her precious sleep.

“Let’s go to the beach.” Paige blurts, watching as Azzi turns to her with an annoyed look.

“No way, Paige. My mom would kill me. It’s also, not sure if you’ve realized or not… but the middle of the god damn night.”

“C’mon Azzi, it won’t kill you. Let’s have some fun. It’s our last night together for a while.”

Azzi stirs in her position, contemplating if she’s actually going to agree to this or not. She knows she’s not gonna be getting back to sleep anytime soon, but it’s also basically the witching hour and though she won’t admit it to anyone, Azzi never really got over her fear of the dark.

Azzi knows Paige does have a point. She probably won’t see her until at least winter break, minimum, after this and she doesn’t really want them arguing about who gets to go back to sleep to be their parting memory.

“Alright, fine. But we’re coming back quickly and going so quietly that we won’t even wake up a fly.”

Paige nods, already agreeing in the silent part that Azzi wants her to oblige to and starts to stand up. She pushes her sandals over her feet and throws Azzi her flip flops from beside her hoodie.

The two girls tip toe out of bed, sneaking past their families and suddenly very grateful they chose to put their sleeping bags so close to the beach path. They start down the trail, not saying much until they’re excessively far away from the house and their families.

“What are you thinking about?” Azzi ponders aloud, reading through Paige easily. She’s still whispering, though she’s not sure who she’s trying to stay quiet for.

“How do you know I’m thinking about something?” Paige challenges back.

“‘Cause it’s the only time you can’t sleep. Otherwise you’d be keeping me awake with your snoring.”

“I do not snore!”

“Oh, yes you most certainly do.” Azzi giggles, recalling the annoying, yet somehow fond, memories of Paige keeping her awake and forcing her to go sleep in a different room with the soft sound of her snores.

“Whatever. I wasn't thinking about anything. Just couldn't sleep, ‘dunno why.”

“Liar. But I'm not pushing because I’m still barely awake.”

At this point, the girls are walking on the beach, sand curling between their toes as Paige directs them forwards towards the ocean rather than turning so they can walk further in the sand.

“Paige Madison, we are not swimming in this lake right now.” Azzi looks over to Paige, abandoning her whispers and talking, more like scolding, at a normal level.

“C’mon princess, lighten up a little bit. We used to do it all the time.”

“Swim at night?” Paige nods. “Uh huh. Usually while the time has a PM after it, though.” Azzi fights back stubbornly, still not wanting to allow herself to give in.

“Neither of us even have suits on.”

Paige plasters a knowing look on her face and Azzi immediately allows her lips to draw a face of fear. “No way. I’m not going skinny dipping right now. This has not gone well in any horror movie and I don't want a true crime documentary made after us.”

“Alright, well I’m getting in. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Paige pauses as her and Azzi get further and further onto the dock. “But, please don’t make me swim by myself.”

Paige pouts, jutting out her bottom lip and tilting her head slightly at Azzi. Even in the dark, dimly lit sky, Azzi can see the sparkle in her bright blue eyes and can feel herself giving in bit by bit.

Azzi sighs, dropping her shoulders in silent agreement and beginning to strip her clothes. She watches as Paige rids herself of her clothes first. First her basketball shorts, then her sports bra, and finally her boxers. Azzi watches with intent, sucked into the vortex that is Paige Bueckers.

Azzi follows in the undressing task, going slowly while Paige climbs down the ladder and into the water that’s only gotten warmer along with the summer air. Azzi strips herself of her athletic shorts and underwear, then her maroon hoodie, and finally her teal bra.

Paige has to stop herself from letting her jaw drop as she watches Azzi unclasp the bright colored bra. It pairs so well with her dark, tanned skin, and Paige can’t help but find herself glad Azzi can’t see her expression.

Once Paige is off the ladder and Azzi is bare, the brunette starts her own descent down the ladder, climbing down slowly, inadvertently teasing an already flustered Paige.

Azzi suddenly has a realization that she should have had before she agreed to get into the water, or when she undressed, or even before she submerged herself in the deep water.

She can’t stand here. Her feet touch the sandy ocean floor and the water sucks in her mouth and nose along with it, her eyes and forehead barely protruding through the water’s surface.

“I can’t stand, Paige.” Azzi groans as she swims her body back to the ladder, beginning to tread water along the way. “I’m getting out. We’re going back.”

“No way, we just got here. I’m not walking half a mile back after not even being in here for a minute.”

“Alright, well that’s great for you, but I’m not treading water for half an hour, so you can walk back on your own.” Azzi’s already begun to start climbing back up the ladder when Paige blurts it out.

“Just c’mere.”

Azzi turns around while on the ladder, half of her body freezing in the cool air and the other half still covered by the water. “Excuse me?”

“Swim over here. I’ll hold you.”

A look of bewilderment and disbelief is painted on Azzi’s face because… what?

“Are you crazy? I don’t have a bathing suit on, Paige! That’s weird, even for us.” Azzi adds the last part, knowing that even for a decade-long friendship, that’s a bit much.

“How long have we known each other Az? Ten years. It’s nothing I haven't seen before. I promise. Just let me have a good last swim here. Preferably not alone.”

Azzi’s never been able to say no to her. Never in their ten years has she ever learned how to not give in to Paige, how to look away from her warm eyes and decline whatever ridiculous thing she wants from her.

Azzi, sighing once more, climbing back down the ladder and swimming over to Paige, her curly bun fallen down her back, hair tie sunk underneath the water, never to be seen again.

Azzi wraps her arms around Paige’s shoulders, her fingers intertwining at the nape of Paige’s neck, bumping the bottom of her low, messy bun.

Paige brushes the bare skin of Azzi’s thigh, wrapping one leg around her waist, Azzi bringing the other to match by herself.

They both know this is weird. They both know this isn’t something friends do. But neither of them are moving. And neither of them seem to be disgusted with the other.

Paige tries to ignore the fact that she can feel Azzi’s clit against the skin below her navel.

Paige tries to ignore the fact that she can feel Azzi’s nipples, hardened from the cool air, palming her own chest.

Paige tries to keep her eyes locked on Azzi’s, and Azzi tries to do the same, but both girls are failing miserably, their eye contact growing weighted and heavy.

They just stand there for a few minutes, Azzi wrapped around Paige with care and Paige holding her up with ease. They both study the night sky, the stars rendering a beautiful picture above their heads.

It seems impossible, but the girls seemed to have grown closer than before Paige first picked up Azzi. Azzi seems to be more pressed into Paige’s stomach, and Paige’s hands have seemed to travel closer to Azzi’s ass from their former placement on her thighs.

Azzi meets Paige’s eyes, this time firmly locked on hers, and they both just stare. They have the same expression mirrored on either side of each other, salacious and hungry, yet also fearful. Both girls seem to shake a little with each breath before Paige finally speaks.

At a whisper so low that Azzi can barely make out the words, Paige breathes out, “Can I kiss you?”

Azzi just looks deeper into Paige’s eyes, trying to stop herself from letting her eyes flicker down to Paige’s lips. But she can’t.

Like she physically can’t.

So she leans in, pulling Paige’s head closer to her with the hand around her neck, and slots their lips together. Paige tastes faintly of salt and vanilla, probably from the chapstick she’s always applying and Azzi can’t get enough of it.

Azzi kisses her like she’s starved and Paige kisses her back just the same. They breathe into each other, chests pressing further and further into each other as they do so, voracious and needy.

Their senses are heightened from their bare states, no skin of Azzi’s left untouched as Paige’s hands begin to wander around Azzi’s shaky body.

The two girls only pull away occasionally to catch their breaths, like they can’t take a second away from each other’s lips.

Paige is infatuated with the way Azzi tastes: better than she ever could have imagined.

Paige slips her left hand out from under Azzi’s thigh, catching the little drop with her right forearm, which is now laid out under Azzi’s ass.

Paige’s left hand slides up between their chests, palming one of Azzi’s breasts, earning her a quiet whimper from the curly head. Its noise is swallowed by Paige’s mouth, but all that does is urge Paige on more.

Her hand continues to graze across Azzi’s body, pinching her nipples, and Paige grows more and more hungry with each soft moan from Azzi’s mouth. Paige is in utter disbelief with how pretty Azzi sounds and she can’t imagine she’s gone so long without being serenaded by its sound.

Paige’s kisses begin to trail down Azzi’s jaw and quickly find her neck, Azzi mindlessly tilting her head so Paige has more area to work. Paige’s tongue touches every inch of Azzi’s neck, trying to find the places to suck on that make Azzi go mad, and trying to memorize them for later.

Without even realizing she’s doing it, Azzi begins to slightly push herself onto Paige’s stomach, trying to give herself some relief against the ridges of Paige’s abs.

Paige quickly realizes what Azzi is doing and is grateful to see that she seems just as needy as Paige is right now.

At the same time Paige finds a particularly sensitive spot towards Azzi’s collarbone, Azzi catches her clit on just the right part of Paige’s stomach and she lets out a loud moan as Paige sucks the skin and lets it go with a ‘pop’.

“Do you need me, Azzi?” Paige whispers against Azzi’s neck.

Azzi nods promptly, forgetting about embarrassing herself and being consumed by the need pulsing inside her.

Azzi feels Paige smirk against her neck as she kisses back up from her neck to her lips and continues to play with her chest.

Paige positions her right arm, the one that’s balancing and holding Azzi up, so that she can reach where Azzi needs her the most.

Paige wastes no time, beginning to draw slow, tantalizing circles over Azzi’s clit, and Azzi begins to melt like putty into Paige’s hands. She can’t silence the pathetic noises that are coming out of her mouth and she can’t help her want for more.

She presses herself further down into the pads of Paige’s fingers, wanting, scratch that, needing more pressure from the blonde.

“Fuck Paige-” Azzi murmurs out, her words coming out jumbled and broken up, Paige removing her ability to form coherent words.

Paige shifts her hand down from Azzi’s clit to the bottom of her lips, her finger splitting them open and taking a dive into the wetness.

Azzi’s slick mixes with the lake water around them and while water surrounds them, Paige knows the slick her fingers are feeling is not that kind of wetness.

“Holy shit-” Paige murmurs, in disbelief with Azzi and herself for how wet she is. “You this soaked or is it the lake?” Paige asks, though she already knows the answer.

“Jesus-” Azzi whimpers out, unable to breathe properly. “It’s for you, P.” Azzi admits, squirming under Paige’s touch, desperate for any kind of contact from the blonde.

“For me, huh?” Paige gloats, never missing a chance to feed her own ego. Paige traces her finger around Azzi’s wetness, gathering it with her fingers and dragging it along her center.

Azzi twitches as Paige drags the slick up to her clit and presses deep on either side of the sensitive bud. “Paige… fuck- just-” Azzi tries, she really tries to get her words out, but she chokes on her own moans and can’t take the throbbing much longer.

“What do you need, princess?” Paige taunts, her movements getting slower and softer, her kisses still peppering down Azzi’s neck.

“You.” Azzi manages, chasing Paige’s fingers as they move slowly, trying to press herself down harshly.

“You already have me.” Paige smiles against Azzi’s skin, knowing that’s not what she meant.

Before Azzi can open her mouth to clarify more or to protest, Paige shoves her fingers inside Azzi’s center, pumping them in and out slowly to start, but gaining more urgency as she goes for longer.

The harsher she presses down, the louder Azzi is for her, and Paige has never been so turned on in her life. Azzi is a jumbled mess. The only words she can get out are broken swears and “please”, though she doesn’t even know what she’s asking for.

“Paige-” Azzi pleads out, grinding down on Paige’s fingers as she strives for the release she’s hungry for. “My god.”

“Say my name again, Az. Say it again for me.” Paige asks, though she’s not really asking, more so demanding.

Azzi obliges and lets out another string of curses as well as a moan that Paige makes out to have her name written underneath the breathy sounds.

“You’re-” Azzi pauses to swallow and tries to breathe. “Fuck, you feel so good, P.” At this point, Azzi’s nearly blacked out. She barely knows what she’s saying, just mumbling out whatever comes to her brain and letting herself be handled by Paige.

“You’re doing so good, Azzi. So good for me.” Paige whispers into Azzi’s ear, the sensual tone making Azzi more needy and starved for Paige’s touch.

A few more minutes pass, and Azzi can’t stay like this forever. Her movements have become completely broken up and she’s a mess. Her hair is flipped over to one side, and Paige is still moving with the same urgency.

Her head is thrown back and Paige is still attacking her neck, leaving marks she’s sure will still be there in the morning.

“I can’t… last much longer, P.” Azzi groans out, her words so broken that Paige can barely understand what she’s trying to say.

“It’s okay, Az. Let go for me. Let me feel you.” Paige slows her words at the last part, trying to make herself sound more sensual and less nervous than she really is.

With that, Azzi taps out, leaning into Paige as she collapses, Paige’s movements not slowing until Azzi’s fully come down.

Even under the water, Paige can feel the shaking of Azzi’s legs, and with Azzi leaning right into her ear, the pretty sounds she’s making are louder than ever.

Paige feels herself growing wetter with every moan from Azzi and every whisper of her name.

“Oh my god… fuck-” Azzi moans out with her climax, too spent to be ashamed of how loud she is at this point.

Paige works her through it, her fingers still pumping, harder than ever, as Azzi continues to shake and press into her shoulder.

Eventually, Paige’s movements slow and she slowly pulls her fingers out of Azzi. Her hands return to their previous position on either side of Azzi’s thighs, a much more stable way to hold her, as she leans in for a kiss to her lips.

This time it’s slower, less rushed. Less hungry and needy. But there’s still a hint of that underneath: Paige now desperate for a relief of her own.

They kiss slowly for a few moments, Azzi catching her breath against Paige’s lips and readjusting to the silence she created with the halt of her whimpers.

After a while of their chaste kisses, they heat back up again, this time Azzi initiating the harshness of it all. She starts to explore Paige’s mouth like it’s a piece of art she’s trying to memorize and store for later, and Paige just lets it happen.

She lets Azzi control what’s happening, hoping if she lets this happen, she’ll get the same release Azzi did.

But Azzi’s not as quick moving as Paige, she likes to take her time getting to know Paige deeper. Her lips tattoo the skin of Paige’s neck and chest and Paige groans, partially out of pleasure, and partially out of frustration with Azzi’s pace.

Not being able to take it anymore, Paige tightly grips Azzi’s hand from behind her neck and slides it down her stomach. Azzi traces Paige’s abs along the way before she gets down to Paige’s wetness, and even then, she goes painfully slow.

She immediately inserts a finger inside Paige, but the one isn’t enough, and she’s going so slow that Paige barely feels anything except a little pressure.

“You’re killing me, Az.” Paige complains, though the whimper at the end of her sentence tells Azzi that annoyance isn’t the only thing in her tone. “You’ve gotta let me feel good.” Paige pleads.

“But I am making you feel good.” Azzi whispers innocently, tilting her head with a bit of a mischievous grin. “Patience, P.”

Patience is something Paige has never had, and now is definitely not the time she’s going to acquire it. She takes a hand out from under Azzi and reaches it down to her own clit, circling it with urgency and finally getting some relief: the kind Azzi’s refusing her of.

Azzi quickly notices and pushes Paige’s hand away, much to Paige’s chagrin. “That bad, really?” Azzi teases. “Fine.”

Azzi shrugs before pounding three of her fingers into Paige, the inside of her wrist palming Paige’s clit as she does so.

Paige is so worked up that she barely lasts two minutes of this, her body surrendering to Azzi quickly.

“Fuck.. Azzi…” Azzi cuts Paige’s babble off with a kiss. She can already tell Paige is about to unravel for her.

Azzi swallows the moans that pour out of Paige’s mouth, smiling as she does so. She finally slows her fingers when Paige seems to stop her shaking and calm down slightly.

Azzi can’t believe Paige managed to hold both of them up while doing that, and she sits back for a moment before realizing that she can’t believe what just happened as a whole.

As Paige finally comes back to Earth, she seems to have the same realization as Azzi. Both of them looking at each other with concerned looks on their faces.

“I- I’m sorry.” Paige is the first to speak. “I wasn’t trying to… do this when I woke you up. I promise.” Azzi can tell the statement is genuine, and she knows Paige too well to think that’s something she would do.

“Don’t apologize.” Azzi breathes out, Paige sighing a sigh of relief at her response.

It’s silent again, Paige still holding them up as they look into each other’s eyes, trying to get a sense of what just happened.

“Did that mean something, P?” Azzi questions, asking what she knew Paige was wondering too.

Paige sucks in a deep breath of the cool air before answering with a look of sincerity. “Yeah. I ’dunno, Azzi. I’ve been tryna’ read you all summer.”

“I love you.” Azzi blurts out and though the girls have been saying that for years, it carries a different weight now. And Paige knows that. She can tell in the way Azzi refuses to meet her gaze after she says it.

Paige pulls Azzi into another slow kiss, this one pure and wholesome in a way their others weren’t. “I lov-” Paige starts but Azzi quickly interrupts.

“I knew. I know.”

A beat of playful silence waves over the two girls. Paige joking rolls her eyes, accompanied with a large smile as she lets go of Azzi and swims closer to the ladder slowly. Azzi peels herself away from Paige's hips and follows behind, both of their legs sore, lips swollen, and necks bruised with kisses.

After Paige and Azzi have dried themselves off as best as they could without towels, Paige circles back. “You knew? And you made me wait all summer for you to say something?”

Azzi grins a little while nodding, chuckling at herself as she does so.

“You are so fucking infuriating.” Paige crosses her arms jokingly.

“Am I? Do you remember the lake about three minutes ago or?”

“Oh, I could say the exact same for you, Azzi.” Paige challenges back.

Paige stumbles over something rough at her feet, a pile of towels someone had left on the beach from the day prior. She leans down to pick two of them up and hands one to the girl beside her.

Ignoring their theft, they wrap their bodies in the stolen towels and Paige reaches down to grab Azzi’s hand.

They walk back to their families and sleeping bags with wide grins and fingers intertwined, the moon smiling down at them as they walk.

Long time coming.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics #pazzi fanfiction #pazzi smut #uconn wbb #wbb #wnba #dallas wings

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the-thing-inside-your-closet · 1 year ago

Text

Danny and Ellie are forced to flee Amity Park. And find themselves in Coast City.

I started writing this with the intention of only writing a short prompt, but then I just kept going until I felt like I’d written enough.

Danny gets caught up in yet another fight with Skulker, only this time it wasn’t because Skulker had come for Danny. No. He’d come for Ellie. And she was already weak from fleeing the GIW who had shot at her the moment she arrived in Amity Park.

Whether Skulker is after Ellie for Vlad, or because he wants her pelt can be up to you.

Either way, he manages to beat Skulker and captures him in the thermos. Just as he lets out a long sigh of relief he hears the sound of an ecto-gun being fired and then his side is burning and he’s falling. He’s falling too fast and it hurts and he can’t stop-

Danny guys the ground hard. His head is spinning, his skin feels like it’s burning, and he can hear the stomping of feet as someone runs towards him.

He needs to get up. He needs to get away. Find Ellie and make sure she’s safe. He’s needs to MOVE- but he can’t. Black spots for his vision as he manages to stand up and his eyes meet the end of his mother’s gun.

Before anyone can speak, he’s falling again, handing face first in the dirt. And the familiar feeling of de-transforming washes over him.

The last thing he hears before loosing consciousness is the grief stricken sound of his parent’s voice as three voices shout in unison.

“OH MY GOD DANNY!”

“DANNY ARE YOU OKAY?!”

“NO, GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

When Danny wakes up again, he’s in his room, the curtains are drawn but he can see the sliver of sunlight pouring in through the gap underneath. He notes that his body aches, but not as much as usual after a fight like that. And there’s a warmth enveloping his hand. It’s soothing, and he almost considers going back to sleep when he notices that there’s a ghost in the room. And all too fast he’s sitting up and staring into the exhausted, red, puffy eyes of his mother looking back at him from where she’s sitting holding his hand in hers.

Just behind her he sees Ellie floating just above the ground talking quietly with his dad.

“Danny,” his mother’s voice draws his attention along with Jack and Ellie’s. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? Are you in any pain?”

He didn’t notice when she’d helped him to lay back down again. “Do you need anything? Ellie here was just telling us about how regular pain medication doesn’t work as well for the two of you. But I’m sure we could find something for you that might-”

“Mom,” Danny rasps. Man his throat was dry.

As if reading him mind Ellie appears by his mother’s side holding out a glass of water with a straw in it. Maddie helps Danny to sit up a little more so he can drink.

“Mom,” he tries again, sounding better this time, “I’m okay. I promise. It’s not that bad!” He starts to lie as the panic sets in. He de-transformed in front of them. He knows he did. And the fear shows on his face, it must, because before he can even begin trying to think up an excuse his mother is crying.

“Oh Danny, it’s okay. We know. And we’re not angry at you. We love you. So much.”

And Danny’s heart swells at hearing it. “You don’t hate me for being Phantom?” He asks quietly.

“No! We could never hate you Dann-o!” His dad’s cheery tone doesn’t disguise the sadness and guilt etched into his face. “We’re just…so sorry that we never noticed before. And that we…” he can’t finish his sentence but he doesn’t need to. Danny already knows what he’s apologise for.

