#no 1 yearner right here

[fungusbunnus]

thinkgen about katsuki waking up from literally dying and first thing looking for his am card…. trying to gently wipe the blood off it and feeling hurt all over again when it just smudges… a cherished memory now soiled with blood

[withlovemark]

“FLYING KISS”

pairing: childhood best friend! lee jeno x nerd! reader | genre: rom-com | words: 23k

synopsis -> you and lee jeno go way back, as in diapers and all that. before he was known as the chill fuckboy, he was an all time nerd! just like you! tired of being a loser who can’t even get the guy you wanted, you badly needed tips and a makeover. who’s better to ask for help than your childhood best friend, who has proven that a nerd can be hot?

warnings -> guaranteed giddiness! pet name unlocked: bunny, two dumb idiots, jeno is a yearner!!!, slow burn? kinda but once it starts, it starts, mentions of: car crash, a deceased parent, too many side characters from other groups, +18, crude language, mentions of fuck-boys, parties, drinking, a fight between the boys, blood, a nasty cut, heavy on the smut! reader is a virgin, lots of fingering, oral (m+f), handjob, blowjob, mention of mutual masturbation, corruption kink, pop the cherry!, soft sex, exhibitionism, jeno is a dirty dirty boy with lots of dirty thoughts and a dirty mouth.

an -> the second installment of the loverboy series is yours! this one literally just flowed through me, i could not stop writing, squealing and giggling at this trope. i’m dreading leaving them behind. you do not need to read stupid cupid to understand this story but here are some important things to take note of: 1) jeno is the chill fuckboy, he does not like the whole hopping to one girl to another thing so he gets into a lot of meaningless situationships with girls he does not care about 2) jaemin is currently the only happily taken member of the dream fraternity, he calls his gf: angel. k, have fun reading, with love, c!

the library buzzed with the soft hum of university life filled with quiet chatter, the occasional laugh and the rustling of pages. there were small groups of friends in heated discussions, catching up on life or laughing over a joke. some were hunched over textbooks, deep in concentration, others were lost in their books, barely blinking, while a few had surrendered to sleep, heads resting on their arms. and, tucked away in the back, were the ones who thought they were subtle – furtive glances, sneaky touches, stolen kisses.

there was a place for everyone in the library and it was your favorite place in the entire world.

but right now, as you watch your long-time crush, third year business major, the soccer team’s mvp, jung sungchan, stick his tongue down a random girl’s throat, you can’t help but feel like your safe haven has been tainted.

the grip you had on your pencil tightens as your eyebrows furrowed at the scene that played out, jealousy taking over your features. out of all the places on campus, he had to choose your spot. you have half the mind to report to the librarian. you were already classified as the school’s nerd, why not add snitch to your dictionary?

“what’s that look on your face?,” your best friend’s voice pulled you back to earth, playful, as he plopped down on the seat next to you.

jeno has been fated to be your best friend way before you were even born. with your dad’s being the best of friends, it was written in the stars, whether you liked it or not.

but you liked it, and so did he.

if it wasn’t for jeno, you might have ended up a complete social outcast. thanks to his status and the fact that you were always seen together, people decided you were tolerably weird. you weren’t nose-picking weird or talking to yourself in the hallways weird, just…a little awkward.

and if it wasn’t for you, jeno probably wouldn't have made it into university to begin with. you tutored him in almost every class, every time he struggled with anything school related, he ran to you, from elementary school to university, you were practically his teacher.

they say university is supposed to be the place where you let go of your childhood self and finally grow up. yet here you are now, a third year student and you still haven't quite grown into the lady you were supposed to be. trends went over your head, fashion didn’t interest you and makeup was harder than your architect class. half your wardrobe was made up of high school leftovers, you were still sporting bangs that you had from middle school and you never really saw the point in “fixing yourself up.”

at least, one of you did — jeno somehow made his way into the dream fraternity and somehow earned the title the chill fuckboy. it was odd, seeing people start treating him differently. even odder when you started to see girl’s eyes follow him like he was some kind of lead in a main k-drama and then land on you with a confused gaze. like they couldn’t understand why he was friends with someone like you.