“I’m okay. I promise. I heal fast!” Danny tied to reassure them.

It seems to help a little, though his parents still have a grim look in their eyes. As they make connections in just how Danny would know that about himself.

And Ellie, with perfect timing to cut the tension, announces happily, “Danny! Good news! Your parents said I could stay with you!”

Ellie had told his parents while Danny was unconscious about being his clone. She saw how they fretted over Danny, cleaning and dressing his injuries with the love and care she only imagined from a parent that truly loves you. And they had accepted her almost right away. Jack even crying as he proudly declared himself a father of three.

Jack soon excused himself, saying he’ll go see if Jazz needs any help with cooking lunch. Danny and his mother share a look, and with a final kiss to his head says she’ll go make sure nothing gets brought back to life. And she asks Ellie to please make sure Danny stays in bed and rests.

Danny and Ellie are left alone in his room, and it gives Danny the chance to really revel in everything. His parents accept him. They love him, both sides of him. And they accepted Ellie too! And said she can stay! She doesn’t have to be alone anymore.

Now, a lot can happen in the span of a few seconds, let alone minutes. In the time it took for Maddie to reach the kitchen, their front door was kicked down and a group of GIW agents had stormed in demanding they hand over the ectoplasmic scum they were harbouring.

Jack and Maddie drew their weapons and planted themselves directly in front of the GIW agents. The agents state that a ghost shield was put up around the house to prevent any ghosts from escaping, and by law any ghosts within the premises were ti be handed over for destruction immediately. Jazz runs upstairs to Danny’s room to warn them that the GIW were inside the house and that they needed to run. They need to get to the portal NOW.

With all the authority of an older sister Jazz tells Ellie to grab the go bag Danny had insisted on having prepared, and picks Danny up despite his protests that he could walk. Or well, fly. Ellie turns them all invisible and intangible and takes them down to the lab.

They can hear the sound of shouting, and something breaking and a gun being fired all coming from upstairs as Jazz opens the portal for Danny and Ellie.

Another shot rings out. And then another, and more shouting.

“Quickly you two need to go!”

Another shot.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Danny, now Phantom, asks suddenly as he and Ellie are preparing to enter the Ghost Zone.

Two more shots.

“Someone needs to be here to deactivate the portal in case the guys in white make it down here. I’ll be fine. Mom and dad will be okay, they’re not here for us so you two need to go. Now!” There’s banging on the lab’s door and Jazz shoves both Danny and Ellie into the portal. The last thing Danny hears before the portal closes behind them is another shot being fired.

Danny is scared and angry as he and Ellie are forced to fly through the zone with no currently known way to get back to his family. He needs to make sure they’re okay. He needs to protect them.

But right now Danny is still hurt, and he needs to get himself and Ellie somewhere safe. They begin to slowly make their way through the zone, looking for somewhere to rest and avoiding any ghosts that might want to pick a fight.

Ellie isn’t sure how long she and Danny have been moving for. It feels like it could have been days, or hours, or even minutes. But Danny can’t fly as quickly right now. He’s trying to keep a brave face for Ellie’s sake but she can see the exhaustion beginning to take hold of him.

So Ellie makes the executive decision to touch down somewhere to rest. She tells Danny she’s tired. Danny knows she isn’t and it’s only because she’s worried and wants him to rest. So he goes along with it and they make their way to the next floating island they come across and thank the ancients it’s empty. The two halfas touch down and Danny slumps over as he sits against a nearby rock. Ellie pulls out some energy bars that were tucked away in the go bag and hands one over to Danny.

They do this a few times, stopping to rest, as they gradually make their way to the Far Frozen. Ellie had insisted on going there, Frostbite would know what to do, and he would be able to help Danny with his injuries that had started bleeding again in all the commotion of escaping, and then flying and hiding from ghosts known to attack Danny regularly.

But unfortunately luck is not on their side yet again as a natural portal rips open directly in front of them, and closes behind them after spitting them out in a city they didn’t recognise.

That’s how Danny and Ellie find themselves in Coast City, hiding out in an old warehouse by the docs while Danny heals and they figure out how they’re going to get back home.

That is, until now.

Danny stares up at his little sister and sighs with the resigned tone of an exasperated older sibling.

“Ellie,” he takes a breath, “what did you do?”

“I’m my defence,” Ellie glares up at Green Lantern, who has Ellie scruffed by the back of her hoodie, before looking back at Danny, “I simply do not vibe with the law.”

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leighsartworks216 · 3 months ago

Text

Interruption

Sylus x fem!Reader

I had this partially written up in my notes and just left it there for the longest time, and finally got the inspiration to finish it tonight when I probably should be sleeping lol

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, silly, pregnancy, established relationship, short + sweet, teasing, banter, kissing

Word Count: 463

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third LADs Masterlists

AO3

Tag List Form

There's a soft knock at the door, drumming out in a familiar pattern. All discussions stop dead as Sylus holds up a hand.

"Come in, sweetheart."

The door cracks open, letting in the light from the hall. A select handful of Onychinus' clientele stare as you come waddling in, belly swollen and round, one hand cradled under to support the weight.

You smile apologetically at the other men in the room with a hushed, "Sorry!" It sweetens into something akin to warm honey when you turn your attention to the silver-haired man sitting behind the desk.

He opens an arm to you as you approach, where you fit yourself to the side of his chair like it's second-nature. His hand rests with splayed fingers over your lower back, massaging out the tension pressing down on your spine. You run a hand through his hair and press a kiss to his forehead.

"Dinner's going to be ready, soon. You almost done here?"

He hums. "Just about. You should have sent Mephisto up to fetch me, or one of the twins."

You scoff with a defiant grin. "I'm perfectly capable of coming up here myself, thank you very much."

"I know you are," he acquiesces with a smile.

It is a mistake to think for even a second that the great leader has let his guard down. On the contrary, now that you are here, heavily pregnant as you are, he is at his most dangerous. A quick glance in the direction of his company says as much. His lips are curled into something disarming, but his eyes hold a warning with unfathomable consequences. The clients look away sharply. They stare at the walls, at bookshelves and decor. You don't pay them any mind as you boop his nose with your finger, drawing his attention back to you.

"Try not to get any blood on the carpet."

"I'll do my best."

He tilts his chin up, stretches his neck out to reduce the distance you have to bow to peck his lips. He supports your back with a bit more pressure as you straighten back up. It doesn't fully slip away from you until you've stepped out of reach. You smile at the other people in the room as you reach the door.

"Sorry for interrupting. Carry on!"

The door closes. The light from the world beyond is shut out. The clientele look back up with uncertainty. Sylus crosses his leg lazily over the other, resting his elbow on the arm of his chair and his fingers against his temple.

"Now," he says, and all fondness has slipped away with you, his voice now edged with tense impatience, "I believe we're just about finished here, don't you? I don't like to keep my wife waiting."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @nothankyew @terriblesoup @jeleryyy @nezuswritingdesk @anaathxma @ssushi @mina7820 @monophobix @mentaltrouble2201 @mskaylacharite @nerrivm @ichosesparklingtorment @schnittled @animegamerfox @flamedancer13 @rebloggingislove @moonlight-inthe-sea @persepolys @satorubabee @sleepykittycx @perla-drg @17chuuya @slovesyouuu @leiakitty @lemonn015

#fanfic #fanfiction #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #fem reader #x fem reader #female reader #x female reader

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darlingbabyboo · 1 year ago

Note

I've been thinking for a while about a particular one shot request and I read it last night on another fandom, so now I kinda wanna see it with TR.

So here it is : How would some of the guys react to us doodling on their hand during some boring class? (Mikey, Draken, Takemichi, Mitsuya, Haitani brothers and the Kawata twins)

Sorry if it's too much! It doesn't have to be anything big, just a small reaction would be more than perfect, since I love your writing so much. 🥹

Baby, What Are You Doing...

Summary: the guys react to you doodling on their arms

Notes: some small blurbs about the guys. These vary in length and I was lowkey running out of ideas while I was writing but I tried my best to stay original! Also, not edited bcs I don't got time for that, you see a mistake, no you didn't <333

Mikey is kinda out there so he probably wouldn't even notice you were writing on his hand, but when he does he eats that shit up. He's lazy so he doesn't like going to get tats but he loves some ink. He will praise you and start requesting things like you're a professional artist. 'Please babe, I want a dorayaki on my forearm.' You bite your lip to hide your blossoming smile, 'you know I'm not a professional artist, right?' Your boyfriend shrugs and smacks a kiss to your cheek, 'you are to me babe!'

Draken notices right away what you're doing and is probably a bit confused at first. Like, do you want him to get another tattoo??? He'll do it hun, just ask. You two are relaxing in his bed, just enjoying each other's presence. He's surprised when you pull out a Sharpie and start doodling your name on his arm. 'Honey, what're you doing?' You give a sheepish grin, 'sorry, is it a problem.' He looks at the doodle, and you start to relax when you spot no disgust in his eyes. 'No problem hun,' he turns to you, 'think I should get this my next visit?' You squeal and wrap your arms around his neck as he looks at the doodle in wonder, more love sprouting in his heart.

Takemichi is a loser (affectionate) and he would never get a tattoo because he can't stand that pain, so he will take take that doodle and he will hold it with pride. 'Sweetie, I love it so much!' He wraps his arms around your waist and you can feel his smile against your stomach. You giggle at his wonder at some shitty stick figures along his arms. 'It's really no big deal' You say, running your hands through his hair, 'you don't need to be so happy.' He shakes his head, 'it is a big deal,' He insists, 'I've never seen anything better!'

Mitsuya my love, my heart, my will to live. He will be gassing up so much that you'll probably start believing that you're the best artist in the world. He's just such a supportive cutie pie <3 'Darling, this is one of the greatest things I've ever seen,' You laugh at the amazement in his eyes as you scribble your name in mock script on his arms. It's barley legible, but Takashi doesn't seem to care, 'you sure about that?' The smile doesn't drop from his face as he looks at you with hearts in his eyes, 'I think it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.'

I'm sorry but Smiley is probably the biggest asshole when he catches you doing this. He loves it, I promise, but he's a jerk 100% of the time, it's hard for him to turn it off. He raises an eyebrow when he sees you uncap your sharpie and start to draw something on his hand. 'What the fuck is that supposed to be?' He mutters. You laugh awkwardly at his harsh tone and drop your Sharpie, 'sorry, I just saw some cute videos about people putting their initials on their boyfriends wrists and I thought-it's stupid sorry-I don't know why I did that.' You duck your head down, burying your face into his chest, feeling that your body's on fire. Smiley looks at the half-finished doodle on his wrist. 'Don't stop baby, shit's pretty cute.' He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, 'I might get it tatted up.'

Angry is so flustered when he sees you doing this and he loves it so much okay. He feels like wearing it is a testament of how strong your love is. He will ask you (nervously) to do it every day because he doesn't want it to fade. 'Oh my gosh! Souya, you scared me, what're you doing there?' He stands awkwardly in the corner of your room, playing with the ends of his sleeves. 'Sorry... I didn't want to scare you... I just...' He pulls up his sleeve and he sees the fading bunny on his arm. 'I don't wanna bother you, I just-' 'Don't worry baby, I get it.' You cut him off, cupping his cheek and placing a kiss on his cheek. You pull him towards the bed and tell him to wait, 'I just need to get my Sharpies!'

Ran won't notice I'm sorry. He sleeps most of the day and he already has so much ink that some doodles won't pop out to him too much. It's only until he notices you doodling on a piece of paper one day and compares it to what's all over his arms that he starts tweakin'. 'Angel have you been inkin' me up?' He raises an eyebrow at you, confused. You hide your smile, 'of course not, I have no idea what you're talking about.' He narrows his eyes, '...okay.' Not completely believing you, but too sleepy to question things. 'Wanna take a nap?' You feel the Sharpie in your pocket and bite the inside of your cheeks, 'I'd love to!'

Rindou will eat that shit up, oh my gosh he loves it so much. He's like the extreme version of Angry and Mikey. He wants it obvious, and he wants it bold. 'C'mon princess, your name on my collarbone, I need it.' You raise an eyebrow as you straddle him, 'in red though, that's a bit... much.' He shakes his head, 'no, no, it'll be perfect.' You shake your head in exasperation, your boyfriend is a big dummy, but he loves you with every part of himself.

#tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers scenarios #rindou x reader #ran x reader #smiley x reader #angry x reader #mikey x reader #mitsuya x reader #takemichi x reader #draken x reader #nahoya kawata x reader #souya kawata x reader

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burntoutdaydreamer · 2 years ago

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Weird Brain Hacks That Help Me Write

I'm a consistently inconsistent writer/aspiring novelist, member of the burnt-out-gifted-kid-to-adult-ADHD-diagnosis-pipeline, recently unemployed overachiever, and person who's sick of hearing the conventional neurotypical advice to dealing with writer's block (i.e. "write every single day," or "there's no such thing as writer's block- if you're struggling to write, just write" Like F*CK THAT. Thank you, Brenda, why don't you go and tell someone with diabetes to just start producing more insulin?)

I've yet to get to a point in my life where I'm able to consistently write at the pace I want to, but I've come a long way from where I was a few years ago. In the past five years I've written two drafts of a 130,000 word fantasy novel (currently working on the third) and I'm about 50,000 words in on the sequel. I've hit a bit of a snag recently, but now that I've suddenly got a lot of time on my hands, I'm hoping to revamp things and return to the basics that have gotten me to this point and I thought I might share.

1) My first draft stays between me and God

I find that I and a lot of other writers unfortunately have gotten it into our heads that first drafts are supposed to resemble the finished product and that revisions are only for fixing minor mistakes. Therefore, if our first draft sucks that must mean we suck as writers and having to rewrite things from scratch means that means our first draft is a failure.

I'm here to say that is one of the most detrimental mentalities you can have as a writer.

Ever try drawing a circle? You know how when you try to free-hand draw a perfect circle in one go, it never turns out right? Whereas if you scribble, say, ten circles on top of one another really quickly and then erase the messy lines until it looks like you drew a circle with a singular line, it ends up looking pretty decent?

Yeah. That's what the drafting process is.

Your first draft is supposed to suck. I don't care who you are, but you're never going to write a perfect first draft, especially if you're inexperienced. The purpose of the first draft is to lay down a semi-workable foundation. A really loose, messy sketch if you will. Get it all down on paper, even if it turns out to be the most cliche, cringe-inducing writing you've ever done. You can work out those kinks in the later drafts. The hardest part of the first draft is the most crucial part: getting started. Don't stress yourself out and make it even harder than it already is.

If that means making a promise to yourself that no one other than you will ever read your first draft unless it's over your cold, dead body, so be it.

2) Tell perfectionism to screw off by writing with a pen

I used to exclusively write with pencil until I realized I was spending more time erasing instead of writing.

Writing with a pen keeps me from editing while I right. Like, sometimes I'll have to cross something out or make notes in the margins, but unlike erasing and rewriting, this leaves the page looking like a disaster zone and that's a good thing.

If my writing looks like a complete mess on paper, that helps me move past the perfectionist paralysis and just focus on getting words down on the page. Somehow seeing a page full of chicken scratch makes me less worried about making my writing all perfect and pretty- and that helps me get on with my main goal of fleshing out ideas and getting words on a page.

3) It's okay to leave things blank when you can't think of the right word

My writing, especially my first draft, is often filled with ___ and .... and (insert name here) and red text that reads like stage directions because I can't think of what is supposed to go there or the correct way to write it.

I found it helps to treat my writing like I do multiple choice tests. Can't think of the right answer? Just skip it. Circle it, come back to it later, but don't let one tricky question stall you to the point where you run out of brain power or run out of time to answer the other questions.

If I'm on a role, I'm not gonna waste it by trying to remember that exact word that I need or figure out the right transition into the next scene or paragraph. I'm just going to leave it blank, mark to myself that I'll need to fix the problem later, and move on.

Trust me. This helps me sooooo much with staying on a roll.

4) Write Out of Order

This may not be for everyone, but it works wonders for me.

Sure, the story your writing may need to progress chronologically, but does that mean you need to write it chronologically? No. It just needs to be written.

I generally don't do this as much for editing, but for writing, so long as you're making progress, it doesn't matter if it's in the right order. Can't think of how to structure Chapter 2, but you have a pretty good idea of how your story's going to end? Write the ending then. You'll have to go back and write Chapter 2 eventually, but if you're feeling more motivated to write a completely different part of the book, who's to say you can't do that?

When I'm working on a project, I start off with a single document that I title "Scrap for (Project Title)" and then just write whatever comes to mind, in whatever order. Once I've gotten enough to work with, then I start outlining my plot and predicting how many chapters I'm going to need. Then, I create separate google docs for each individual chapter and work on them in whatever order I feel like, often leaving several partially complete as I jump from one to the other. Then, as each one gets finished, I copy and paste the chapter into the full manuscript document. This means that the official "draft" could have Chapters 1 and 9, but completely be missing Chapters 2-8, and that's fine. It's not like anyone will ever know once I finish it.

Sorry for the absurdly long post. Hopes this helps someone. Maybe I'll share more tricks in the future.

#writing #creative writing #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writing tips #writing advice #writers block #novel writing #fiction writing #writer #writers of tumblr

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fanfic-troll · 2 years ago

Text

↳ please respond…I showed you my cock ⚤ ghostface x female!reader 【 18+ ONLY — Minors DNI 】 ✉ taking requests part 2 ▻ a pretty mouth

2023 was a different year for everyone. Covid was 2020's big killer, and now ghostface seemed to be claiming 2023 as his year. You were one of his taunting targets. Text messages, phone calls, notes in your locker or mail. He had even been in your room once to leave a message on your mirror.

‘I like the red ones’ which was referring to your panties that you were trying on the other day after doing some much needed retail therapy with some friends.

Your group was getting smaller and smaller as more students were murdered, kidnapped or not heard from in weeks. Curfew was getting shorter that soon enough school was sure to be cancelled until the police solved whoever was running around killing everyone.

It’s Tuesday night and you just finished showering, you had been blowdrying your hair for the last 20 minutes. The recent news far from your thoughts, the truck load of school work that was due was giving you a migraine. Finally your hair was dried and you were ready to slip into bed and start your assignment. You turned your TV on, immediately putting on your current Netflix show that you were binging.

Eyes flicking back and forth from your laptop screen to your TV. You hadn’t checked your phone since you started to shower and noticed you had multiple messages from an unknown number. But it wasn’t unknown to you. You knew exactly who it was.

Unknown Number +1**********

➤ quiet night?

➤ parents aren’t home.

➤ neighbours are out of town.

You had only had one actual physical contact with ghostface which was two weeks ago. He chased you around your house until your neighbours came barging in and he ran away. Ever since you had your parents change the locks and debate whether or not to send you across the country to live with your aunt and uncle until it was all over. You pleaded that they didn’t and instead they paid for a self defence class for you.

Your phone buzzed again, drawing your attention away from the TV.

Unknown Number +***********

➤ i liked the little show you put on for me the other day.

➤ wish i had been there to ruin those little red panties

You weren’t sure what to write back, you sat there debating if you should even write anything back and entertain this creep.

Just as you put your phone down, the screen lit up and the room echoed from your ringtone.

Unknown Caller

You weren’t sure if you should pick up, but something inside you made you do it.

“Hello?” You hesitantly asked as you held the device up to your ear. Waiting to hear that deep voice that you couldn’t recognise.

“Hello y/n. Enjoying your show?” Your eyes met your TV screen to see your show playing still on low volume. You turned the TV off, quickly standing to your feet to look out your window. It was barely lit outside from the streetlight and nothing seemed to stick out like a sore thumb.

“Who is this? Why are you tormenting me?” You had asked the question too many times that it was just routine, you’d hope that one time he would budge and just tell you.

“The question isn’t who I am. the question is where I am.” You heart began to race, eyes searching endlessly out your window, he had to be close by. You suddenly felt the booty shorts and crop top that you had slid into wasn’t the best attire to be wearing at home alone whilst being stalked by a psycho.

“Look asshole, you wanna play games. I can play.” You weren’t sure what you exact plan was, but it was the first thing to pop into your head. Were you terrified of ghostface? Yes. But did it also arouse you how much he called you, texted you, the fact he had probably seen you naked countless times, even possibly pleasured himself to the sight of you.

“Oh yeah? In the mood for monopoly?” He chuckled darkly on the other end, you could only hope he was still watching you from where he was. With your free hand you danced your fingers down your torso, dipping into the waistband of your shorts and panties and itching your way to your centre that was throbbing. You could hear a deep growl on the other end.

You chuckled into the phone, knowing he was definitely watching you now. You breathed a soft moan as your fingertip circles your juicy clit, using your arousal as lube to slick your finger around the bundle of nerves. Your moans grew louder and your mouth fell agape as you began walking backwards onto your bed, allowing yourself to fall back into the plush mattress and send yourself into a bliss.

You had forgotten about ghostface, your phone falling from your ear to beside your head.

“Hey!” Your eyes popped open as you remembered he was still on the other end. You quickly grabbed it, slowing your circles to keep yourself on edge.