“nothing,” you say quickly, finally tearing your eyes away from sungchan and forcing your attention on the assignment in front of you.

jeno, not satisfied with your answer, followed your earlier gaze, a light chuckle slipping past his lips, “aww, does my little bunny wunny have a crush?,” he cooed, reaching over to pinch your cheek, his trademark eye smile on display.

bunny was the nickname he had given you when you both were eight years old. in some twisted doom, like you were always going to be life’s punching bag, all your baby teeth fell out at the same time, leaving only the two front teeth behind. these days, he throws in a ridiculous wunny at the end just to piss you off.

“shut up jeno,” you scowl, swatting his hand away and adjusting your glasses back into place.

he chuckles, unfazed, before pulling out his own assignments and settling in beside you. a comfortable silence draping over the two of you, easy and familiar.

but your mind was still reeling. you wanted, so badly, to be the girl who was kissing sungchan instead of the nerd he only acknowledged when he needed answers for a test. you wanted to hold his hand, to walk around campus with him, to be the one sitting in the back of the library.

you wanted to be the girl that people wanted to be.

your gaze drifts to your best friend. jeno hadn’t always been this effortlessly put-together, with his hair perfectly styled, clothes fitting him properly, and those annoying sculpted arms that somehow always had a girl clinging to them.

you’re reminded of a different version of him – the times when you had matching glasses, his head way too big for his body, the endless rotation of naruto and pokemon t-shirts he always had on and the way he would stutter every time a pretty girl would even look at his direction.

if he could grow into the handsome, confident man he is now, why couldn’t you?

and then, just like that, a lightbulb flickers on.

“...neno,” you call out to him, sweetly.

jeno eyes you with immediate suspicion, you only use that nickname when you want something from him, “what?,” he asks, an eyebrow raised.

“we’re best friends, right?,” you ask, innocently blinking up at him.

“is the sky blue???,” he shoots back, voice dripping with playful sarcasm. you ignore it, too caught up in the plan buzzing in your head.

“so, as my best friend, you’d do anything for me, right?,” you press, excitement coursing through.

he narrows his eyes, “that depends on what you’re about to ask from me,” he says, looking at you with a mixture of suspicion and mild horror.

“make me hot,” you say, dead serious.

jeno chokes on absolutely nothing, eyes going wide as the words hit him, “what?!.” he hisses, half-whisper, half-scream, as if you just confessed to a felony. a few heads turned your way and you can’t help but blush under the sudden attention.

“you’re so dramatic!,” you whisper, shrinking behind your books. all your previous confidence, going down the drain as you finally realized what you just asked him to do.

jeno charmingly waves, muttering his apologies until the curious stares faded and the library’s usual hush returned.

“y/n,” he said, suddenly serious, gaze locked on you, “what do you mean by ‘make you hot’?” his entire focus on you.

you sigh, heat crawling up your neck, “nevermind, jeno, it’s nothing,” you say, grabbing the nearest book, hoping to bury this conversation along with your pride.

before you could turn a page, jeno snatches it away from you, “hey, no secrets between us remember,” he said, gently but firmly.

you stared at the table, lips pressed into a thin line, weighing the embarrassment against the aching truth in your chest, “i just meant…help me be desirable, i’m tired of being a nerd, jeno. i just want someone to look at me and think i’m pretty,” you admit, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

“i think you’re pretty, bunny,” he says quietly.

you groaned, immediately burying your face in your hands. this was too embarrassing. you felt like you were fishing for compliments.

“ugh, you’re only saying that because you’re my best friend and our dads will literally kill you if you don’t,” you say, voice muffled by the table below you.

jeno chuckles lightly beside you, “i’m not just saying that.”

you sit back up slowly, looking him dead in the eye, “jeno, i’ve never been asked out, never held hands with someone, hell, i’ve never even kissed anyone,” you reason, head plopping back into your chair.