“I want to hear your pretty cries when you cum, I want you to cum to me and only me. You got that princess?” His words were sharp and threatening, just like the blade he used to murder your friends. God you were getting turned on and touching yourself to a psycho killer. The unexpected happened next. A snapchat notification came through.

Gfce23 added you on Snapchat!

It was him. It had to be. You accepted, still working yourself and slipping a finger inside your dripping cunt to get more arousal on your clit.

Immediately a video came through, along with a few photos. You bit your lip as you thought about what could possibly be on the other end. You had to take the chance though, you were too far down the rabbit hole.

“Open them, I want you to see what you fucking do to me.” His voice was hoarse and breathless, you could tell he was jerking himself on the other end or something. You clicked on the purple square. Your eyes met a hard cock, veiny and thick. The tip an enraged red with a slight purple tinge. A single drop of precum oozing out the slit and his black leather glove wrapped around his cock.

The video began playing and his hand jerked his cock slowly, throaty moans echoing as the video continued to play and that drop of precum dripped down his pinkish shaft. A small bush of pubic hair that led to a faint snail trail and a set of what you could only guess were abs.

His hand got faster and his moans got faster as he pumped himself hard in his hand, but before you could view more you heard your parents car pulling into the driveway with their faint music blaring.

Ghostface was in the back of your mind as you quickly closed your phone and got settled into bed. Ghostface didn’t call you back, didn’t text you and didn’t send anything else to you that night. But that does’t mean he let you off easy.

It had only been a few days since you last heard from ghostface, but when you did you were surprised to see the message he had sent through was not his usual taunting, threatening approach.

Unkown Number +**********

➤ i want to see that pretty pussy spread out tonight

➤ leave your window unlocked

➤ i know your parents wont be home

➤ hope you like it rough princess

#ghostface smut #ghostface #scream #scream2 #scream3 #scream4 #scream5 #scream6 #screamsmut #mickey altieri #mickey altieri smut #billy loomis #billy loomis smut #ghostface x reader #smut

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storiesfromafan · 11 months ago

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His Nightmare - Mattheo x Reader

A/N: do forgive me and my lack of Mattheo stories, or updates on my Obsessed series. But I am back, gracing you with a small under 1000 word one-shot.

I promise I am workiing on the next part of Obsessed 😅

They say Mattheo Riddle was possessive and a psycho when it came to you, his girlfriend. And that was warranted. The only thing most students didn’t know was that you were just as bad, if not worse then your boyfriend.

A silly Hufflepuff girl makes goo-goo eyes at Mattheo as she passes him in the hallway. You’re waiting a head of her, by a set of stairs. And when she is near, that girl accidently ends up going down them all the while you look on with a pointed glare.

An over confident Gryffindor girl passes Mattheo a note in potions, while you’re sitting next to him. Sure you both had a laugh at her stupid confession. But she ends up with detention after you hex her potion to explode when Snape is inspecting her potion. The classroom unfortunately has to deal with a dark cloud due to Snape being covered in a foamy substance.

A cocky Ravenclaw girl falls into Mattheo's lap when out in the courtyard, giggling and calling herself clumsy. When she’s far from it. Of course your boyfriend rolls his eyes and plays nice. But you don’t hold your tongue. Telling her to get her brain checked for a possible misplaced brain cell. Or better yet, go to Madam Pomfry and get her to use her bone growth potion to help fix her shotty legs. While you’re at it, get a life and sod off, as Mattheo ain’t interested in no bird brain. That last part a shot at the girls house.

Slytherin girls knew better. As the last, and only, girl to try to make a move on your boyfriend got the worse of it. No one will say what happened to her, but no one confirms nor denies an unforgivable curse was used. And that girl hadn’t returned after going home for Christmas break. Which didn’t help the rumors.

You’re a strong, darkness in Mattheo's life. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. For he was the same. Two dark souls, all consuming and loving the other. The unofficially titled King and Queen of Slytherin.

Lounging in the courtyard, you were propped up against a large tree. Your loving boyfriend was laying down, head resting on your lap. He was smoking a cigarette while you were reading and running your fingers threw his dark locks. Peace for the moment for you both. Something that doesn’t happen often. Your friends either in detention or bothering other students.

“I heard some interesting gossip" Mattheo said after expelling the latest draw from his cigarette.

“Hmm, really? Do tell" you replied turning the page you’d just finished.

He chuckled recalling the gossip. “I heard some Hufflepuff girl in flying lessons fell off her broom today".

“Oh? Is that all?” You questioned with amusement, your lips quirking at the corner in a small smirk.

Mattheo smirked to himself. “No, no. It seems the silly girls broom took off on its own. Taking her on a rather lively ride around the open area, before finally shaking her off and into a ditch".

You giggled darkly. “Is that so? How clumsy of her".

Mattheo looked up to you, amused by the joy you were experiencing from his words. “I thought you would have told me love, as you were in that class".

You marked your page and closed the book, setting it down beside you. You looked down at your boyfriend with warmth and satisfaction in your eyes. Leaning down you placed a small, lingering kiss up on his lips. The taste of his current cigarette invading you, but you most definitely enjoyed it when it was mixed with his own natural taste. Pulling back you gave him a beaming smile.

“It must have slipped my mind love, sorry" was your simple reply with a cute giggle. Before you sat back up, picking up your book and continuing were you left off.

Mattheo laughed, feeling nothing but pride. “Hmm, yes it must have".

He knew it was you. But what he didn’t know was that the Hufflepuff was mouthing off about you. Saying how Mattheo could do better then you. How you were beneath him. How she was better. You had laughed at that. And hexed her broom to teach her a lesson. Which it has, as when you crossed paths earlier in the hallway, as she was heading from the infirmary, displaying a frightened look on her face before she scuttled away. Tail between her legs.

Yes, girl after girl who comes up against you learns their lesson. Other female students know their place, but there are still those that step forward to challenge you. And you will always knock them down, to the place beneath you, were they belong.

“You are such a nightmare" Mattheo mused with delight and love.

You smiled, twisting one of Mattheo's curls around a finger. “Yes love, but I am and always will be your nightmare".

A/N: requests are open 😊

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle

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saythenametotheworld · 5 months ago

Text

Long Story Short | n.jm (18+)

Na Jaemin—your best friend, the one person who’d always been there for you, comes to help you back to your feet again. But is it too late to finally see him for what he truly is?

Campus Confessions master list

Genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, smut Pairing: Na Jaemin x afab!reader Warnings: sloooow burn, explicit sexual content Notes: 24k words. Part 5/5 of the Campus Confessions series, but can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to long story short by Taylor Swift. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

playlist: long story short by taylor swift, friends by ed sheeran, clean by taylor swift

The school was packed. Students and visitors crowded the halls, their chatter and laughter echoing off the walls. The international high school science fair had taken over the campus, drawing in visitors and competitors from different schools—and different countries—but you couldn’t care less about any of it.

You checked your phone for the nth time, then sighed, shifting the cold cup of iced coffee in your hands. Your hand had started to numb, and your patience was running thin as you tapped your finger on the cup. The coffee was for Jaemin, something to hold him over until you both could finally leave and get proper food. But he was taking too long.

It was his birthday, and all you wanted was to take him to your favorite pizza place after he finished whatever student council errand had him running around. He had promised he’d be quick, but it had been twenty minutes since.

Just as you were about to text him, a pair of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind. “BOO.”

You jolted, the coffee slipping from your grip. The lid popped off upon impact, ice and liquid splashing onto your uniform. A sharp gasp left your lips as you turned to find Jaemin grinning, completely unbothered.

“Are you kidding me?” You gawked at him, arms lifted away from your body as the cold sank into your shirt. “Jaemin!”

His hands shot up in mock surrender. “In my defense, I didn’t think you’d scare that easily.”

“You jumped me!” You gestured at your now-stained uniform. “And now I’m soaked. Great. Happy birthday to you.”

Jaemin laughed, stepping back just as you raised your hand to smack his arm. “Relax. You can just buy me a new one.”

“Go buy yourself a new one,” you retorted, shoving the half-empty cup into his hand. You huffed, marching past him toward the school gates.

He gulped the remaining contents of the cup and caught up with you, while you tugged at your damp collar, scowling. “You took forever, my hand’s numb, and now I’m freezing.”

“Don’t you have a handkerchief on you, or something?” he asked, unzipping his jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“I did have one,” you muttered, standing still as he adjusted his jacket on you and zipped it up. “But some guy needed it, so I gave it to him.”

Jaemin scoffed, shaking his head. “You really shouldn’t be giving out your stuff to just anyone,” he chided, patting your shoulders. “There. You’re good to go.”

The warmth of his jacket surrounded you, chasing away your irritation. It smelled like detergent and something distinctively Jaemin, something familiar. It wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this. Jaemin was always looking out for you and you didn’t think much of it.

Back then, you never really did.

The ceiling stared back at you, dull and lifeless, as your mind drifted aimlessly. Disconnected and meaningless thoughts swam through your mind—old conversations, half-formed ideas, fleeting memories. Until your eyes caught sight of the strip light clinging stubbornly to the edge of the ceiling, with its adhesive peeling away after years of being up there.

Jaemin had helped you put it up when you were sixteen. He’d almost fallen off the ladder, wobbling dramatically while you stood below looking unimpressed with your arms crossed. You’d given him hell about it, calling him useless for something he was doing as a favor. Your mom had scolded you after, shaking her head at how mean you were to a boy who was nice enough to help you out.

The memory made you smile, though it felt distant now. Back then, everything felt light and easy. Your only worries had been how to perfectly capture the grunge aesthetic you wanted for your bedroom.

A knock at the door cut through your musings, making your head snap in the direction of the door. You barely had time to sit up before Jaemin pushed it open, stepping inside like he owned the place.

He took one look at you and sighed dramatically. “It’s 10 a.m. Why aren’t you ready?”

“I am ready.”

He glanced at your bed, then at you—still in pajamas. “No, you’re not.”

“All my stuff’s packed,” you shot back, rising to your feet. “I just need to change and we’re good to go.”

Jaemin sighed but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed your bags, hauling them out of your room without waiting for you to catch up. After quickly changing, you followed him outside to where his car was parked at the curb.

Your mom and sister stood by the door, sending you off with a chorus of reminders. “Don’t skip meals,” “Call when you get there,” “Behave yourself.” You nodded along to each of them, half-listening, while Jaemin loaded your things into the trunk.

Then, just like always—like second nature—

You slid into the passenger seat without thinking. You pulled the seatbelt over your shoulder, and Jaemin draped a blanket over your lap just as you reached for the console to connect your phone. A lollipop landed in your palm at the same time you tossed his glasses from the dashboard into his waiting hand.

“The silver one,” said Jaemin, nodding at the other pair of glasses on the dashboard. You took the black ones and swapped them with the silver ones.

“Thank you,” he chimed, wearing them carefully and showing them to you. “Looks better, don’t you think?”

You grimaced. “It looks the same to me.”

Jaemin deadpanned, shaking his head as he started the engine. “Why do I even bother asking someone with no taste?”

“Excuse me? How dare you?”

Four hours passed with comfortable conversation and music, your voices occasionally singing along to the songs playing through the speakers.

At some point, Jaemin reached for the volume dial, turning it down a notch. “You’re lucky we’re friends,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You raised a brow. “Oh? What did I do now?”

“You put that song in the playlist,” he said, nodding at the stereo like it had personally offended him. “We’ve been over this. It’s a crime against my ears.”

You gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? This is a masterpiece.”

Jaemin shot you a look of pure judgment. “It sounds like a car alarm.”

“You have no taste.”

“And you have terrible taste,” he retorted. “It’s been in all of your playlists since high school. Don’t you get sick of it?”

Scoffing, you skipped to the next song—one you knew he actually liked, though you made a show of sighing as if it physically pained you to do so. “Better?”

Jaemin grinned. “Thank you so much.”

The rest of the drive was uneventful, filled with more playful arguments about music choices, lazy singing, and the occasional comfortable silence. By the time you reached the city, your playlist had nearly looped itself, and Jaemin was humming along without even realizing it.

“You know,” you mused, unbuckling your seatbelt as he pulled up to your apartment, “for someone who ‘hates’ my music, you sure know all the words.”

Jaemin clicked his tongue, feigning annoyance. “Unfortunately, exposure to bad influences does that.”

You stuck your tongue out at him before stepping out of the car. Jaemin parked in front of your apartment building and helped you carry your bags upstairs, unloading them and complaining about how heavy they were. You only scoffed, knowing he was just being dramatic.

“You have dinner plans?” he asked once everything was inside. You shook your head. “You should text the others. Let’s all have dinner together.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” you replied, slumping on your couch.

You could tell he was stalling. Dragging things out with small tasks—checking if the appliances are plugged in, rearranging the shoes by the door, checking his phone without really reading anything. But eventually, he ran out of excuses.

Jaemin stepped toward the doorway, pausing with one hand on the knob. “Are you sure you’ll be fine?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

His expression didn’t change, but you could tell he didn’t buy it. “There’s still a few hours before dinnertime. Don’t you wanna go out and do something?”

“If you’re so worried, why don’t you just hang out with me until later?”

“Oh, I have to take my stuff to the dorms,” he replied, sighing as if he really was considering the idea. “Are you sure you don’t wanna live with the girls? Just so you’re not alone.”

“I’ll be fine, Jaemin.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another like he wanted to say something else. But he didn’t. With one last glance, he gave a small nod and stepped out.

And then, just as the door was about to shut, his head popped back in. “Text me if you need anything.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know.”

Still, he hesitated. He paused briefly by the doorway, giving your apartment one last sweep. Then finally, finally, he walked away. The door clicked shut, and the silence that followed was deafening. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Alone again.

You tilted your head back, resting on the backrest of the sofa and staring at the ceiling. It had become a habit at this point, staring at the ceiling and letting your mind wander anywhere and everywhere.

Six months had passed since the accident in Mykonos that left you with a few scars and a broken heart. Six whole months of healing and trying to reconnect with the person that you were before that summer. Seeing a therapist helped for the most part. You were able to talk about what happened, address your questions and confusions, and face the consequences of your actions. But it was useless for the emptiness that followed. The odd feeling of having a hole in your heart but not feeling any sadness or hurt about it. It was just… there.

This emptiness tends to be strong when you are alone. You hated it, but after six months of being a burden, of having people walk on eggshells around you, you couldn’t bring yourself to confide in anyone and tell them you hated being alone.

You stared at the boxes scattered across your living room, the remnants of your hasty move. The idea of doing something productive was almost laughable, but you pushed the thought aside. You were going to unpack. You would. And that would be something.

The process was slow at first as you sorted through the boxes. Old books, some clothes you hadn’t seen in ages, and trinkets you’d forgotten about began to fill the shelves and hang in the closet. It wasn’t the most exciting task, but it was progress.

Eventually, your mind began to wander as your hands kept working. You hadn’t realized how much bigger this new apartment was compared to your last one. It was the same building but the living room felt more spacious compared to your previous unit.

The layout was unfamiliar, and for a moment, you paused, your eyes drifting down the hallway to a door you hadn’t really noticed before. It led to a second bedroom. You hadn’t asked for it when you’d signed the lease—this new place was supposed to be temporary, just for this semester. You’d taken the break from college to heal, to recalibrate after the wreckage of the past summer. Now you were back and a small part of you felt like an alien in an unfamiliar territory. You hadn’t exactly figured out how to balance all of this—your old life and this new version of yourself.

You moved to the second bedroom, setting up the bed with the same care you’d given the first. The window in here was smaller, but it was cozy and had enough space for a few furniture and for moving around. It could be perfect for when your mom comes. Or, maybe it would just be a place for things you never used.

When you finally made it to the living room, the place was looking less like a chaotic mess and more like an apartment. You flicked on the TV, hoping some background noise would distract you from the heavy silence that seemed to follow you around. Sinking back on the plush couch, you entertained yourself with a show you’d been meaning to watch.

You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep until loud, persistent knocks on your door jolted you awake. For a moment, you just stared at the TV, trying to make sense of the time and the situation. Then the knocks came again, this time with such force it sounded like they might break the door down.

Your heart rate quickened. You sat upright, momentarily disoriented, rubbing your eyes. Glancing at the clock, you saw that two hours had passed. You quickly got to your feet, shaking off the grogginess as you reached for the door.

“Who is it?” you asked, turning the knob and swinging the door open.

What greeted you was Jaemin’s panic-stricken face, his phone pressed to his ear, and his eyes wide as if he were on the verge of tears.

“Jaemin? What happened—” Before you could finish, he pulled you into a tight hug, squeezing the breath out of you.

“What’s going on?” you asked, suddenly nervous.

“Oh god, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbled, holding you even tighter.

“Jaemin,” you said, trying to push him off, but he wouldn’t budge. “Jaemin, I can’t breathe!”

Finally, he pulled back, hands still gripping your shoulders as he demanded, “Where were you? Why didn’t you pick up?”

You blinked, caught off guard for a moment. You glanced at your phone on the coffee table, still buzzing because he was still calling you on his phone.

“Oh…” you trailed off, feeling suddenly guilty. “I fell asleep. I didn’t hear it.

Jaemin sighed, his shoulders sagging as he stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck. Before he could say anything else, the door swung open again, revealing the worried faces of your friends. The moment they saw you, relief flooded their expressions, and they practically lunged at you, whining and fake-sobbing as they pulled you into a dramatic group hug.

You caught Jaemin's eye. You gave him a quick, questioning glance, discreetly mouthing, “What's going on? Why are they here?”

Jaemin paused, then mouthed back, “This is all your fault.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but before you could protest, your friends were already dragging you back into the apartment, chattering excitedly, leaving Jaemin behind with his amused grin.

Dinner plans had taken an unexpected turn, and now your apartment was filled with the comforting chaos of your friends’ voices, laughter echoing from both the kitchen and living room. Jaemin and Renjun had taken over cooking duties, moving around each other with an ease that suggested they’d done this plenty of times before. You sat curled up on the couch with Karina and Giselle, half-listening to their chatter while keeping an eye on whatever Jaemin was doing near the stove.

“I swear, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Karina huffed, lightly smacking your arm. “Jaemin made it sound like you were unconscious or kidnapped or dead.”

“I was asleep,” you muttered, sinking further into the cushions. “Totally fine. He might’ve overreacted a little.”

“Overreacted?” Giselle scoffed. “You disappeared for hours, didn’t pick up a single call, and this is your first night back. Can you blame us for being a little overprotective?”

You pursed your lips, unsure how to respond to that. You weren’t trying to worry them. It just hadn’t occurred to you that they’d actually be this worried.

“I get it,” Karina said, her tone softer now. “I know it must be exhausting having people hover over you all the time, but you kinda scared us. We’re not trying to be dramatic, we just—” She hesitated. “We don’t want you slipping back into that place.”

You exhaled through your nose. “I was asleep,” you repeated, though your voice lacked conviction this time.

For a while, the conversation drifted to lighter things—Karina complaining about her new professor, Giselle filling you in on a particularly messy situationship she got tangled up in. But in between their stories, your mind wandered. You’d been back for less than a day, and it already felt like there was a spotlight on you. Like everyone was waiting for you to break again.

As Karina started a new story, you took the opportunity to discreetly lean toward her and lower your voice. “Okay, but... why is Renjun here?”

She blinked at you. “Oh. He kinda just... ended up in the group last semester.”

You furrowed your brows. “How?”

“Dunno,” she said, shrugging. “We all started hanging out more, and he just stuck around.”

“Jaemin was the one who pulled him in, I think,” Giselle added. “And then it just happened. You probably didn’t notice ‘cause, well... you weren’t around.”

Right. You hadn’t been around. It was a strange realization—like the world had kept moving while you were frozen in place.

Before you could dwell on it, Giselle suddenly perked up, her voice turning mischievous. “Hey, Renjun,” she called toward the kitchen, loudly enough to grab everyone’s attention. “How’s it feel to make food for the girl you used to like?”

Karina covered a laugh with her hand, while Jaemin snorted under his breath. Renjun, standing by the stove, exhaled slowly and shook his head, giving Giselle a look that was equal parts tired and unimpressed.

“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?” he muttered, turning to Jaemin instead of dignifying the question with a real response.

Jaemin only smirked, stirring the pot in front of him. “Nope.”

You wanted to sink into the floor. Giselle, clearly entertained, leaned closer to you. “Does it feel weird?” she whispered. “Having your ex-crush make you dinner?”

You shot her a look. “We’re not talking about this.”

“We should talk about this,” Giselle insisted, grinning. “We wouldn’t want things to be awkward. We’re fond of him, you see.”

Karina leaned closer and lowered her voice. “We like him more than Jaemin.”

“I can hear you,” Jaemin interjected, pointing the spatula at Karina.

Thankfully, they didn’t press on the matter. Dinner proceeded smoothly after that, filled with easy conversations, inside jokes, and the occasional teasing at Jaemin’s expense. The warm, comforting energy reminded you of what you had missed—of how much you had needed this.

By the time the meal wound down, everyone was full and content, slumping into their seats as Jaemin and Renjun made a half-hearted attempt to clear the dishes before eventually giving up. With a few reluctant groans, they finally dragged themselves toward the door.