“—that’s not true!, you’ve kissed me,” he points out earning an eye roll from you.

“jeno we were 14 and i kissed you like how i would kiss my mom,” you say, “it doesn’t count,” you shut your eyes, silently begging the universe to erase this entire moment from existence.

but your words lingered in jeno’s head – the quiet desperation in your voice, the way your eyes had pleaded without meaning to and before he could even think twice, his mouth moved on its own.

“i’ll see what i can do,” he said. your eyes flew open, locking onto his with a sparkle that transferred over to his own.

“thank you, neno,” you grinned, ruffling his hair with a smirk, excitement bubbling through you.

he groaned in protest, batting your hands away but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

a second later, his phone flashes on his side. one glance at the screen and he was already gathering his things, “gotta go, lia texted,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

you nodded, smiling up at him, “have fun, don’t get pregnant,” you teased.

he chuckled, messing your hair up on his way out, “no promises,” he winked, making your face scrunch up in disgust. the image of your best friend having sex was not appealing at all.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

after spending a couple of hours buried in his current situationship’s legs, jeno finally made his way back to the dream house.

the conversation you had in the library constantly playing in his mind as he quickly barges into jaemin’s room, “dude-i oh…sorry!,” his eyes widen, apologizing as he redirects his stare at the ceiling, but doesn’t make an effort to leave.

jaemin scrambles to wrap the blanket around his girlfriend, who is currently face down, ass up with his dick still inside her, “dude!, get out!?,” he yells furiously, throwing a pillow at him.

“i need to ask you something,” jeno says, making jaemin groan, “can you ask me later?, im busy,” he grunts, his girlfriend still clenching tightly around him.

“oh…yeah, sorry…hi angel,” jeno mutters out, a playful smile on his lips before leaving and locking the door behind him, hearing an embarrassed, muffled, “hi jeno,” from jaemin’s girlfriend, on his way out.

“learn to lock the door!,” he laughed from the other side, the sound of skin slapping resuming as he made his way down the living room.

for the past few hours, your words had been playing on a loop in his head. he wasn’t sure where to start or how to go about helping you. not because he didn’t want to but because he’d never realized you needed that kind of help.

sure, he noticed that there were never any boys around, other than him, but he thought you preferred it that way. always scowling in disgust when a guy tries to get near you or even breathe the same air as you.

and besides the fact that he wanted to repay you for always helping him without asking for anything in return, he’d always thought you were pretty.

when you were six, with a scraped knee, and tear streaked cheeks after falling as you chased after his hamster who escaped - pretty.

when you were eight, missing all your teeth except the two in the front, food always ending up smeared all over your face - pretty.

when you were eleven, threatening all his bullies to stay away from him or you would call your dad - pretty.

when you were fourteen and you kissed him because you were curious why your parents were always kissing - so pretty.

when you were fifteen, drowning in a pink puffy dress that ate you up whole - ridiculous, but pretty.

when you were sixteen, at your mom’s funeral, crying on his shoulder, not allowing anyone else near you but him - hauntingly pretty.

when you were eighteen and you both had gotten your acceptance letters for university, excitedly jumping around together - pretty.

when you were twenty and crashed his car because you thought there was a dog on the road, only for it to be the shadow of the tree you crashed into - annoying, but still so damn pretty.

as your best friend, he wants you to see yourself the way he saw you.

if this was what it took to help you finally claim your confidence, then he’d do whatever it takes to make sure it worked. whether or not this was about impressing that boy you liked, he didn’t care. he just wanted to help you feel more sure of yourself.

an hour passed before jaemin finally joined him in the living room, immediately punching him in the arm, “learn to knock,” he huffs out before sitting next to his friend.

jeno chuckles, rubbing his arm, “i didn’t see anything, promise,” he turns to his friend, “you better not have or i’ll literally scoop your eyes out and feed it to you,” his friend grunts making him scrunch up in disgust.

“that’s disgusting,” jeno comments, the mental image making both of them squirm before bursting out into laughter.