“I expect an actual text back next time,” Jaemin warned, pointing at you as he slipped his shoes on.

You rolled your eyes. “Noted.”

Renjun only gave you a small nod before stepping out, and just like that, the apartment felt quieter. But not for long.

The moment the door clicked shut, Karina and Giselle turned to you with identical grins. “Sleepover,” Giselle announced.

You blinked. “What?”

“We’re staying over,” Karina said, already making herself comfortable on your couch. “You don’t get a say.”

And just like that, the night stretched on, filled with whispered gossip, bursts of laughter, and limbs tangled together as the three of you squeezed into your bed. There was something nostalgic about it—something safe. Maybe it was the way Karina absentmindedly played with your hair, or how Giselle kept making you both laugh until your stomachs hurt.

Either way, by the time sleep finally took over, you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this at peace.

The first day of the new semester felt like walking into an old sitcom set. Same buildings, same people, same scenes playing out with minor variations. Even the air smelled the same, a mix of coffee, freshly printed syllabi, and stress.

Your first lecture was a blur. You spent most of it half-listening, jotting down random notes between doodles, and staring at the clock. Time moved in an odd way—too slow and too fast all at once. Lunch was better, mostly because it required no real thought. You walked through the crowded cafeteria, tray in hand, until you spotted your friends at a corner table. Karina and Giselle were talking, Jaemin was picking at his fries, and Renjun looked relaxed and refreshed.

Jaemin glanced up as you sat down. “Finally. Our esteemed scholar returns from the clutches of education.”

You stabbed a cherry tomato with your fork. “It’s syllabus week. I haven’t done anything.”

“And you still look like you’ve been through war,” Karina teased.

You hummed noncommittally, half-listening as they fell into conversation. Someone mentioned a professor who still hadn’t uploaded the syllabus, then the best study spots on campus, then somehow they were debating the worst seats to get in a lecture hall.

The minutes stretched. The sun outside moved slowly. You took bites of your food at an unhurried pace.

At some point, Jaemin turned to Renjun. “I can’t believe you’re still sitting with us.”

He didn’t even look up from his phone. “I can’t believe I’m still sitting with you either.”

“We adopted him,” Giselle said. “He had no choice.”

Karina leaned back in her chair. “We like him more than you, so he’s not going anywhere.”

Jaemin placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. Right on my face?”

“Renjun doesn’t embarrass us in public,” Giselle pointed out.

“Not yet,” Renjun muttered, glancing at you.

The conversation continued with pointless yet oddly entertaining topics. Someone tried to recall the name of a movie but got it completely wrong. Jaemin made a terrible pun that Karina groaned at but Giselle immediately wrote it down for later use. You laughed a few times without realizing it.

And then, just like that, lunch ended. Trays were cleared, schedules compared, half-hearted complaints about afternoon classes exchanged.

The next few days passed pretty much the same. Classes, meals, occasional hangouts with your friends. Conversations stretched a little too long, and lectures felt like white noise in the background. It wasn’t bad, just monotonous. The world kept moving, even if you weren’t entirely participating.

Your schedule was light by design. Easing back into normal life was the goal, after all. But normal life turned out to be... dull. You sat through your lectures, watching the professors gesture at PowerPoints that no one was paying attention to, doodling in the margins of your notebook just to stay awake.

Somewhere in the middle of it, you befriended your seatmate, Eric. He was easygoing, quick with a joke, and effortlessly charming in the way some people just were. He had a habit of leaning in when he talked, his voice always carrying a hint of amusement.

“Did you get all that?”

“I think so,” you replied, shrugging.

“Great, can I see your notes?”

You glanced down at your page. A series of unrelated scribbles stared back at you. You slid your notebook over anyway.

“Wow,” he muttered, chuckling. “An abstract artist. Impressive.”

You glanced sideways at him, unable to suppress a chuckle at his comment. You tugged your notebook back. “You asked to see it.”

“You know, I think you might be the only person in this class who doesn’t look completely bored and sleepy,” he mused, lazily spinning a pen between his fingers.

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s an assumption.”

“Yeah?” He smirked. “What’s your secret? Other than practicing abstract art in your notebooks.”

“Complete emotional detachment,” you deadpanned.

Eric laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I really really like you.”

You only smiled, assuming he meant it in a general, friendly way.

Meanwhile, Jaemin remained his usual self, looking after you in his own quiet way. He never outright asked if you were okay. He just walked back with you most days, keeping up a steady stream of conversation like he always had.

Today, he was talking about a new café that opened near campus. “They have this matcha croissant that’s supposed to be life-changing,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as you walked. “I heard you girls are already planning a whole trip just to try it.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, glancing at him. “What about you?”

“I mean, I like croissants,” he shrugged. “But I feel like I’ll end up there no matter what.”

You hummed in response. Jaemin didn’t push. Instead, he switched topics, asking if you’d seen the latest episode of the drama you both started last year. You hadn’t.

“That’s tragic,” he sighed. “Now I have to pretend I don’t know what happens every time I talk about it.”

“You could just not talk about it.”

“That’s just impossible,” he said, shaking his head. “You know I don’t have that kind of self-control.”

You huffed a quiet laugh. The week passed before you knew it.

One evening, after another regular day of classes, you came home feeling drained. You went about your routine—shower, tea, maybe a TV show since it was Friday night. You had a good grasp of your plans for the night, until a simple misstep turned into a disaster.

You weren’t even sure how it happened. Did you trip over the edge of the rug? Lose your footing while stepping into the shower? Either way, one second you were moving, and the next, you were on the floor, hissing as a sharp sting shot up your ankle.

It’s not that bad, you told yourself. Just a little soreness. You managed to get an ice pack for it, and went to bed thinking it would be fine in the morning.

Except, by morning, it wasn’t. You were feverish, and the dull ache had worsened. Even shifting the wrong way sent a sharp pulse through your foot. You tried to get up and walk, but that proved impossible, so you decided to call the first person who crossed your mind.

Jaemin arrived not ten minutes later, equipped with some stuff from the drugstore and a takeout bag.

“What happened?” he asked as soon as he stepped into your bedroom.

“Just a little accident,” you said too quickly. “I’m fine, but it hurts to move.”

Jaemin’s face tightened as he examined your ankle, pressing on it just enough for pain to shoot through, making you wince.

He exhaled sharply. “Yeah, no. We’re going to the ER.”

“It’s not that bad. I just need rest and some ibuprofen.”

Jaemin gave you a look. “You also have a fever. We need to check if you broke a bone or something. I know you hate it, but you’re gonna have to deal with this because, honestly, you’re way too clumsy for your own good.”

The trip to the ER wasn’t exactly eventful, but it was exhausting. You sat through the usual process—check-in, vitals, waiting. When the doctor finally saw you, they examined your ankle, prodded at it, and sent you off for an X-ray, just to be sure.

“Good news, nothing’s broken,” the doctor announced when they returned with your results. “Just a bad sprain. We’ll wrap it up, and you’ll need to stay off it for a few days. But there’s something else. Your bloodwork shows low iron and glucose levels.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“You need to eat healthier,” they said simply, setting the file down. “Skipping meals, not getting enough nutrients. It’s showing up in your results. We’re giving you an IV now, but you should be more mindful of your diet moving forward.”

You exhaled as the nurse set up the IV, already anticipating what was coming. Jaemin, who had been sitting quietly beside you, didn’t say I told you so, but you felt it in the way he glanced at you.

It was only after the doctor left that he spoke. “I called your mom,” he said, casual like it was nothing.

Your head snapped toward him. “You what?”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow. “I figured you won’t tell her so, I did.”

“I was gonna tell her,” you grumbled. “Eventually.”

He didn’t look convinced. Before you could say anything else, your phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced at the screen before handing it over. “That’s her.”

Sighing, you took the call. “Hey, Mom.”

“Oh, honey.” Her voice was warm with relief. “Are you okay? Jaemin said you hurt your foot?”

“I’m fine,” you reassured her. “It’s just a sprain. And some iron deficiency, apparently. No big deal.”

Your mom sighed on the other end. “Sweetheart, you have to take care of yourself. Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

“I’ll be fine,” you said. “It’s just a sprain. And I’ll eat better, I promise. They gave me an IV. I’m allowed to go home after this.”

A pause. Then, carefully, she said, “I was thinking maybe one of your friends could stay with you for a few days. Just until you’re feeling better?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but she added quickly, “It’s just a suggestion. I’d feel better knowing someone’s there with you.”

You blinked. “Mom, I don’t wanna bother them like that.”

“I know, but…” she sighed. “Let me talk to Jaemin, sweetie.”

You glanced at Jaemin before handing the phone back to him. He took it without question, nodding along as your mom talked his ear off. You could only catch bits and pieces—something about making sure you eat, not letting you skip meals, and keeping an eye on your ankle.

Eventually, he hung up and turned to you. “So, good news. You’re not dying. Bad news. Your mom insists someone stay with you for a few days. And—” He paused for dramatic effect. “She volunteered me.”

You gave him a flat look. “You volunteered yourself, didn’t you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jaemin dismissed. “What’s important is that I am now your temporary live-in nurse. I expect full cooperation.”

You sighed, debating your options, which, realistically, were none. You could protest, but you knew Jaemin. He wasn’t going to leave you alone while you were limping around your apartment. And honestly? Maybe having him around wouldn’t be that bad.

“Fine,” you muttered.

Jaemin nodded. “Okay. I’ll take the couch.”

You shook your head. “No need. I have a spare room you can use.”

“Oh?” he said, pressing his finger to his chin in a thoughtful gesture. “That’s even better.”

You exhaled slowly, rolling your eyes as you shifted to get more comfortable in the hospital bed. Jaemin, without missing a beat, adjusted the pillow behind you, leaning in a bit closer than necessary. You could smell his cologne, fresh, woodsy, and all too familiar.

“I have rules,” you said, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.

“Of course,” Jaemin murmured, sounding amused.

You felt his hand brush over your forehead for a second, checking your temperature, but it lingered there longer than usual. You let out a quiet sigh, more content than you'd been all evening. With Jaemin here, maybe things would be okay.

You were only 14 when Jaemin and his family moved in next door. At the time, you weren’t particularly thrilled by the idea of befriending some new kid just because your parents told you to. You were used to being on your own, and you didn’t really feel like spending your weekends babysitting someone. But, as parents do, they insisted, so you reluctantly agreed.

It would be easier if he wanted to be friends with you too. But you could sense that he didn’t. He was curt, somehow a little mean when he talked to you. So, despite your parents’ wishes, you didn’t put in the effort to really get to know him.

That was until one Saturday morning. The sun was a little too bright for your taste, but you went with your family anyway. The hike was supposed to be a fun family outing, the kind where you would all get some fresh air and maybe stop at the lake for some snacks. Jaemin had only just moved in for over a week, and he was quiet, reserved, completely out of place in the familiar group of your family and his own. You didn’t blame him for that, but it didn’t stop you from feeling annoyed when your mom pointed him out and told you to stick by his side.

It didn’t take long for Jaemin to get lost. Not that it was entirely his fault. He was a city kid, and the woods were a different world. He wandered too far ahead, distracted by something, and before long, he was out of sight. That was when you heard him calling out for help.

You should’ve ignored it, honestly. The adults would hear him soon and they’d help. But somehow, you couldn’t just leave him alone. So you went after him, with quick steps as you navigated through the trees, trying to track down the lost kid. You found him standing by a cluster of rocks, looking entirely confused.

“Hey,” you called, catching his attention. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

Jaemin turned to face you, frustration and relief etched in his expression. “I... I guess I took a wrong turn.”

With a sigh, you rolled your eyes, stepping forward. “Come on. I’ll take you back.”

He followed you without a word, your pace steady as you led him back to the group. It wasn’t long before the others found you, and the hike resumed without much delay. But Jaemin stuck to you for the rest of the day. You didn’t mind because he was quiet most of the time, so you didn’t need to talk to him.

After that day, Jaemin kept showing up. At school, he’d sit next to you in class, not because he had to, but because he didn’t know anyone else to sit with. At lunch, ,he would find his way to your table, and you’d have your usual back-and-forth, making jokes and laughing about things only the two of you found funny. He was a little quieter back then, but there was always something comfortable about having him around. You didn’t have to try to impress him, and he didn’t make things awkward.

In high school, Jaemin was the guy you called when you couldn’t reach the top shelf in the kitchen, or when your phone was broken and you needed help figuring out what was wrong with it. When your family’s car broke down on a trip out of town, he was the one who came over with his toolbox and somehow managed to get the engine running again. And when you told him your food cravings at 11 PM, he’d be the one to show up at your door with your favorite late-night snack, laughing about how you were impossible to please.

“Am I your slave? Why do I have to do this for you?” he’d complain, but you knew he didn’t mean it.

Jaemin was dependable, and you had always known that. He wasn’t just that. He was also the guy who could make you laugh even when you wanted to stay mad at him. He was good at cooking, always surprising you with something new in the kitchen. And when he’d show you his latest photos, you couldn’t help but feel proud. He was talented. He always managed to stay humble, even when people around him began noticing just how good he was at everything.

You never really told him he was your best friend. You didn’t need to. The way you bickered and joked around always downplayed the depth of your connection, but you both knew you were each other’s person. It was the kind of friendship that didn’t need constant reaffirmation. The kind that lasted because it was simply there, no effort required.

Now, as you sat on the couch in your apartment, Jaemin sitting nearby while you fumbled through a book you were reading, you couldn’t help but notice how little had changed. Jaemin had grown up, of course, he had. He was older now, more popular, more confident, a little more polished. But underneath all of that, he was still the same guy you’d met all those years ago.

Still the guy who could cook you a meal without breaking a sweat, making your favorite dish like it was the easiest thing in the world. Still the one who was always convenient to have around, no matter the situation. There was something strangely comforting about how much he hadn’t changed. He had grown, sure, but the essence of who he was—the one who showed up without being asked, who willingly and effortlessly took care of everything—was still the same.

Jaemin was annoyingly good at taking care of you. The first morning in your apartment, you woke up to the smell of something warm and savory, your stomach twisting in hunger before you were even fully conscious. When you managed to make your way to the kitchen in crutches, he was already plating breakfast, acting like he’d lived here all his life.

“You’re up,” he said, not even looking up from the pan. “Sit. Eat.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Isn’t this too much for breakfast?”

Jaemin set a bowl in front of you, a perfectly balanced meal that made your usual instant ramen diet look embarrassing. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I thought you already knew that?”

You huffed but didn’t argue, mostly because he was right. And because the food smelled too good to resist.

For the next few days, Jaemin took over your apartment like a man on a mission. Since you couldn’t walk, he made sure everything you needed was within reach. He left water bottles and snacks at your bedside. He helped you move whenever you needed to get to the bathroom or the couch.

He had an almost annoying dedication to making sure you ate. Every lunchtime, without fail, he showed up at your apartment. You’d hear the front door unlock, and a few minutes later, he’d be standing in front of you, arms crossed.

“Did you eat?”

You’d roll your eyes. “Yes, Dad.”

Jaemin would glance at the table, checking for evidence. If he saw plates in the sink, he’d nod and remind you to take your meds before going back to campus. Sometimes just moving to prepare your own food was tiring, but you knew better than to try and lie to him, so you didn’t.

It was kind of nice. Annoying, but nice. But, of course, there were the embarrassing moments that came with having him around 24/7.

Like the time you walked into the living room, only to find him casually folding your clothes—including your underwear.

“Jaemin!” you shrieked, nearly tripping over your own foot.

He barely blinked, holding up a pair of lace-trimmed bras with a considering look. “Are these new?”

“Oh my god, drop them!”

Jaemin chuckled, but thankfully, he did as you said. “Relax. It’s just laundry. It’s not like I haven’t seen a bra before.”

Then there was the time you walked out of your room in the morning, still half-asleep, only to find Jaemin in nothing but a towel, casually walking out of the bathroom. You froze.

Jaemin, completely unfazed, rubbed his damp hair with another towel. “Morning.”

You closed your eyes shut, looking away dramatically. “What the hell?! Put some clothes on!”

He snorted. “Don’t like it, don’t look.”

“Excuse me? This is my apartment! I don’t need to see—” You cut yourself off before you could make things worse, groaning into your hands. “God, just—just go.”

Jaemin laughed as he padded past you toward the spare room. “Noted.” It was a nightmare.

When you were finally able to attend classes again, Jaemin always walked there with you. He made it look casual, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shrugging whenever you pointed it out. “What? We have almost the same schedule.”

You didn’t. And yet, every day, he was there, waiting for you to get ready, carrying your bag when he thought you looked too tired, making sure you got back home without a hitch.

Around the apartment, he was everywhere. You’d be brushing your teeth in the bathroom, and he’d be leaning against the doorway, scrolling through his phone like he had nowhere better to be. You’d be on the couch, flipping through channels, and he’d plop down beside you, stealing the remote.

When he cooked dinner, he’d make you sit on the counter, keeping you close while he moved around the kitchen like it was his. “I swear, if you don’t start eating better, I’m gonna move in permanently,” he’d threaten, flicking water at you when you teased him about being a housewife.

“You don’t have to do all this, you know,” you told him one evening, watching as he washed the dishes.

Jaemin didn’t look up. “I know.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

He glanced at you over his shoulder with a small, knowing smile on his lips. “Because I want to.”

You stared at him for a second before shaking your head. “Suit yourself. I’m not complaining about a clean house and good food.”

Jaemin just chuckled. “You can admit you like having me around. Don’t be shy.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. He was right, but he’d never catch you admitting that out loud. Not to his face at least.

Before you knew it, two weeks had passed. Your ankle had fully healed, and Jaemin—your self-appointed live-in nurse and housewife—was finally packing up his things. You stood by his bedroom door, watching him fold his clothes neatly in place.

“What are you doing?” you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral.

Jaemin hummed, tossing a hoodie into his duffel bag. “Getting my stuff ready. I’m moving back to the dorm by the end of the day.”

You knew this was coming. It wasn’t like he was living with you permanently. But for some reason, you didn’t like hearing it out loud.

The idea of your apartment returning to its usual emptiness made you uncomfortable. No more clinking in the kitchen in the early morning, no more stolen bites from your plate, no more Jaemin casually invading your space like it was his own. Loneliness slowly crept into your chest at the idea.

But you didn’t tell him that.

By the time you stepped out of the apartment, the morning sun was warm against your skin, and Jaemin was walking beside you like he had been doing in the last few days. It had become routine—leaving together, arriving together. For the past two weeks, Jaemin had been around every moment of the day, making sure you ate, getting you to class, sticking around like a permanent fixture in your life. And now, just like that, he was packing up.

You glanced at him, the strap of his bag slung over his shoulder. It felt strange, knowing he wouldn’t be there tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after that. The thought unsettled you more than it should. Trying not to dwell on it, you cleared your throat. “What’s the college dorm like?”

Jaemin scoffed. “Let’s see… bunk beds that creak every time you move. Paper-thin walls so you hear everything. People talking, snoring, doing… other things.” He grimaced. “Shared bathrooms, too. It’s an experience, to say the least.”

You made a face. “That sounds awful.”

“It is,” Jaemin confirmed, kicking a loose pebble on the sidewalk. “And my roommate? Dude never cleaned up after himself. I swear, I did all the work.”

“That sucks.” You hummed thoughtfully. “Must be nice having your own space for the past two weeks, huh?”

Jaemin shot you a look, catching on just a little. “I guess.”

“You guess?” You raised a brow. “I mean, you had a whole kitchen. A clean bathroom. Nobody snoring in the same room as you.”

Jaemin let out a soft chuckle. “Are you trying to make a point?”

“Nope. Just making conversation.” You shrugged, keeping your expression neutral.

He rolled his eyes, but there was amusement dancing in them. “Right.”

You left it at that, but something about the conversation must have stuck, because at lunch, Jaemin was still talking about it. He was talking when you joined them at the cafeteria, casually sliding into the seat next to him.

“What are you guys talking about?” you asked, although you already heard snippets of their conversation.

“Jaemin’s moving back to the dorms today,” Karina said, sighing. “We’re wishing him luck.”

“Why would you willingly go back?” Giselle added, incredulous. “Dorm life is hell. It’s literally just a shoebox with a bed.”

“And you can hear everything,” Renjun chimed in. “My friend used to hear his neighbor watch porn and masturbate at two in the morning.”

Everyone at your table groaned in unison. Giselle dramatically covered her mouth as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “That word in your mouth, Renjun? I can’t believe it!”

“What? Masturbate?”

You all groaned again. At this point, Giselle was fake-sobbing on Karina’s shoulder. “My sweet innocent Renjun. Jaemin, what have you been teaching my baby?” she pointed an accusatory finger at Jaemin.

“I’m literally half a year older than you,” Renjun deadpanned.

Your table was chaotic as usual, but your mind was elsewhere, focusing on Jaemin and the fact that he won’t be around after today.

And that afternoon after classes were over, you leaned against the doorway of the spare bedroom, watching Jaemin zip up his duffel bag. He moved around the room, gathering the last of his things, a hoodie hanging on the back of the door, his camera resting on the desk, a pair of socks he’d somehow left on the floor.

It was expected, of course. He was always going to leave. That was the deal. But standing there, watching him pack, you felt the reality of it settle in your chest in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

You sighed without meaning to. Jaemin didn’t turn at first, but when he finally did, he smirked. “Why do you look so upset? Gonna miss me when I’m gone?”

“I’m not upset,” you said quickly, arms crossing over your chest. “I was just worried you’d have a hard time when you’re back in the dorms.”

Jaemin huffed out a small laugh. “I’ve lived there since freshman year. I’ll survive.”

You knew that. You weren’t actually worried about him adjusting. He was fine there before. He’d be fine again. But would you? Would you be okay when the small ray of sunshine that had been brightening up your space for the last two weeks disappeared?

You hesitated. The words forming in your head felt too heavy, too exposing. You weren’t even sure you wanted to say them. And yet, before you could think better of it, they slipped out anyway. “You don’t have to leave.”

Jaemin paused, his hands holding the zipper of his bag. “What do you mean?”

You swallowed, shifting on your feet. You could leave it at that. Brush it off, pretend you meant something else. But he was already looking at you, waiting.

“You heard me,” you muttered, looking away.

Jaemin tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I did, but I’m not sure I’m understanding it correctly.”

Heat prickled at your skin. This was exactly why you didn’t want to say it. He was just gonna tease you about it. Annoyed, embarrassed, and already regretting this, you huffed. “I said I want you to stay. Don’t go back to the dorms. Just go get your stuff and stay here.”

Jaemin laughed. “Oh, you want me to stay—” He trailed off as his eyes met yours. His amusement faded slightly when he realized you weren’t laughing. “You’re serious?”

You dropped your gaze, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “Yeah.”

“I don’t think you understand what it would mean if I stayed here,” he said softly, searching your face. “That means I have to live here with you, in your space. You’ll have to see me everyday until the semester is over.”

“I know that. It’s not like I’m doing this for free. We can split the rent and other bills. I’ll buy the groceries, you make sure to make food. I’ll lend you my linens and other stuff, you make sure they’re clean.”

“Why are you okay with this?”

You exhaled slowly, staring at the floor like the answer might be there.

Because the apartment would be too quiet without him. Because the past two weeks had been easier, and brighter, less mundane and less dull. Because you’d gotten used to him being there, to the sound of him moving around, to the way he always had something to say.

But admitting that felt like too much. So instead, you shrugged, forcing nonchalance into your voice. “Because I’m anemic and low on sugar. Someone’s gotta make sure I’m well-fed and healthy.”

Jaemin chuckled heartily, sighing as he gave you an affectionate look. He always did that when he found you cute or endearing, and it always annoyed you because it made you feel like a child.

“If you don’t want to then, forget it,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “Go back to your bunk bed and dirty roommate, I guess.”

“Fine. I’m staying. But only because you forced me to,” he teased, opening his bag again and emptying it.

You stomped toward him, slapping his shoulder. “I did not!”

“Sure, you didn’t.”

You scoffed, annoyed and wondering if you could still take it back. But your heart is lighter now, more at ease. “You better not say that to the girls when they ask about this.”

“I don’t know,” he said in a sing-song. “I might. I might not.”

Living with Jaemin wasn’t all that different from when he was just temporarily staying over. It still came with the same pros: warm food every day, a perpetually clean kitchen, and the added bonus of a personal bodyguard whenever you had to walk home late. But, of course, the same cons remained—the casual half-nakedness, and the occasional mixing of laundry that resulted in you pulling one of his boxers out of your pile.

He changed the spare bedroom completely, swapping out your plain beddings for something that matched his aesthetic better—earthy tones and soft fabrics, the kind that looked straight out of a home decor catalog. He put up posters on the walls, ones he must’ve had in storage, and his toiletries now sat next to yours in the bathroom cabinet. It was still your apartment, but it was slowly becoming his home too.

For the most part, it was nice.

One evening, as you got ready to head out, Giselle came over, letting herself in as usual. She plopped down on your couch, watching as you moved around the apartment, gathering your things.

“Hey, did Jaemin leave already?” she asked, eyeing the shoes by the door—his shoes.

You glanced at her, then back at the bedroom door that was slightly ajar, revealing the edge of his neatly made bed. “Oh, no. He lives here now.”

Giselle blinked. “Permanently?”

“Yeah.” You pulled on a jacket, smoothing it out in the mirror. “He figured it was better than the dorms, so he just moved in.”

Giselle let out a low whistle. “Damn. I’m kinda jealous. I want a live-in housemaid who cooks for me every day too.”

You laughed. “He’s not a housemaid.”

“But still.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head in thought. “Isn’t it weird, though?”

“What?”

“Living with a guy,” she said. “Like, you’re a girl. He’s a guy. Isn’t that… I don’t know, weird?”

You made a face. “We’ve known each other since we were fourteen, Giselle. I don’t see him like that.”

“Huh.” She tapped a finger against her chin, thinking. “So girls and boys can really be just friends.”

“Of course. Why is that even an argument?” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“I mean, I always figured it was possible,” she mused. “But you guys aren’t just friends. You’re like…” She gestured vaguely, searching for the right words. Then, she snapped her fingers. “You’re soulmates. Platonic soulmates, but still soulmates.”

You snorted. “Soulmates?”

“Yeah. You guys are practically an old married couple without the romance.” She grinned. “It’s honestly kinda cute.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t argue. Because, well, maybe she had a point.

The party was louder than you remembered parties being. Maybe it had just been a while, or maybe you were out of practice, but for the first hour, you found yourself unable to keep up with the energy around you. People moved in and out of conversations effortlessly, the music pulsed through the space, and the air was thick with the familiar mix of sweat, alcohol, and perfume.

It felt new again, being surrounded like this, caught up in the rhythm of a rowdy crowd. You sipped at your drink, letting yourself ease into it.

As you looked around, the memories of the past summer came registering into your mind’s view. The last time you'd felt this kind of buzz was that summer in Mykonos. You hadn’t thought about it much in a while, but now, under the neon lights and the noise, your memories brought you back to those days. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t sad or upsetting to remember that phase. In fact, you almost laughed at yourself, recalling just how much fun you’d had back then.

You’d been reckless. Maybe a little foolish. Definitely unhinged at times.

Donghyuck crossed your mind, slipping into the memory as easily as he had slipped into your life back then. That summer had been a whirlwind, the two of you burning through it like a fire neither of you had tried to put out. You wondered how he was doing. If he ever thought about that summer. If he ever thought about you.

Before you could dwell on it for too long, a hand grabbed yours. It was Giselle, grinning at you as he tugged you further into the house. “Come on!”

“Where are we—”

Karina appeared on your other side, looping her arm around yours. “Drinking game. Let’s go.”

You barely had a chance to protest before they dragged you into a circle of students, their laughter and cheers carrying over the loud music and chatter. Someone handed you a shot. The game was in full swing—a card game of truth or take a shot.

You participated, not because you wanted to, but because you were already there. It carried on, drinks passing from hand to hand, each question peeling back another layer of someone's carefully curated image. You laughed as someone admitted to sending an embarrassing drunk text the night before, and winced when another revealed they had been caught sneaking a boy into their apartment by their roommate’s mom.

Then, it was your turn, which surprised you a little. You thought the chances of getting picked was low, given the large number of people participating in the game. But here you are.

“Who’s the last person you kissed?” said someone who was reading the card you’d picked, and the circle immediately leaned in, eager for the answer.

You hesitated, warmth creeping up your neck. The answer should have come easily, but instead, your mind drew a complete blank.

“Well?” Giselle pressed.

You shifted in your seat. “No one.”

That didn’t satisfy them. “Come on, be serious.”

“I am being serious,” you insisted. “I haven’t kissed anyone recently.”

The group groaned in disappointment, and someone called out, “Boring!” You only rolled your eyes, but before you could deflect, another question landed in your lap.

“What about your first kiss?”

You laughed, relieved it wasn’t about the present anymore. “That was back in high school,” you said lightly. “You probably wouldn’t even know them.”

But the moment the words left your mouth, your gaze flickered across the room, drawn almost instinctively to Jaemin. He was standing far across the hall, deep in conversation, laughing with his friends.

And then it hit you. Jaemin. Your first kiss had been Jaemin. A sharp gasp left your lips.

The realization knocked into you like a gust of wind, rattling your brain, unearthing a memory you hadn’t even realized you’d buried. The circle of people blurred into static noise as your pulse pounded in your ears. Without thinking, you rose to your feet.

“Hey! Where are you—”

“Bathroom,” you blurted, before turning and walking—no, running—out of the room.

You didn’t stop until you reached the garden area of the house, stepping into the cooler night air. The party still pulsed behind you, but out here, it was less stuffy, easier to breathe.

You held onto the edge of a patio table as you tried to process what had just resurfaced. How could you have forgotten something like that? How had it just slipped from your memory as if it never happened?

Jaemin had been your first kiss. Not some crush, not a random guy at a party. Jaemin.

The thought sent your brain into overdrive. It must have been casual, right? A stupid teenage thing. A dare? A joke? You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to summon the exact details, but all you got were flashes—his face close to yours, the stuffy in the air, the way he’d grinned afterward.

You let out a breath, feeling slightly light-headed. And then you heard a familiar voice calling your name behind you.

“Are you okay?” You turned, and there he was. Jaemin, stepping onto the patio, his head tilting slightly in concern.

You straightened immediately, forcing a neutral expression. “Yeah. Just needed some air.”

Jaemin didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t press. Instead, he eyed you for a moment before asking, “Have you been drinking?”

You hesitated before nodding. “A little.”

He narrowed his eyes on you. “You know you’re not supposed to drink, right?”

You chuckled lightly, rolling your eyes just a little. “I’m allowed to drink, Jaemin. And besides, I’m all better now. I didn’t even need to go to rehab and I’m off therapy.”

Jaemin shrugged, stuffing his hands in hi pockets. “Yeah, but it won’t hurt to be careful. You don’t seem that well to me.”

You understood what he meant. While it was true that the events of that summer no longer haunted you, you hadn’t reverted back to your old easy-going, and happy self. This was probably just a phase, a transition period because blending back seamlessly wasn’t as easy as people made it out to be. But you knew in your heart that you were all better now, you were simply adjusting.

Silence settled between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… lingering. There was something on the tip of your tongue, something you wanted to ask, but you didn’t.

Instead, you inhaled slowly, pushing the thought away. “I’m heading back in,” you said.

Jaemin nodded, stepping aside to let you pass. As you walked back inside, the memory of your first kiss still sat heavy in your chest. It was back now, no longer buried. And you had no idea what to do with it.

You had hoped that unearthing a memory as important as your first kiss wouldn’t affect your life. But it did, funnily enough. Now, you couldn’t look Jaemin in the eye or act normally around him. It was awkward, and you knew he could feel it too. He was just nice enough not to ask questions. Or maybe he knew he hadn’t done anything to cause this, so he wasn’t bothered at all.

You, however, were very much bothered.

As you sat on the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone, your gaze kept drifting toward Jaemin. He was vacuuming the apartment like nothing had changed, like you hadn’t just recovered a lost piece of your history together. Did he remember that night? Or had he forgotten, just like you had?

You could still see it so clearly now. Some summer party when you were sixteen. The two of you, shoved into a cramped closet for a round of Seven Minutes in Heaven.

“We’re not gonna do it,” you’d said immediately. “Obviously, we’re not gonna do it.”

Jaemin had shrugged. “Let’s just let the seven minutes pass and we’re out of here.”

“Yeah,” you’d agreed. But you’d been restless, hugging your arms around yourself, picking at the sleeve of your dress.

The closet had been stuffy, filled with the scent of old coats and lingering perfume. You’d had a few bottles of beer and cups of whatever mix of alcohol and softdrinks the jocks had concocted earlier. You’d been hot and light-headed. So when he shifted slightly and his elbow nudged your arm, you had looked up at him ready to snap and say something mean like you always did.

But you couldn’t. The words died in your throat when you were met by his eyes, striking in the glow of your phone’s flashlight, staring back at you. The same eyes that had always been so easy to read—except, for the first time, you weren’t sure what you were seeing.

“Just one?” you blurted before you could even stop yourself.

Jaemin moved to face you fully. “Just one,” he said, already reaching to cup your face and kiss your lips.

It was just one, as agreed. As soon as his mouth touched yours, something in you had caved. The kiss had stolen the air out of your lungs, and erased the rationality in your head. That one kiss had you gripping the back of his neck, fingers curling against his hair as you pulled him closer for more. His hands on your hips were firm, keeping you steady as you felt your knees go weak with the sensation of his lips.

It was just one kiss. But it was one hell of a kiss. And yet, somehow, you’d managed to forget it ever happened—until now.

“Hey.” Jaemin’s voice yanked you back to the present.

You blinked, vision coming back into focus. He was standing in front of you now, the vacuum off, watching you with mild concern. His hand was on your arm.

“Huh?” you said, stupidly.

His brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

Panic flared up in your chest. His touch felt too warm, too familiar, and suddenly, it was all too much. You swatted his hand away, bolted up from the couch, and rushed straight into your room.

You told yourself it was no big deal. Just a long-forgotten memory, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It shouldn’t change anything. It didn’t mean anything.

But no matter how much you tried to push it out of your mind, you couldn’t. It was like Jaemin had been put under a magnifying glass—every little thing about him suddenly too noticeable, too distracting.

Like the way his voice softened when he called your name. Or how his sweater sleeves were always pushed up to his elbows, exposing his forearms. Or the way he laughed, nose scrunching, eyes disappearing. Or, most annoyingly, how effortlessly attractive he was.

That hadn’t been a new observation, obviously. You always knew Jaemin was handsome. It was just a fact. But suddenly, it was something you were aware of in a way you had never been before. Suddenly, you were attracted to this handsomeness and it was infuriating.

The worst moment, by far, had been a few days ago. You had been curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when Jaemin had stepped out of the bathroom—fresh from a shower, towel slung around his neck, with his messy damp hair falling over his forehead. And, of course, because the universe was cruel, he had been shirtless.

You hadn’t meant to stare, but you did.

It was impossible not to when his toned muscles were right there, his defined chest and abs on full display as he wiped at his hair. You knew he was ripped. You knew he had been going to gym consistently, putting in the work to maintain his physique. But you hadn’t given it any attention until right now.

He glanced up mid-rub, catching you staring blatantly with wide eyes. “What?” he asked, smirking.

“Nothing,” you blurted, whipping your gaze away so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. Your ears burned. You buried your face back into your phone, scrolling blindly, hoping the ground would swallow you whole.

Jaemin just laughed, shaking his head as he walked into his room. But you were left with the horrifying realization that you had just ogled your best friend.

And it wasn’t just that. It was everything that used to be so normal, so second-nature.

The way he absentmindedly ruffled your hair, the way he leaned in close when talking, the way he smelled—clean, fresh, woodsy—a mix that smelled distinctly Jaemin. You found yourself noticing things you never paid attention to before. And the more you noticed, the more your brain kept circling back to that memory—of being sixteen, of being in that closet, of his lips on yours.

Jaemin noticed eventually. He noticed how you avoided his gaze, how you stiffened when he casually draped an arm over your shoulders like he always had. He noticed how you started keeping just enough distance between you, subtly leaning away when he got too close.

At first, he didn’t seem to think much of it—maybe just a weird mood, something that would pass. But when it didn’t, when you kept acting like a skittish cat whenever he so much as looked at you for too long, his patience finally ran out.

He caught you by the wrist one afternoon, stopping you just as you were about to escape into your room after he sat too close to you in the couch and you scooted away like you were terrified of him.

“Okay, what’s going on with you?” he asked, brows furrowed.

Your heart jumped to your throat. “Nothing.”

His grip was loose enough that you could pull away if you wanted, but his stare pinned you in place. “You’ve been acting weird.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said quickly. Too quickly.

Jaemin scoffed, giving you a look that said he wasn’t buying it for a second. “Yeah, okay,” he said, tone dripping with sarcasm. “If you’re just gonna act like I’m gonna devour you each time I so much as look at you, why did you ask to live together?”

“Live together?” you echoed, his choice of words making your brain short-circuit. “We’re not living together. We’re sharing an apartment.”

“Yeah, that’s what living together means. I— That’s not the point,” he stopped and sighed, letting you go and placing his hands on his waist. “What did I do? Tell me so I can apologize and we can get over it.”

Tell him? Tell him? How were you supposed to tell him that you’d just remembered your first kiss with him and it was making you all giddy and nervous when he was near? You couldn’t possibly say that to your best friend of all people!

You opened your mouth to argue, to deny, to brush it off, but luckily, salvation arrived in the form of your friends ringing the doorbell.

“That’s the girls,” you said, making a break for the door before he could stop you again. “We’re seeing Ningning today. I’ll be home late, so no need to make me dinner.”

Jaemin let out a frustrated sigh behind you. “Call me if you need me to pick you up.”

“I will,” you replied, but you didn’t look back. You definitely will not call him to pick you up.

Café dates with your friends were usually a safe space, a break from the chaos of college life. But today, your mind was still preoccupied, and no matter how hard you tried to be present, you kept zoning out, stirring your iced coffee with the straw until the ice had almost completely melted.

“You’re quiet today,” Karina noted, giving you a curious look.

You blinked, forcing a smile. “Huh? No, I’m fine.”

“You literally just sighed to yourself,” Ningning said flatly.

Giselle narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been acting weird since we got here. Spill it.”

You hesitated. Admitting this out loud made it feel too real. But the three of them were staring at you like interrogators, and you knew they weren’t going to let this go.

You exhaled, deciding to rip the band-aid off. “I’ve been thinking about something weird lately.”

Giselle leaned in, interested. “Weird how?”

You bit your lip, hesitating for just a second before blurting, “I just—” You exhaled sharply. “I just remembered that Jaemin was my first kiss.”

“WHAT?”

Their voices were too loud that it drew attention from the nearby tables. You winced, shushing them in a panic. “Hey, keep it down.”

“You just dropped a bomb on us, what do you expect?” Ningning whisper-yelled, looking personally offended that she was only learning this now.

Karina gaped at you. “Jaemin was your first kiss? How are you best friends with your first kiss?”

“I kinda forgot about it,” you admitted sheepishly. “It happened in high school. And I didn’t remember until recently.”

They exchanged looks, intrigue and disbelief dancing on their faces. Giselle was the first to recover. “Okay, wait. So, was it like, an actual kiss kiss? Or one of those lame pecks?”

You opened your mouth to answer but suddenly remembered just how intense it had actually been. Your face burned. Karina gasped. “Oh my god! It was a real kiss, wasn’t it?”

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Can we not?”

“No, we absolutely can,” Ningning said, practically buzzing. “So? What does this mean? Do you—” she wiggled her brows, “—like him?”

“What? No!” you said immediately, way too defensive. “We were sixteen and dumb, playing seven minutes in heaven. I just— It’s weird, okay? It’s weird that I didn’t remember it, and now that I do, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

They exchanged another round of knowing looks. You hated it. “Guys, stop making me nervous.”

Ningning leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Okay, but think about it. You’ve lived with Jaemin for how long now? Three weeks? And now is when you suddenly remember this? What if your brain suppressed it because it meant something?”

You gave her a deadpan look. “Yeah, I totally repressed my first kiss because I was secretly in love with Jaemin all this time. That makes so much sense.”

Karina tapped her nails against the table. “Actually, she has a point. You said you forgot it happened, right? But then all of a sudden, it just comes back out of nowhere? Why? What triggered it?”

You hesitated. “Remember last week when we were playing a game at the party? And you guys asked me about my first kiss?” They nodded. “Yeah, that’s when it came back to me. Now I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve been acting all weird around him and he’s starting to notice.”

Karina’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, wait. What if the reason you forgot about it was because it would have changed the way you saw him back then? And now that you remembered it, you can’t unsee it because it’s been so long and he’s changed and you’ve changed and now he’s—”

“Hot,” Giselle finished, giving Karina a high-five after.

“Don’t say that,” you groaned.

“What? Hot?” Giselle snickered. “Why not? Jaemin is hot. Have you seen him?”

Karina grinned beside you. “Of course she’s seen him. They see each other 24/7 now.”

Ningning, just to fan the fire, said, “Bet he walks around shirtless after a shower.”

“Or when he gets back from the gym,” Giselle added, making all the girls oooh and fan their faces.

You stared at them, horrified. “You’re all insane.”

“Maybe, but you’re not saying we’re wrong,” Ningning said smugly. “Come on, babe. It’s okay to admit it. You like him. You want to kiss him again.”

“You guys are giving way too much meaning to something that happened years ago,” you insisted.

“Are we, though?” Giselle challenged. “Because we’re not the ones acting weird around our best friend over ‘something that happened years ago’,” she added, mimicking that way you spoke.

Karina tilted her head. "Yeah, why do you think that is?”

You opened your mouth to answer but came up empty. Because, ugh, they did have a point. It was just a kiss—one from years ago—but if it really was that meaningless, why were you spiraling?

“Wait, what about him?” Ningning prompted. “Does he remember that? Did he know that was your first kiss?”