“so what did you need?,” jaemin asks as soon as their laughter dies down.

“i actually need your girlfriend’s help,” he smiles sheepishly, piquing the other boy’s curiosity.

“with what?,” jaemin asks.

“with y/n,” jeno says before jaemin nods, getting up to get his girlfriend out of his room and into the living room. the rest of the boys knew who you were, of course, and as jeno had requested, they all looked out for you.

jaemin’s girlfriend listens intently at the plan jeno had - a makeover. he knew he needed a girl’s touch since he didn’t really know anything about the work that girls put into themselves to make them look ‘hot’.

he could argue he thought they just came that way. just like how you have always been pretty.

“well, im kind of done with all of that makeover and stuff,” she briefly smiles at her boyfriend, “but i do know the perfect girl,” shes says smiling, as jeno notes down the girls’ name, paying her a visit.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

two days later, jeno came prepared. plopping down in his usual seat in the library, right next to you, armed with a notepad that was opened to the page:

operation bunny’s glow-up

step 1: the makeover

step 2: closet cleanse and wardrobe upgrade

step 3: posture, confidence and flirting 101

step 4: bunny’s party reveal

you blinked at the notebook in front of you, registering the words written in jeno’s extremely neat handwriting, “what is this?”

“this,” he said, tapping the page, “is how i'm going to help you,” jeno explains.

there were too many steps and you’re suddenly so very aware how ridiculous this actually was, “can we just magically skip to step four where i’m already pretty and perfect and partying?,” you sigh, already feeling exhausted.

jeno almost wants to scold you for thinking you weren’t already pretty and perfect but remembered this is why he was doing this in the first place. to make sure you know you were pretty and perfect.

instead he says, “nope, this is a full process. you asked for my help and that’s what you’re getting, no backing out and definitely no easy way out.”

the sternness in his voice made you realize how serious he was about this. “you’re really gonna do all this for me, neno?,” you ask, a hint of gratitude shining in your eyes.

“of course i am, that’s what best friends are for,” he shrugs, ruffling your hair once again.

which is how you ended up here, seated in a salon chair with the girl you met just a couple minutes ago, your best friend leaving you all by your awkward self with no other than — giselle, third year cosmetology major and one of the school’s hottest girls.

her preppy personality was overwhelming, confidence radiating off her like perfume. you had no idea how to interact with her, no clue how any girl could be so aware of her beauty and completely own it the way she did.

it’s almost unfair how nice she was too. hot, popular girls were supposed to be mean, rude, intolerable. that’s how they’re portrayed in every teen movie you’ve seen. but giselle is kind, easygoing, talked to you like you weren't several social status’ below her in the pyramid you’ve made up.

“alright, so we’re gonna make sure your hair frames for your face perfectly and get rid of all your split ends,” she explains, hands already in motion as she fluffs your hair out, moving it around, parting it here and there to visualize what looks best on you.

once she figured it out, she let out a satisfied hum and got to work. the scissors glide gracefully, almost like they were an extension of her fingers and you can’t help but be mesmerized.

“so, how did you and jeno meet?,” she asks, casually starting the conversation as her hands continue to move through your hair.

“uhm, our parents are best friends,” you mumble, trying not to sound as stiff as you feel.

“ooh, that’s fun!,” she comments and you’re not entirely sure if she means it or if she’s just trying to be polite. either way, you appreciate her effort.

“and you’ve never had a crush on him?,” she adds, eyebrows raised. the shock on your face is evident, the very idea of having a crush on your best friend making your stomach twist.

“uhh no, i’ve never seen him that way,” you reply, a shudder slipping down your spine.

giselle laughs, clearly amused, “i see,” she hums, “your best friend is hot though, you know?,” you smile up at her, nodding, blush creeping up your cheeks.

of course you knew people considered jeno hot but you’re not entirely sure you agree with that statement.

he was the same boy who was crying to you because his hamster escaped, the same boy who got his braces stuck in your sweater, the same boy who ran away when you kissed him, the same boy who almost cried when your acceptance letter came in the mail first, his nowhere to be seen until a week later – your best friend was cute, the same way a puppy was cute.