Your stomach flipped at the question. “I’m not sure. I don’t think we ever talked about it.”

“What if,” Karina said, narrowing her eyes, “he remembers, but he never tried anything with you because he knows if you two cross that line, it changes everything.”

That thought sat uneasily in your chest. Giselle leaned back. “So. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing,” you said immediately.

They groaned in unison. “You have to at least ask him,” Ningning urged.

“Why? That’s just gonna make things weirder.”

“What’s weird is that you’re spiraling over this instead of just asking,” Giselle pointed out.

Karina agreed. “Yeah. What if this is your ‘childhood best friends to lovers’ arc?”

You shot her a look. “This is not a K-drama.”

“But it could be.”

You let out a deep sigh, shaking your head. “Look, I’ll think about it, okay? But I’m not just gonna randomly ask him if he remembers a kiss from when we were sixteen.”

“You won’t have to,” Karina chimed. “We’ll help you figure out the perfect way to bring it up.”

You had a feeling you were going to regret this.

Giselle smirked, stirring her drink. “See, this is why I always say men and women can’t be just friends.”

“We totally can,” you countered.

“Sure, whatever,” she said, unimpressed. “But at some point in every guy-girl friendship, there’s gonna be a small phase where one of them saw the other romantically. Or, in your case, had a history of sharing something as special as a first kiss.”

Your friends began teasing you about it. You could only frown and say nothing. Because, for the first time, you weren’t entirely sure if she was wrong.

Mark Lee was the last person you expected to run into.

You had been walking back to your apartment, your mind still agonizing about your conversation with your friends. The moment you spotted him, standing by the trunk of a car and hoisting a duffel bag over his shoulder, you almost gasped.

“Mark?” you called out, making him glance at you.

His face lit up in recognition. “No way. Look who it is.”

You walked towards him, smiling. “Hi.”

He shut the trunk with a firm thud and slung his bag higher onto his shoulder, his eyes scanning you briefly. “It’s been a while. You still live here?”

“Yeah,” you said. “You?”

“Nah, I’m actually moving out,” Mark replied. “I graduated last semester.”

Your brows lifted slightly. “Oh. Congratulations. I almost forgot you were a year ahead of us.”

“Thanks.” He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Feels weird, though. Like, I don’t think it’s hit me yet that I’m actually done with college.

“Four years of studying will probably do that to you,” you replied, chuckling.

“Four and a half for me,” he said, shaking his head.

You just nodded, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. A comfortable silence settled between you. It was nice seeing him, but now that you were talking to him, you realized you really didn’t have anything in common that you could talk about. You weren’t in the same circle of friends, nor were you particularly close. The only connection you had with him was Donghyuck.

“Hey, uh…” You saw hesitation flicker across his face before he offered a small smile. “I heard about Mykonos, Donghyuck and… everything.”

“Oh.” You froze, huffing a small laugh. “Yeah. That happened.”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course. I’m fine. I’m fine now. I wasn’t but, I am now,” you explained, not wanting to divulge more. You didn’t want to ask. You could’ve just left it at that—just another casual encounter with an old neighbor. But before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out.

“How is he? Donghyuck…”

Mark shrugged as if he was expecting you to ask that. “He’s fine, I think. He’s studying there and actually putting in the work to get good grades. We text here and there, and I saw him when I went home after graduation. He looks the same, still insufferable and an idiot, but… he’s okay.”

A strange feeling settled in your chest—something between relief and disappointment. Mark must have sensed something because he tilted his head slightly and showed a ‘calling’ gesture with his hand. “You wanna—?”

“No.” You cut him off before he could even suggest it. “It’s for the best.”

Mark let out a soft chuckle. “Alright. Well, I’ll tell him you said hi.”

You nodded. “Yeah. Thanks. Take care, Mark.”

“You too.” And just like that, another piece of Donghyuck slipped through your fingers.

When you stepped into your apartment, the silence was almost jarring. No sounds of Jaemin humming to himself in the kitchen. No sight of him sprawled on the couch watching something ridiculous. The place felt... empty.

For a second, you thought maybe he was out. Then, you spotted his shoes by the door and figured he must be sleeping. Good. You weren’t in the mood to interact.

You went straight to your room, shedding your jacket and tossing your bag onto the chair. The moment you entered the bathroom, you turned the shower on, letting the water heat up as you pulled off your clothes. Under the spray, you closed your eyes, tilting your head back as the warmth soaked into your skin.

Donghyuck.

It hasn’t even been a year, yet somehow, it felt longer than that. You used to be neighbors. It used to annoy you when Donghyuck brought girls over, when the sounds of them having sex echoed faintly through your walls. That was before you knew what it was like to spend an entire summer with him—before you knew what it was like to fall into something messy and thrilling and impossible to forget.

You exhaled sharply and shut off the water. It was enough to know that he was doing well. That he was living his life properly. You weren’t hurt by what happened anymore, surprisingly. But a part of you still wished you were able to talk to him before he left. You deserved a proper goodbye. Especially with the scars left by that fateful event.

“Tragic,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing the scar on your elbow.

The bathroom was still warm with steam when you stepped out, a towel wrapped loosely around your body. Water dripped from your damp hair, trailing down your shoulders, but you barely noticed. Your thoughts were still in the past. You needed something to calm your nerves. Maybe tea.

You crossed the hallway to the kitchen, moving straight to the overhead cupboard. You stretched up on your toes, fingers barely grazing the box of tea on the top shelf but you couldn’t get it. Annoying. You tried again, straining a little harder but then suddenly, something brushed against your back.

You stiffened, breath catching as you turned only to find yourself face-to-face with Jaemin. Or rather, face-to-chest.

He had stepped up behind you so quietly you hadn’t even noticed, one arm reaching past you to grab the tea. His other hand rested against the counter beside you, blocking you in without even realizing it.

Your gaze flickered up just as he glanced down, and that’s when you realized how close you were. He was close. Really close.

His face was just inches from yours, close enough that you could catch the familiar scent of his detergent mixed with something distinctly him. His chest barely touched yours, but you felt every shift, every breath. The towel around you suddenly felt too thin.

Jaemin held the tea between you, as if just now realizing the way you were staring at him.

But instead of taking it, you asked, “Do you remember the time we played Seven Minutes in Heaven?”

You caught the small shift in his expression. Surely he’d know which specific time you were talking about right? If he remembered that kiss at all, surely he wouldn’t be confused and assume you were talking about all the times you’d played seven minutes in heaven?

But his response came quickly and with certainty. “I do.”

Your eyes traced his features, noting the way his gaze flickered downward to your chest, a split-second slip before he caught himself and turned his head slightly, jaw tensing. Your chest rose with a shallow breath.

“Did you know that was my first kiss?”

Jaemin was still looking away, but you saw his throat bob as he swallowed. “I think you mentioned it,” he admitted.

Your fingers twitched before you lifted a hand to his cheek, your palm grazing the sharp line of his jaw before settling at the curve of his neck. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and his pulse was steady but strong.

“Then why did we both forget it ever happened?” you asked softly, eyes fixed on his lips, so close and so inviting.

Jaemin finally met your gaze. His lips parted as if to say something, but then he stopped. His eyes lowered, and when he looked at you again, his expression had changed.

“I didn’t forget.”

The words sent warmth through you. Your heart pounded in your ears as your fingers pressed lightly against his skin. Something about the way he was looking at you made it impossible to breathe, impossible to think. So you did the only thing your body seemed to understand at that moment—you rose to your tiptoes and kissed him.

Jaemin didn’t hesitate. His hands found your waist as he pulled you flush against him, his lips molding against yours, deep and persistent. Heat prickled at your skin, your fingers tightening in his hair as you tugged him closer for more. His grip on you was firm and possessive, and for a moment, nothing else mattered but the way he was kissing you back.

Then a voice in your head screamed at you to stop.

You pushed him away, breathless, panic creeping into your heart as your hands pressed firmly on his chest. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

The words came out fast and desperate, but it sounded more like a statement to yourself than to him. Jaemin backed away, studying your face as he nodded slowly.

“Okay,” he breathed, and you weren’t sure if he meant it because it was impossible to read the expression on his face.

Either way, you didn’t have time to dwell on it. You held your towel in place and walked away.

Jaemin didn’t argue. He didn’t try to stop you as you turned and hurried away, leaving behind the forgotten tea and the line you’d crossed to the point of no return.

The next morning, you did what any sane person would do—you pretended last night never happened.

You took your time getting out of bed, hoping that by the time you stepped into the kitchen, Jaemin would be gone. No such luck. He was sitting on the couch in the living room, looking relaxed and unbothered, like he hadn’t kissed you breathless in the kitchen less than twelve hours ago.

You ignored him. Moving around the kitchen, you focused on your routine—heat up leftovers, pour yourself some water, avoid looking in his direction. But you could feel his gaze on you, lazy and knowing, like he was waiting for something.

When you reached for a mug, his voice cut through the quiet. “The tea’s in the drawer. In case you want it.”

Your fingers twitched. You didn’t turn around, didn’t react, but you heard the insinuation in his tone, the meaning hiding between the lines. Still, you said nothing. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction

Later that day, you met up with your friends at the quad, lounging on the grass as the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky. The conversation was light and fun, and for a moment, you were free from the clutches of Jaemin’s infuriatingly charming grin.

That is until he came strutting in with Renjun, drinks in hand.

Renjun handed the drink one-by-one. He’d asked if you girls wanted something from the cafe while he was there, so you texted him your orders. But now that he was handing you the iced tea you asked for, you hesitated to accept it.

“I’ll have coffee instead,” you said, pushing the drink back toward him.

Renjun frowned. “What? But you asked for iced tea? Honey lemon, right?”

Yes, right. But that was before you knew he’d be coming back with Na Jaemin. “I changed my mind.”

Jaemin, who had been watching the exchange, chuckled under his breath. “You don’t want your tea?” You shot him a warning glare, but he only smiled. He took his coffee and held it out to you instead. “Here, you can have mine. I’ll take the tea.”

You didn’t want to take anything from him, but declining again would make it obvious. So you exhaled sharply and snatched the cup from his hand, ignoring the way he grinned. Then, just as you took a sip, Jaemin said,

“You sure you don’t want your tea? You seemed pretty desperate for it last night.”

You nearly choked. Your grip on the cup tightened as heat flared up your cheeks. Jaemin only sipped his drink, looking perfectly fine while you struggled not to just go ahead and strangle him.

Before you could say anything, Giselle, who had been oblivious to the tension, turned to the group with a casual, “So, what were you guys like in high school?”

Karina, clearly picking up on her intention, hummed in thought. “High school me? Pretty boring, honestly. I was too busy studying to get a proper life.”

“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t get kissed in high school?”

“I did, of course. But not as much as I wished,” Karina replied, shaking her head. “My first kiss was because of a dare.”

“So is mine,” Giselle added, glancing sideways at you. “It was with my crush, but I stopped liking him after because he was such a lousy kisser.”

Then she turned to Jaemin. “What about you? Do you remember yours?”

You froze, realizing right then what they were doing. They had promised to help you figure out if Jaemin remembered that kiss all those years ago. And judging by the direction of this conversation, this was the help they meant. Not that it was necessary anymore. You had already asked him yourself.

But you couldn’t exactly tell them that. So you stayed silent, waiting, heart pounding a little too fast as Jaemin leaned back on his hands.

And then, he looked right at you. “I don’t remember my first kiss, exactly,” he said smoothly. “I do remember kissing someone recently, though.”

Your stomach dropped. His words sent a jolt of something hot through your veins—half panic, half something you didn’t know you’d feel for your best friend. You stared at him, pulse thundering in your ears, as his lips curved into the slightest smirk.

You were going to kill him.

But not right now. You were gonna take your time and kill him with no witness. So for now, you kept your distance. Even as the day stretched on, even as Jaemin hovered near, you refused to acknowledge him. When it was his turn to talk, you busied yourself with your phone. When he laughed at something, you pretended not to hear. And when it was finally time to head home, you walked ahead, ignoring the way he naturally fell into step beside you.

He didn’t say anything about it. Not once did he call your name or try to slow you down. At the apartment, you swung the door open and stepped inside first, not bothering to hold it for him. You kicked off your shoes, tossed your bag onto the couch, and started toward your bedroom.

But then he called your name and that made your patience snap.

“What is wrong with you?” you huffed, gesturing at him.

Jaemin’s voice was teasing, “What? What did I do?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You keep bringing it up.”

Jaemin didn’t even blink. “Bringing what up?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You know what.”

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “I really don’t.”

You scoffed, stepping closer. “The kiss, Jaemin. You keep hinting at it. You were so obvious, you might as well have just announced it to everyone.”

Jaemin simply shrugged, the smirk on his lips irritating you more. “I wasn’t obvious. You’re the only one who noticed.”

“Why were you doing it in the first place?” you demanded, stepping right into his space. “I told you, that kiss didn’t mean anything.”

Jaemin’s gaze flickered. He stayed quiet for half a second too long before he closed the gap between you. You stepped back, suddenly nervous at how close he was being. He kept at it, stepping closer while you stepped back until your back hit your bedroom door.

“If it didn’t mean anything,” he said, voice slow and teasing, “why are you so worked up about it?”

You didn’t have an answer to that, and he knew it. He was watching you too closely, too carefully, catching the way your lips parted, then closed again.

So you did what you always did when backed into a corner. You brushed it off. “Just forget it ever happened,” you muttered, looking away.

Jaemin studied you for a second, then exhaled through his nose. “No.”

“Yes!” you insisted.

There was a long pause. Then, he sighed like he wasn’t happy about it but was willing to let you have this. “Fine.”

“Good.” You turned back toward your door, gripping the handle with a sigh of relief. But just as you started to push it open Jaemin tugged your wrist lightly, just enough to make you turn slightly toward him.

Eyes gleaming mischievously, he asked, “Wanna do it again?”

Heat shot up your cheeks, exasperation and something dangerously close to exhilaration rushing through you despite the fact that you should have been pissed.“Stop,” you said, exasperated, shoving the door closed in his face.

“Oh my god, stop it,” you muttered, slapping your palm on his chest and shoving the door closed in his face.

Only to rip it open a second later.

Jaemin barely had time to react because you quickly grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was deep, hot, and feverish. Jaemin responded instantly, hands firm on your waist as he backed you against the doorframe, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

It was intoxicating, dizzying—the way he kissed, the way he held you like he’d been waiting for this. But just before the moment took over completely, you pulled away, catching your breath.

Jaemin stared at you, lips parted, chest rising and falling. You stared into his eyes, then at his lips, biting your own as you savored the lingering sensations he’d left behind.

“You liked that?” he teased, catching the way you were looking at him. Flustered, you swallowed and quickly stepped back into your room, locking the door behind you before you could do something reckless again.

You leaned against it, heart racing, lips tingling, your skin still burning from the way he touched you. Then you heard him chuckle softly on the other side before he rapped his fist on the door, the sound startling you.

“You kissed me first, alright?” he called out, and you could almost hear the grin in his voice. “So you better not skip dinner because of this.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, biting back a smile. Then, with a quiet groan, you slid down to the floor, pressing your hands over your face and kicking your legs in the air as you tried your best not to squeal.

You told yourself it wouldn’t happen again. But then it did. It started small, so small that it was easy to pretend it was nothing. Like that morning in the kitchen when you were making coffee, and Jaemin leaned against the counter beside you, too close, as always. He watched as you poured sugar into your mug, his gaze intent and knowing.

“That’s too sweet,” he commented.

You paused, the spoon clinking against the ceramic. “It’s not. You just like yours bitter and sad.”

Jaemin hummed in amusement, then he said, “I like my coffee bitter, but I’ve been told many times that my kisses are very sweet.”

You scoffed, taking the spoon out of your mug and turning to raise an eyebrow at him. “You telling me you’ve kissed lots of people isn’t really convincing me to kiss you again.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to convince you yet,” he replied, grinning playfully. Without warning, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face. Then he leaned forward to press a soft peck on your cheek. “This is me convincing you.”

You stared at him, unimpressed, and took a step back with your mug. “Not working.”

Jaemin only smirked. You sighed, turning away to grab some bread from the overhead cupboard. The moment your fingers came up short, he stepped in behind you, reaching for it easily. You exhaled at sudden feeling of a deja vu.

He held it out casually. “Here.”

But when you reached for it, he pulled it back—just far enough to make you glare at him—before swooping in and stealing a kiss from your lips.

You froze, still gripping your coffee. Jaemin, meanwhile, took your other hand, placed the bread in it, and patted your head like nothing had happened. Then he walked away whistling, leaving you standing there, mildly annoyed.

You recovered quickly though, placing the mug and the bread on the countertop and trudging toward him with heavy steps. Jaemin noticed and turned to look at you with that stupid smirk he always had.

“Oh, hi. What are you—”

You grabbed his collar and pulled him down, cutting him off with your lips pressed firmly against his. It was deep and reckless, but only for a few seconds. When you pulled away, Jaemin looked shocked.

And then he smirked. “Oh,” he mused, tilting his head. “So now you’re playing my game?”

You scoffed, tightening your grip on his shirt. “What game?” you asked before kissing him again.

And from then on, it was like a challenge. In your shared apartment, in the moments in between, in the spaces where no one was watching—you both kept crossing that line, over and over again.

A stolen kiss behind the bookshelf at the library. A lazy makeout session in the empty hallway of your apartment when you both got home late. A whispered “You drive me crazy,” before Jaemin kissed you stupid against the fridge door one evening, his hands firm on your waist, your fingers tangling in his hair, neither of you stopping until the timer on the microwave beeped.

And through it all, neither of you ever talked about it. Because if you did—if you admitted how much you wanted it—you wouldn’t be able to stop. If you acknowledged what was really happening, you’d have to stop pretending that it was nothing. That it didn’t mean anything. And that was something you weren’t ready for.

And then there was that night on the couch.

It had started with an old movie playing on the TV, both of you sitting closely and sharing a blanket. Jaemin had his arm on the back of the couch, fingers idly playing with the strands of your hair. It was harmless at first, but then his fingers trailed down the back of your neck, light and slow, and you felt goosebumps all over your body.

You turned your head slightly to look at him, only to find that he was already staring at you. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were dark and focused. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but Jaemin was faster. His fingers tipped your chin, tilting your face toward his as he leaned in.

The first kiss was soft, almost hesitant. But then you sighed into it, melting just enough for him to take control. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, and before you knew it, you were on your back, Jaemin hovering over you without breaking the kiss.

The movie was forgotten, its noise fading into the background as the sound of your shallow breaths echoed in the room. His kisses trailed lower, grazing your jaw, all the way down to your throat. You gasped when he found a spot just beneath your ear, his teeth nipping at it before soothing the bite with his tongue.

“Jaemin,” you murmured, your fingers slipping into the back collar of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath.

“Mmh,” he hummed against your skin, not stopping.

His hands were already sliding under your sweater, warm against your bare skin. Your legs parted beneath him, your body arching into his touch before you could stop yourself.

And then when his hand dipped down to your lower abdomen, you tensed. Not because you didn’t want it, but because you did. Too much. Jaemin must have felt it because he paused immediately. His lips hovered over your collarbone, his breathing unsteady, before he finally pulled back just enough to look at you.

His voice was low when he asked, “Should we stop?”

You swallowed hard, nodding against your wishes. “Yeah. We probably should.”

Neither of you moved for a moment. His hands were still on you, your fingers brushing his back, and it would’ve been so easy to pull him back down, to let him keep going. But then he exhaled, forcing himself to sit up, and you followed, scooting to put a little space between you.

The movie was still playing, though neither of you paid it any attention. Jaemin ran a hand through his hair, glancing at you with a half-smirk, though his voice was rough when he spoke.

“We’re really bad at pretending this is nothing, you know.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head as you folded your legs beneath you. “You’re right. It’s ridiculous.”

And just like that, it was over. For now, at least.

There was a strange feeling in your chest lately, something you couldn’t quite put a name to. Like the rush of something new, conflicting with the pressure of something unresolved.

You had spent the past weeks trying not to think too hard about Jaemin, about the way your lips kept finding his, about how easy it was to pretend nothing had changed when, deep down, you knew everything had.

But pretending only worked for so long. Because no matter how much you tried to move forward, some things still followed behind you. Some things still had a hold on you, however faint. And just as you were starting to believe you had left it all in Mykonos, there he was.

Donghyuck.

Standing just outside the campus gates, hands in his pockets, bouncing lightly on his heels with an impatient look on his face, as if he’d been standing there for a long time now. He was waiting for someone, but the moment his eyes landed on you, his face broke into a wide grin.

And just like that, all the hesitation that had been creeping up inside you disappeared. You ran across the quad toward him. “Hyuck!”

His laughter was warm as you threw your arms around him, his embrace just as familiar as you remembered. He still smelled like summer—bright, musky, and reckless, even in the cool autumn air.

“I was waiting here expecting you’d ignore me,” he teased, pulling back to look at you. “I would’ve chased you down if you did, though.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping back, but there was no denying the way your heart ached a little. Not in the way it used to, but in the way that happens when you reunite with someone who once held every piece of you in their hands.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you at all,” you admitted. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. Why else would I be here if not for you?” Donghyuck said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not here to get back together or anything. Not that you were expecting me to.”

You let out a small chuckle, but he wasn’t wrong. That thought had never crossed your mind. “You wish I want you back, don’t you?” you teased, making him laugh.

“Do you have time? Can we talk?” he asked, motioning outside the gates.

“Absolutely,” you replied without missing a beat, following after him.

You walked from the campus to the nearby cafe where you ordered food and spent the first few minutes laughing and talking about stupid things. Then the conversation turned serious, which was not something that often happened between the two of you, but you listened to what he had to say anyway.

“I really, really wanted to stay and wait for you to wake up,” he began, referring to when you had a coma after being run over by a car. “But it was out of my hands and I haven’t been on my best behavior for the longest time so… that was the last straw. My parents were furious and Hyung had no choice but to send me back.”

You bit your lip, nodding. “I figured you weren’t allowed to contact me after that?”

“Oh, I wish it was only that,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Because then I would have had chances to contact you in secret. But I wasn’t allowed any electronics at all. Not a phone, not even the computers at uni. I could only meet my friends at home and their phones are confiscated before they even step into the house.”

You winced. “That’s awful.”

He sighed. “You have no idea. I was going nuts! They put me in rehab too for my drinking problems.”

“You had drinking problems?”

“I have drinking habits that they didn’t like so they saw it as a problem.” He chuckled, flashing that boyish smirk you used to hate but had grown to love. “What about you? How are you doing? I heard you skipped a semester?”

“Well, moving on from something that major wasn’t exactly a walk in the park,” you replied, laughing at your own expense. You told him what had happened after that summer. How you came home heartbroken and sad. How you had to get therapy because you were showing signs of depression. How you moved on from it all but still didn’t know how to properly live the life you used to have before that summer. It was a six-month battle and it had been ten months since that fateful summer, but looking back on it now, it felt so much longer than that.

“I’m glad I came. I owed you an explanation, so I had to find a way,” he said, his voice softening. “And I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Something in your chest tightened. You had spent the past months wishing that fate would at least grant you this—closure, a proper goodbye. And now that it was here, it felt like a load was being taken off of your shoulders.

“I’m doing okay,” you said honestly. “And thanks… For coming, I mean. And for being safe.”

Donghyuck smiled wistfully. “I have Taeyong Hyung to thank for that. He convinced our parents to let me come. Told them I needed to ‘learn from the field.’” He made air quotes, then dropped his hands with a small shrug. “Truth is, he just wanted to help me see you.”

Your lips parted slightly, but before you could say anything, Donghyuck grinned. “Guess I’m still the guy who gets what I want, huh?”

You laughed despite yourself. “Looks like it.”

“Yeah. Not all the time now, though. Just sometimes.”

It was strange, this conversation. Maybe time really does heal everything, or maybe you were already healed on your own before today. Either way, as you sat there with Donghyuck laughing, catching up, and looking back on the wildest days of your youth so far, your heart felt lighter and the world seemed to shine brighter with his smile.

“That’s my ride,” he said at one point, looking outside the cafe. You followed his gaze and spotted Taeyong standing by the curb, leaning against the car, waiting.

You turned back to Donghyuck, feeling just a tiny bit sad that this chat was almost over. “Well. I guess this is it.”

He nodded, watching you carefully. “Don’t forget me, okay?”

You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. “I don’t think I could if I tried. This scar right here spells your name out,” you quipped, pointing to the scar on your elbow which you got from the accident.

Donghyuck reached to feel it, his touch gentle and warm. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” you said, watching his solemn expression. “I got it after you saved me, so, thank you for this.”

Something passed through his eyes, something unreadable that he masked with a smirk. “Yeah. Not really exciting. I’m more used to leaving bruises on your neck than scars that don’t disappear.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Sucks to be you. You won’t be leaving bruises on this neck anymore.”

Donghyuck made a show of clutching his broken heart. “What have I done?” he whined, fake-crying.

That made you laugh, and in the quiet that followed, you reached forward and squeezed his hand, offering him one last comforting smile. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“You too,” he murmured, squeezing your hand back.

As you both stepped out of the cafe, you turned to Taeyong, who gave you a small nod, like he knew what this moment meant to you. “Thanks,” you told him sincerely.

He didn’t ask questions, just nodded again and slipped into the car with Donghyuck. You watched them drive away with a comforting sense of fulfillment blooming in your chest. Then you noticed a presence appearing beside you, and you didn’t even have to turn to know who it was.

“You good?” Jaemin asked, peering down at your face.

You chuckled, linking your arm through his as you started walking. “I’m fine. We had our closure. He’s okay, and I’m okay. So I’m fine.”

“Good. I was just asking to make sure you didn’t break down crying,” he teased.

You scoffed, hitting his arm. “That’s right. Make fun of someone’s heart ache. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Jaemin grinned, giving your hand a small squeeze. The moment passed, fading into the rest of your day.

You weren’t sure when it started feeling different. Maybe it was after the first time you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him. Or maybe it was in the moments in between, the ones that had nothing to do with kissing.

But the kissing didn’t stop. It was easy to blame it on your body. That was the logical answer, wasn’t it? You hadn’t had any action in a while, and now Jaemin was right there, warm and solid, tempting and willing. The way he kissed you made your skin burn, made your stomach flutter, made you crave more. It had to be that. Just chemistry. Just a reaction to touch and proximity—a biological response, if you please.

And yet, in the late hours of the night, when you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, it was never just the stolen kisses that stayed in your mind.

It was the way he always waited for you after class. The way he pulled you to the inside of the sidewalk when you walked together, his hand pressing lightly against your lower back. The way he noticed when you were exhausted and handed you a water bottle before you even asked. The way he listened intently whenever you spoke, no matter how insignificant the topic was.

Jaemin had always been like this. Thoughtful. Gentle. Attentive in ways no one else was. But now, it made you wonder, was it really just because you were his best friend? Or had he always seen you more than just a friend and you were just too blind, too caught up in your own world, to realize it?

It bothered you more than you wanted to admit. It followed you through every sneaky kiss, every whispered tease against your lips, every smirk before he kissed you breathless against some forgotten corner of your apartment. Until, one day, it became too much.

Jaemin was being especially affectionate that afternoon. Not in the usual teasing way, not in the way that led to secret kisses or knowing glances. He was just doting. Leaning close, brushing your hair back, tucking it behind your ear. Making sure you weren’t too cold, giving you his jacket before you even noticed the cold. He smiled at you like you hung the damn stars, his eyes soft and fond.

And you snapped. “Can you please stop acting like my boyfriend?” you blurted, voice sharper than intended.

Jaemin froze, his hands pausing in the middle of adjusting your sleeve. His brows lifted just slightly, before his expression carefully smoothed over.

“Right,” he said lightly like it was no big deal. But his hands dropped from you, and his gaze grew colder.

You expected him to say something else, maybe throw out a cocky remark, maybe push back. But he just stepped away, nodding like he understood, and left you standing there without another word.

And for some reason, that felt worse than if he had argued with you.

Maybe it was for the best. For the next few days, you and Jaemin kept a comfortable distance from each other. No more stolen moments hidden from other people’s eyes. No more lingering touches. No more knowing glances. You admit it was hard to get used to it, but it was better that way.

One afternoon, when the sun was gentle enough for you to hang out at the quad, and the atmosphere was just like every other day with the usual campus chatter, students huddled in groups, couples hanging out by the benches, laughter echoing from clusters of friends. You were walking with Karina, listening to her rant about an upcoming exam, when something caught your eye.

Jaemin.

He stood a short distance away, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, a relaxed smile on his lips. Beside him, a girl laughed at something he said, her head tilting back slightly, short blonde hair falling over her shoulder. She was pretty—undeniably so. And Jaemin was watching her laugh—amused, warm, unbothered.

“Who’s that?” The question left your mouth before you could think twice about it.

Karina followed your gaze and made a noise of recognition. “Oh. That’s Minjeong.”

You blinked. The name was vaguely familiar, but not enough for you to immediately place it. “Minjeong?”

Karina turned to you, looking genuinely surprised. “You know, Winter? Jaemin’s ex. You seriously don’t remember?”

Oh. That Minjeong.

You remember her now. She was the girl he had dated last year, the one he had broken up with after a short while. You hadn’t paid much attention to her then—Jaemin had simply told you they didn’t see eye to eye, and you hadn’t questioned it. He never seemed all that affected by the breakup, so you figured it hadn’t been anything serious. But now, standing there watching them, a strange thought lodged itself in your mind. Jaemin lied.

Because right now, they looked like they were seeing eye to eye just fine.

You swallowed, looking away before you could overthink it any further. Karina, thankfully, moved the conversation along.

“By the way,” she started, narrowing her eyes slightly, “what’s up with you and Jaemin?”

Your head snapped toward her. “Nothing.”

She gave you a skeptical look. “Really? Because you two seem kinda distant lately. Did you fight?”

“No,” you answered quickly. Because technically, you hadn’t. “There’s no reason for us to fight.”

Karina hummed, unconvinced. “Okay. That’s even more suspicious.”

You frowned. “How is that suspicious?”

“Because you and Jaemin always come up with things to fight about,” she said simply. “If you’re not overly clingy, you’re fighting about something minor. It’s always one or the other.”

You exhaled sharply. “We didn’t fight. And we’re not distant. We’re just being… friends. Like usual.”

“Okay, let’s just say I believe that and you’re not very suspicious right now because I have a feeling you’d snap at me if I push your buttons,” said Karina, stepping back a little.

You rolled your eyes, brushing her comments aside. She wasn’t wrong. You and Jaemin were either attached by the hip or fighting, no in between. You bickered, pushed and pulled like it was second nature. But lately...

Lately, he had given you space. After what you’d said to him, after the way his expression had cooled and he had simply left, he had kept his distance. And somehow, that felt worse than all the arguments in the world.

It was cliché at this point. Your life wasn’t some rom-com flick, but it seemed to be thriving on predictable storylines. Like right now—just when you were struggling to figure out what to do about this whole mess with Jaemin, of course, someone had to show up to stir things up.

Admitting you were jealous was the last thing you wanted to do. Because doing so meant admitting that you liked him as more than a friend. And acknowledging that meant defeat. You didn’t like defeat. Love and relationships had defeated you several times before. You weren’t about to let it happen again.

And yet, there she was. Minjeong—Winter—whatever people called her now. She was pretty. Endearing. Adorable, even. The kind of girl that made it impossible to dislike her. And that just made it worse.

She was likable. Genuinely likable. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hate her, which would have been easier. But that didn’t change the fact that seeing her next to Jaemin made something twist in your chest

And Jaemin? He looked… happy? That smile, the way his eyes crinkled as he watched her laugh at something he said. It was the kind of look you’d seen a hundred times before, but right now, you hated it. Right now, you wanted to forfeit your pride, march over there, and pull him away from her.

Which was stupid. You were being stupid. You took a deep breath, shaking off the thought just as you passed their table.

“Lunch?” Jaemin offered casually, as if he weren’t sitting there with his ex.

You barely spared him a glance. “No, thanks,” you said curtly, your voice colder than you intended. You walked past him and went straight to your friends’ table.

Karina raised an eyebrow when you plopped down across from her, stabbing your fork into your food a little too aggressively. “So… that’s a ‘no’ to talking things out?” she asked dryly.

You exhaled sharply, refusing to look back at Jaemin’s table. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you muttered.

Karina hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Right. And I’m Beyonce’s daughter.”

You weren’t proud of it, but your mood had been awful all week. You snapped at Renjun over something trivial, ignored Jaemin’s messages, and couldn’t focus in class because every time you blinked, you saw her—Winter, laughing, tilting her head toward Jaemin like he was the most interesting person in the room. And Jaemin? He was eating it up.

You buried yourself in your studies, submitting assignments ahead of deadline, studying for quizzes, and doing advance reading. You used to hate presentations, but you were thankful for having one because you had something to keep your mind off of things.

But at the end of the day, when you were done with everything and fatigue was catching up to you fast, all you wanted was a familiar, comforting presence to keep you sane. Giselle and Karina were unavailable. Renjun might be free but you weren’t close enough to hang out with just the two of you.

Jaemin was your only choice. Not that it was because you were out of options, in fact, he’d always been the first choice. So when you finally caved and texted him, you were completely caught off-guard by his answer.

You: Are you free? Nana: No.

It was a simple response. Nothing inherently wrong with it. But it didn’t come with an apology, or an I’ll see you later, or even a What’s up?—just No.

And that stung, squeezing painfully at your heart. But what really did it was seeing him a few minutes later, leaving the library with Winter, laughing at something she said.

You were sitting on the steps just outside the entrance, waiting for Giselle, when you spotted them. Jaemin had his hands in his pockets, casual and unbothered, while Winter gestured about something, her voice cute and teasing. They stopped a few feet away, still talking, and you had a front-row seat to the easy, unhurried way Jaemin listened to her, the amused smirk tugging at his lips.

He looked like he had all the time in the world for her. Not even a few minutes ago, he had been too busy for you.

You sat there, gripping your phone, overthinking every possible meaning behind this moment. Had he chosen to spend time with her instead? Was he making some kind of decision without telling you?

And then, as if he could sense someone’s eyes on him, Jaemin turned his head, his eyes landing on you.

Your heart leaped to your throat. This was it. This was the moment where he’d see you, where he’d realize you were right there, waiting. Where he’d excuse himself and come over because that’s just what Jaemin would do.

Except… he didn’t. He looked at you, waved with a smile, then turned back to Winter and kept walking.

The impact was immediate, a slap to the face without ever being touched. You didn’t even realize Giselle had arrived until she waved a hand in front of your face. “Earth to you. Are you okay?”

You exhaled through your nose, keeping a neutral expression. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

You stood up, stuffing your hands into your jacket pockets, willing yourself not to look back. But Giselle had seen exactly what you had been staring at.

“Huh,” she mused as you both started walking. “Didn’t expect that.”

You sighed. “Expect what?”

Giselle jerked her chin toward Jaemin and Winter. “Them, hanging out again. I thought they ended things on bad terms.”

Your fingers curled inside your pockets. “You knew about them?”

Giselle shot you a confused look. “Of course, I knew. You did too. She used to give Jaemin hell for always hanging out with you.”

Your steps faltered. Right, there was that. If the two of them were together trying to rekindle their old relationship, of course, she wouldn’t want Jaemin hanging out with you. She used to hate it before, and she had no reason to like it now. Especially if she knew you and Jaemin had crossed the line.

But knowing that made you angrier. Why would he try to get back with his ex just days after being rejected by you? Was Jaemin always like this? Fickle and move on to the next girl as soon as he was done with one?

You knew you were overthinking things. You knew Jaemin wasn't that kind of guy. But the thought still made you seethe.

Jaemin was waiting when you got home. You barely glanced at him as you kicked off your shoes and tossed your bag onto the couch, your exhaustion amplified with irritation. You had spent hours at the café, helping yourself to a single drink, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, trying (and failing) to distract yourself from the mess in your head.

“Where were you?” Jaemin asked, his voice casual. “Had dinner yet?”

You didn’t look at him as you walked toward the kitchen. “Out. And I’m not hungry.”

Jaemin, of course, didn’t let that slide. “Out where?”

You opened the fridge, staring blankly at its contents. “Why do you care?”

Silence. Then, slowly, carefully, he said, “Are you mad? You sound mad.”

That did it. The way he said it like he genuinely didn’t know, like he couldn’t possibly fathom why you might be upset, snap the tiny thread holding your patience together. You shut the fridge door, finally turning to face him. “Why would I be mad, Jaemin?” you said, voice cool, almost mocking. “It’s not like I expected anything from you.”

Jaemin blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me.” You crossed your arms, your pulse hammering. “I asked if you were free. You said no. And then five minutes later, there you were, walking out of the library with your ex-girlfriend who used to hate my guts. Laughing, smiling, acting like you had all the time in the world.”

Realization dawned in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything, so you pushed further, your voice gaining an edge. “So forgive me for assuming I wasn’t worth squeezing into your very busy schedule, and getting mad about it.”

Jaemin exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Are you serious?”

You laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Oh, I promise you, I’m dead serious.”

“You’re mad because I was with Winter?”

“I don’t know, Jaemin, should I be?”

His expression darkened. “Oh, come on. You know what that was.”

“Do I?” You shot back. “Because from where I was sitting, it looked a hell of a lot like you choosing her over me.”

Jaemin stared at you, his jaw tightening. “That’s not what that was! You’re jumping into conclusion and it’s not fair.”

“Neither is you acting like I’m supposed to be fine with being ditched without so much as an explanation! You’re the one who acted like you’d literally combust if I so much as disappear from your sight, now you pick someone over me like I’m nothing?” The words came out louder than you intended, echoing in the small space between you.

The silence that followed was loud and suffocating. Jaemin took a step closer, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “You’re the one who told me to stop acting like your boyfriend.”

Your breath caught in your throat, but he wasn’t done yet. “And now, what? You’re mad that I did?” He tilted his head, eyes searching yours. “What do you want?”

You wanted to yell at him. To push him away. To tell him he was an idiot for not knowing, for not seeing. But you had to stop yourself. Because to answer that question, to say the words out loud, meant admitting the truth. And you weren’t ready for that.

So you did what you always did when things got too real. You turned away. “Forget it,” you muttered, moving to walk past him.

Jaemin didn’t let you. Before you could take another step, his hand caught your wrist, yanking you back just enough for you to stumble into him. His arms caged you in, backing you against the counter. “Jaemin—”

“Tell me.” His voice was low, his face inches from yours. His grip on your wrist wasn’t tight, but it was firm, keeping you there. “Tell me why you’re mad. Or I’ll make you.”

Your breath hitched at the promise in his tone. Your heart was hammering so loudly you were sure he could hear it. And then, before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. “I was jealous, okay?”

The second the confession left your lips, you saw the glint of relief in his eyes. His grip loosened, but he didn’t pull away. He just stood there, watching you with a smile threatening to tug at his lips.

Heat crawled up your neck. “You knew,” you blurted out and the smirk he was concealing finally revealed itself.

He knew and he just wanted you to say it out loud. Annoyed, you tried to twist out of his hold, but Jaemin was faster. He caught your face in his hands, tilting it up, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones.

“You’re jealous?” he echoed softly, like he needed to hear it again to believe it.

“Na Jaemin, I swear to god—” He didn’t let you finish. His lips crashed against yours, stealing whatever excuse, whatever deflection you were about to throw out. It wasn’t like the other times. It wasn’t teasing, wasn’t playful. It was urgent, consuming, an answer to every question you refused to ask.

You gasped, and Jaemin took the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, pressing you further into the counter. One hand slid down, gripping your waist, the other tangling in your hair. You should have stopped him. Should have shoved him away. But instead, your hands found his shoulders, clinging to him like your life depended on it.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless. “You’re jealous,” he said again, softer this time.

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into his shirt. “Shut up.”

Jaemin chuckled. “Winter and I… we—” He paused, searching for the words. “It’s not what you think.”

Your stomach flipped. “It better not be,” you scoffed, hiding behind the mask of nonchalance. Jaemin chuckled.

“I wasn’t choosing her over you.” His fingers brushed against your cheek. “We got paired for a group project and we’ve been working on it all week. Earlier when you texted me, we were heading out to submit it.”

You stared at him, still breathless, your mind scrambling to process what he just said. A group project. That was it? That was all it was?

The weight in your chest lifted so suddenly that you nearly laughed at yourself. The past week—your overthinking, your jealousy, the way you’d lashed out at him—had all been over something so stupid.

“Oh my god.” You shut your eyes, mortified. “You’re kidding.”

“Wouldn’t joke about this,” said Jaemin laughing. “I’m sorry, I should have explained it at least.”

You groaned, dropping your forehead against his shoulder. “I’m actually gonna die of embarrassment.”

He chuckled, his arms wrapping fully around you now. “Yeah? Well, you should know I’d never choose anyone before you. There’s no one above you, silly.”

“This is why you don’t have a girlfriend, Jaemin,” you chided, pulling back to glare at him. “You can’t just put me first over everything.”

Jaemin only smirked, his fingers tightening at your waist. “I don’t want a girlfriend. You’re all I want.”

“Don’t say that,” you muttered, burying your face in his chest. “What if I can’t reciprocate?”

“Well, you were jealous of me and my ex,” he murmured, his tone teasing, but there was something else underneath it—something smug, satisfied. “That’s a good start.”

“Oh my god, enough!” you huffed, pushing him away and trying to escape his hold but he was quick to lift you by the waist, setting you down on the counter.

Before you could argue, before you could even think of something to say that would salvage your dignity, Jaemin kissed you again, lips moving against yours with a heat that sent your mind spiraling. His hands held you firmly, one on your waist, the other cradling your face like he was afraid you’d pull away.

You weren’t pulling away. That fact alone should have set off alarms in your head, but right now, you didn’t care. Not about pride, not about the mess between you, not about the fact that this was probably the worst way to handle your emotions.

Just as you were starting to get consumed by the heat of his touch, Jaemin pulled away and you scoffed before you could even think twice about it.

“You’re so annoying,” you muttered against his lips.

Jaemin exhaled a breathless laugh, looking up at you with that handsome grin he always had on. “And you’re stubborn.” His thumb brushed over your cheek, his voice lower now, rough with restraint. “I thought you didn’t want me acting like your boyfriend.”

You swallowed, your heart beating wildly as you met his gaze. “I don’t,” you whispered, slipping your hand inside the collar of his shirt to rub his back. “But I still want you.”

Jaemin went still for a split second, his grip tightening. “Say that again,” he said—no, he pleaded, eyes glassy with desperation and desire.

“I want you, Jaemin,” you obliged, swallowing shyly.

His mouth crashed onto yours, all restraints melting away. The kiss was deeper, messier, a collision of breath and want, like he was finally letting himself feel everything he’d been holding back. You barely had time to process before he wrapped your legs around his torso, lifted you from the counter, and carried you across the apartment into his bedroom, his body hot against yours.

His hands skimmed down your waist, sliding under the hem of your sweater, palms warm against your skin. His lips moved down to your jaw, then lower, lingering at the soft spot beneath your ear. Jaemin groaned when you arched your hips against his crotch, his grip on your hips tightening like he was holding himself back—like he was still trying to be careful. But you didn’t want careful. You wanted reckless.

You tugged his shirt off, fingers tracing the smooth lines of his back as he pressed you down into the mattress. His lips were feverish, moving with a desperation that sent heat pooling low in your stomach. When he pulled back to look at you, his pupils were blown wide, his chest rising and falling like he was struggling to catch his breath.

“Let me.” His voice was rough, hand sliding down your thigh. “Let me take care of you.” His fingers found the waistband of your shorts, toying with the fabric like he was waiting for permission, but you just spread your legs wider.

He cursed under his breath before his lips were on your throat again, trailing lower, his hands already working to get rid of the last pieces of clothing you both had. Every touch was hot as he whispered promises against your skin—promises he was more than ready to keep.

He lowered himself, head disappearing between your legs. He took a sniff, nose pressing against your sex before he licked a stripe on it.

“Jaemin,” you breathed, your entire body burning with anticipation and want.

Jaemin responded by sucking at your cunt, making you gasp as the first bout of pleasure washed over you. He kept at it, lapping and licking, fucking you with his tongue while you writhed and moaned. You clutched your fingers at his hair, wanting so much to push him away, but you kept pulling his face closer for more.

He rose to meet your gaze at one point, with a smirk gracing his lips, making you lose your mind further because of how hot he looked.

“If you keep shouting like that…” he trailed off, leaning down to kiss your lips as his finger slipped into your sex. He kissed you again just when you were about to moan. “...the neighbors will hear and they’ll know.”

You didn’t care, but you covered your mouth anyway, biting your lower lip as well to make sure you weren’t too loud. Jaemin moved his fingers, in and out, curling and pressing, all while watching every shift in your reaction. When he pushed another finger inside, you failed to stifle a gasp, your hand flying to his arm and squeezing it tightly.

“Shh,” he shushed gently, kissing you once before he went down on you again. And he took his time, teasing, tasting, dragging out every moment until you were trembling beneath him, nails digging into his shoulders in a feeble attempt to not lose your mind at the mind-blowing orgasm that washed over you.

Jaemin kissed you again as he positioned himself between your legs, his manhood prodding your entrance. “Tell me you want this.”

Your hands found their way on his chest, feeling the firm muscles, the way his stomach tensed at your touch. You nodded, still dazed, already losing yourself in him.

“Use your words, baby,” Jaemin coaxed, his voice a little uneven now, like he was barely keeping himself together.

You reached to cup his cheek. “I want this. I want you, Jaemin,” you whispered, and his answering curse was swallowed by your lips as he kissed you again.

His lips on yours muffled the gasps you let out when he slid his manhood in—rough despite the wetness of your orgasm, stretching you impossibly wide. “You okay?” he asked, voice strained with concern.

You nodded quickly, overwhelmed, and he kissed you again, swallowing your soft whimper. “Relax for me,” he whispered soothingly. “I’ve got you.”

He moved with a patience that contradicted the way his body trembled against yours, like he wanted to take his time, like he was memorizing every sound and expression you made. His hands traced along your ribs, slow and reverent, before sliding down to your thighs, gripping them with just enough force to make your breath hitch. His movements were steady, his thrusts heavy as he pounded into you.

“You feel so good,” he breathed against your lips, his voice wrecked. “You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

You barely had time to respond before he kissed you again, deeper, stealing the air from your lungs. His hands slid higher, exploring every inch of exposed skin, setting your nerves on fire. When he started ramming harder, you let out broken gasps and whimpers, and that sound had him gripping you tighter.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, lips brushing along your jawline, his breath hot against your skin. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

You swallowed, eyes rolling back as you held onto him for dear life. “I don’t know,” you admitted in a ragged voice, but Jaemin just hummed, nipping lightly at the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

“Yes, you do,” he coaxed, straightening up on his knee and gripping both of you thighs as he tried to plunge in as deep as he could. “You want this.”

“Harder,” you managed to croak out, shutting your eyes as he drove you further into the edge.

Jaemin hummed, and you could picture the smirk on his lips. “Harder, yes?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, desire clouding your judgment. “Please.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised before obliging.

Every touch, every kiss, every reassurance had you melting beneath him. He was everywhere, and you wanted more of him. Needed more of him. He gave you everything. He kissed his way down your body, slow and reverent. Every time you gasped, every time your breath hitched, he murmured against your skin—

“That’s it, baby.” “You’re so beautiful like this.” “Let me make you feel good.”

And you did. More than you ever had before. And when he finally pushed you past the point of no return, you realized—he had always been there to catch you. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as Jaemin exhaled a shaky breath, his forehead pressing against yours before collapsing above you.

The silence between you was jarring. It was the kind silence that didn’t belong in a space that had only ever been filled with teasing, bickering, and laughter. The sheets were tangled between your legs, your skin still warm from being touched by Jaemin. But the aftermath of the warmth that had consumed you moments ago was heavy.

Regret wasn’t the word—not exactly. But uncertainty sat heavily in your chest, and you hated it. You exhaled, staring at the ceiling, before finally voicing the question that had been gnawing at you since the haze of desire dissipated. “What now?”

Your voice came out quieter than expected. You turned your head to look at him. “Why did we do this? What if we ruined everything?”

Jaemin was propped up on one elbow, watching you, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. He didn’t look the least bit conflicted. If anything, he looked like a man who had finally gotten what he wanted.

He smiled. “Baby, we were done the moment you kissed me in front of that fridge a few weeks ago. This friendship? It ended right then and there.”

You swallowed, trying to make sense of his words. “I never wanted to be friends with you anyway,” he added, voice soft but unwavering. “Did you forget that?”

You hummed. “Isn’t that kind of a betrayal, though?” You searched his face, looking for something—an answer, a reassurance, maybe even a reason to argue. “You’ve loved me all these years, and here I was, thinking you were my best friend.”

Jaemin’s eyes darkened, but not in the way they had earlier. This was something more profound. “I do love you,” he admitted. “But not all these years.”

Your heart lurched painfully. “What—”

“I liked you when we were younger,” he clarified, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around your wrist. “But we became friends, so I let it go. You were happy with other people, and I was happy being the one who stood beside you.” He exhaled, the tension in his grip loosening. “I only realized I loved you now. Not because I was waiting, not because I was hoping, but because tonight, you looked at me the way I used to look at you.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. The way he said it, so simple yet so profound, left you at a loss. “You’re so cheesy,” you muttered instead, forcing lightness into your tone.

Jaemin only chuckled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s okay. I know you’ll love me anyway.”

It was sweet. He was sweet. And for a split second, you wanted to believe in the warmth of this moment, in the possibility that maybe you could finally have something good.

But then reality sank its claws into you, dragging you back down. You weren’t in the right headspace for this. Not now. Maybe not ever. Your heart still bore the scars of past failures, of love stories that had ended in ruins. You didn’t trust yourself to make this work, to not destroy something before it even had the chance to grow.

You couldn’t risk it. Especially not with Jaemin, your best friend, your emergency contact—the one person you knew would have your back no matter what happened.

The hesitation must have shown on your face because Jaemin’s expression shifted. He didn’t look disappointed. He didn’t even look surprised. If anything, he just looked patient.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, stroking your cheek. “You can take your time.”

Your throat tightened. “And if I never push through with it?”

Jaemin smiled, something achingly fond in his gaze. “Then I’ll still be here. And I won’t hate you for it.”

That was the thing about Jaemin. He never asked for more than you were willing to give. And somehow, that made you want to give him everything.

Jaemin didn’t hesitate when he asked for his right to act on his feelings. He promised he wouldn’t push too far, wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want, but he wanted to be able to touch you, hold you, kiss you when he felt like it. And for some reason, you didn’t push him away. Maybe because deep down, you liked it too much. Maybe because it was easier to indulge than to fight it.

So you let it happen. You let him linger closer, let his hands find yours whenever you were within reach. You let yourself fall into his presence, allowing the way he touched you to become something you expected, something you craved, even if you wouldn’t say it out loud.

Mornings changed first. You got used to waking up to the press of his body against yours, to the weight of his arm over your waist. He was always warm, always impossibly comfortable. Jaemin, who once used to be the one dragging you out of bed, now found excuses to keep you there.

If you tried to get up, he’d pull you right back, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck. “Five more minutes.”

You’d roll your eyes, and push at his chest, only for him to hug you tighter, murmuring something about how you smelled too nice for him to let go yet. You always huffed at him, but you never actually pulled away.

Jaemin took care of you in the smallest, most effortless ways. Your coffee was already waiting for you before you even asked. On mornings when you slept in, he’d slip into your room just to leave a cup on your nightstand, the smell of roasted beans waking you up before the sunlight even had the chance.

When you cooked together, he always found ways to touch you. Guiding you from behind when you stirred the pot, his hands sliding to your waist like it was second nature. He’d taste whatever you were making and hum in approval, then kiss the side of your head just because.

He always looked at you like that too, like you were something precious, something his. And you let him.

The little touches never stopped. A hand on the small of your back when he passed by. Fingers brushing your cheek as he tucked your hair behind your ear. When you got too focused, too lost in your work, he’d lean in and press a quick kiss to your cheek, just to remind you that he was still there. He did it so casually, so confidently, like touching you was as easy as breathing.

But it wasn’t just at home where things changed. At school, Jaemin was just as affectionate. He sat closer than usual, his knee bumping against yours under the table, his hand resting on your lower back whenever he leaned in to speak. He stole sips from your drinks, stole bites of your food, stole every excuse to touch you in ways that, had anyone been paying closer attention, would have looked like something far more than friendship.

But no one noticed. Because, to them, you and Jaemin had always been this way—close, affectionate, orbiting around each other like you were both integral parts of each other. No one questioned it when he pulled you onto his lap during movie nights at Giselle’s place because it was easier than sharing the small couch. No one batted an eye when he draped an arm over your shoulders at lunch, absentmindedly playing with your hair as he listened to Karina talk about weekend plans. Not even Giselle, who usually had a sharp eye for these things, suspected anything when Jaemin took your bag without a word and slung it over his shoulder, carrying it for you.

You could feel it though. The way Jaemin’s touches lingered just a second longer than they used to. The way he watched you when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he whispered your name sometimes, like it was something he was still getting used to saying with affection and love.

You caught yourself looking for him. When he wasn’t home yet, you listened for the sound of the door unlocking, for his familiar voice calling out to you. You never used to notice it before, but now, your shared space felt off without him in it. And when he was home, you never questioned why it felt better.

One night, you slipped up. You were half-asleep, curled up against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you gently. And maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the warmth, or maybe it was just him, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

"Don’t go. I'll be lonely without you."

Jaemin stilled. Then his arms tightened around you, his lips pressing on the top of you head. "I’m not going anywhere."

And that was how you lived—entangled in something unlabeled, something neither of you tried to question or define. He didn’t ask for more. You didn’t push him away.

Nana: You’re fine with getting new housemates, right?

You frowned at your phone. You asked him to get groceries, and he’s talking about getting housemates?

You: No. Nana: Not even gonna ask who they are first? You: Doesn’t matter. The answer is still no. Nana: That’s unfair. You should at least meet them before deciding. You: It’s my apartment. I get the final say. Nana: you mean, OUR apartment.

You: I still get the final say. Nana: What if I just bring them over for a quick dinner? No pressure, just introductions. You: I don’t see how that changes anything. Nana: You might change your mind. You: I won’t. Nana: … Nana: So that’s a yes to dinner?

You sighed, already regretting your decision.

You: Fine. But it’s still a no. Nana: Noted.

About an hour later, you heard the front door open and close, followed by the unmistakable sound of Jaemin kicking off his shoes. You looked up, expecting to see him with, what? Two guys? A couple of friends in need of a place to crash? Instead, Jaemin stood in the doorway, grinning like a kid who had just done something he wasn’t supposed to.

In his arms was a fluffy cat with wide, curious eyes. Another poked its head out of the bag slung across his chest. And at his feet, a third cat rubbed against his legs like it had already claimed him as its personal human.

You blinked. “Jaemin.”

“Yeah?” he asked, completely nonchalant as he set the cat in his arms down on the floor.

You gestured at the trio of kitties now sniffing around your apartment. “What the hell is this?”

Jaemin crouched to scratch behind the ears of the one that had been circling his ankles. “This,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “is Luna, Lucy, and Luke. Our new housemates.”

You stared at him. “Excuse me?”

Jaemin finally looked up, smiling at you in that sweet, boyish way that usually meant he had done something ridiculous but wanted you to let it slide. “They needed a home.”

“That’s not an answer.” You pointed accusingly at the one sitting on the couch now, making itself comfortable. “Jaemin, we never talked about getting a cat. Let alone three.”

“I know.” He stood, brushing off his jeans. “But a senior from our department is graduating and she couldn't take them home with her. She was looking for someone who could adopt them, and I was only gonna get one but then she told me they’re siblings and have to stay together. And I just can’t leave them, can I?”

“So you thought bringing all three of them home was a good idea?” you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice to that soft, coaxing tone he always used when he was trying to win you over. “You love cats.”

“That’s not the point.”

“They love you already,” he continued. “Look.”

You felt something nuzzle against your leg. Looking down, you saw Luna—Luke? Lucy? Whatever—purring up at you, their big round eyes full of innocence. Your heart softened, but you refused to let it show.

Jaemin noticed anyway. His smirk was triumphant. “Oh, they are sooo staying.”

You sighed heavily, pouting with your shoulders sagging in defeat. “I hate you.”

Jaemin laughed, leaning in to kiss your temple. “No, you don’t.” Then he hugged you from behind, squeezing you gently as he watched the cats now making themselves comfortable in their new home. “So, should we get them matching collars, or is that too much?”

Your last semester of college came too soon, slipping through your fingers like the pages of a book you weren’t ready to close. Life moved forward whether you were prepared or not, and with it, your friends were the first to step into their next chapters.

Karina and Giselle walked the stage that spring, struggling to keep their caps in place as they jumped into each other’s arms. Renjun beamed as he shook hands with professors, looking a little smug in his honors sash. Even Jaemin, who always brushed off big moments like these, cracked a self-satisfied smile when his name was called. You cheered for them, clapped until your hands hurt, and posed for pictures, but there was no denying the way it felt watching them leave while you stayed behind.

The halls of NCIT felt emptier without Karina’s complaints about deadlines and Giselle’s dramatic reenactments of campus drama. But Jaemin was still there. He hadn’t packed up and left like the others. While everyone else dove headfirst into their careers, he stayed, taking time off instead of immediately stepping into the expectations waiting for him outside college walls.

His days were spent taking care of you, spending time with you, helping you with homework, and piecing together his photography portfolio, and somehow, you became the centerpiece of it.

“Look at me.” Jaemin’s voice was soft but insistent as he crouched in front of you, camera in his hands.

You huffed, tearing your gaze away from the book you weren’t really reading. “I am looking at you.”

He clicked his tongue. “No, you’re glaring at me.”

“Because you’re being annoying,” you retorted. Jaemin grinned, completely unaffected.

“Let’s try that again,” he said. You sighed but gave in, letting your eyes meet the lens, expression softening just a little. He snapped the photo immediately, and from the way his face lit up, you could tell he got exactly what he wanted.

“Perfect,” he murmured, flipping the camera around to show you.

You tried not to let it get to you, but there was something about the way he saw you, how his lenses captured you as someone important, someone loved.

The cats were an extension of the both of you, curling up on Jaemin’s chest when he sprawled on the couch, purring on your legs when you stood in the kitchen. Jaemin spoiled them rotten—Luna got her favorite sunspot by the window all to herself, Lucy got head pats on demand, and Luke had claimed Jaemin’s lap as his personal throne.

“Traitor,” you had muttered once when Luke chose Jaemin over you.

“They just love me more,” Jaemin had teased, scratching behind Luke’s ears with a smirk.

This was how things had been between you two. Ever since that night, the night you crossed a line you could never uncross, nothing really changed yet somehow, everything had.

Jaemin never held back anymore. He was more affectionate, more attentive, like he wasn’t afraid of pushing too far. He called you baby like it was the most natural thing in the world, pulled you into his arms whenever he felt like it, and pressed kisses to your forehead without hesitation.

He worshipped you in the privacy of your apartment, uttered your name like it would hurt him not to do so, touched your skin like you were the most precious thing he had ever touched, ever kissed, and ever laid his eyes on. He loved you in and out, and you basked in his attention, his affection, and his unwavering loyalty.

Maybe you should have stopped it, maybe you should have told him to slow down, but the truth was, you liked it. You liked how easy it was, how warm it felt. You liked not having to question what you meant to him anymore.

And Jaemin never asked for more than what you could give. He let you take your time, let you figure it out in your own way. So you spent the rest of the semester like that, somewhere between best friends and something more.

When your turn to graduate finally arrived, they were all there—Karina, Giselle, Renjun, Ningning, everyone who had been with you through the years. They cheered for you just as loudly as you had for them, but it was Jaemin who stood out the most. He was impossible to miss, holding your bouquet like it was his accomplishment, snapping pictures as if he were paid to do it.

The ceremony was long, the speeches were boring, but it didn’t matter. You had done it.

It wasn’t until the reception that Karina’s eyes narrowed at Jaemin when he leaned over to fix your cap. “Baby, your tassel’s on the wrong side,” he murmured, adjusting it before you could react.

Karina gawked. “Did you just—? Did he just call you baby?”

Giselle nearly choked on her drink. Renjun gave you a slow, knowing smirk. You felt your stomach drop.

“What?” Jaemin blinked, completely unfazed. “I’ve been calling her that since earlier.”

“You have not,” Karina accused.

“Yes, he has,” Renjun said, crossing his arms. “You guys just don’t listen.”

Giselle let out a scandalized gasp. “Oh my god. Were you guys—? Since when?”

“I’m gonna get more food,” you blurted, grabbing Jaemin’s wrist and dragging him away before anyone could interrogate you further. He let you, chuckling under his breath.

Later that week, when the celebrations died down and you were finally hauled the last box of your stuff outside your apartment complex, you glanced back at NCIT right across the street and thought about the years you had spent in this place, all the moments that had led you here.

The late-night cramming sessions, the spontaneous road trips, the heartbreaks, and the reckless decisions. Every piece of your college life was shaped by the people who walked it with you.

Giselle, Karina, and Ningning, your constants through every breakdown and triumph, who saw you at your worst and never let you stay there for too long. They made the ordinary feel special, turned bad days into bearable ones, and stayed no matter how messy life got,

Renjun taught you friendship and admiration. You haven’t heard from Yangyang for a long time now, but you’d never forget his cheshire cat smile and how he taught you to live in the moment. Jeno taught you patience and the importance of putting yourself first. What you had with Donghyuck ended before it had the chance to properly begin, but the memories of your youth will always have him in it.

Love in the eyes of a college student was everything and anything. It was stupid, it was dumb. It was exhilarating, it was euphoric. It was slow, it was fast. It was damning, but also freeing. Such are the highs and lows of college romances. At the end of it all, you leave it all behind and move on with your life.

“Baby!” Jaemin’s voice cut through your thoughts. You glanced over your shoulder, smiling at the sight of him waving happily and beckoning you over to his car. “Time to go!”

You took one last look at the campus that had been your whole world for the past few years, exhaling softly. Then you walked toward him, toward the future.

Because some things, you take with you.

You walked toward him, fishing your phone from inside your pocket. Jaemin leaned in to peer at your screen. “What are you doing?”

“Sending one last entry to Campus Confessions.”

“Campus Confessions? NCIT's confessions page?”

“Yes.”

Jaemin gasped. “You send entries to CC?”

“I do, sometimes,” you replied, getting into the car.

“For whom?” he pressed, sitting on the driver's seat looking perplexed and surprised. “Did you just send a last minute confession to a crush or something?”

“Start driving. We're way behind schedule as it is.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, but didn't argue. You smiled as you watched him seethe in his seat, driving the car away from the apartment complex.

To: NCIT Long story short, I survived. - x

[fin]

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