“soo, who do you think is hot?,” she asks, playful curiosity dancing in her eyes.

is this what girl talk is?

“uhmm,” you shy away under her friendly gaze. you’ve never really had anyone to talk to about boys. with your mom passing away at an early age and all your girlfriends more interested in their anime crushes than real ones, this kind of conversation feels like uncharted territory.

“don’t worry, i'm really good at keeping secrets,” she says, urging you to go on. there’s something about her aura that you trust. and you knew that if jeno didn’t trust her, he wouldn’t have left you alone with her in the first place. so for the first time in your life, you indulge in girl talk.

“i think umm…i think sungchan is hot,” you mutter, shy, eyes immediately darting to the floor.

she gasps, an exaggerated, delighted sound, “i totally agree” she says giggling, “you have great taste,” she giggles. then, leaning in with excitement, she whispers, “i’m gonna make sure sungchan falls in love with you.”

you glance at her reflection in the mirror and despite yourself, a smile appears on your face, giddy and a little disbelieving.

“and…we’re done with your hair!,” she announces, your focus darting at your own reflection. your eyes widen slightly. she made your hair look like what you would see in the magazines – sleek, soft, effortlessly perfect.

the change in your appearance already reflecting back at you.

“this is just the beginning,” she whispers again, a friendly smile displayed on her lips.

she gently reclines the chair you were sitting on then tilts your chin up with practiced fingers, her eyes scanning your face with focused curiosity as she takes your glasses off, “hmm, okay,” she murmurs, turning your face side to side. you can’t help but feel awkward, gaze drifting everywhere else, avoiding eye contact.

“okay…i’m just gonna clean up your brows, and wax a little peach fuzz if that’s okay?,” she asks, voice light and reassuring. you nod, unsure what all that means but trusting her anyway.

giselle gets to work immediately, a new tool in her hand, and wax paper placed on your upper lip and in just twenty minutes, she steps back, satisfied.

your face looks softer…more defined. more you, somehow.

“you’re so pretty, y/n,” she says warmly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “and we barely did anything.”

the compliment hits you harder than you expect. pretty wasn’t a word you would ever describe yourself yet here is one of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever seen calling you that. tears sting the corner of your eyes before you can blink them away.

“c’mon,” she says, voice still gentle but laced with excitement, “we’re not done, grab your stuff, we're going somewhere.”

after spending exactly thirty-two minutes in giselles car, singing along to the radio and laughing at her endless stream of chaotic stories, which you thought was something you’d never ever do, you were now at the mall. more specifically, standing in front of a waxing salon.

you shoot her a nervous glance, eyes wide with suspicion.

“i figured you’d be more comfortable with a stranger you’d never have to see again,” she says with a casual shrug, and suddenly it clicks why you’re here.

you knew what a waxing salon was, you just never thought you’d voluntarily stepped foot into one.

“this is my go-to, they get everything and it doesn’t hurt that bad,” she promises, reassuring, and you swore you look like a tomato with how much you’re blushing.

when giselle said they get everything, she meant they get everything.

even body parts that you didn’t think would have hair on them, body parts that no one else has seen but your own eyes. you almost can’t believe you were in this position right now, but giselle was right – a stranger was better for this. the only thing keeping you from bolting was the comforting knowledge that you’d never have to make eye contact with the person who was currently in between your legs again.

after an hour and several compromising positions later, you were finally done. your skin felt smoother than a baby’s, which was honestly kind of mind-blowing.

giselle was waiting for you at the reception, a bag in her hand, her eyes lighting up as soon as she saw you, “okay!, so i got you a little starter kit filled with makeup, skincare and all the other essentials,” she said, practically bouncing, “let’s go back to my place and i’ll teach you how to use it!”

her excitement was infectious and you couldn’t help but smile just as wide – her bubbly energy sinking into your bones in the best way.

making your way to giselle’s bedroom, you notice how different your rooms were. while yours was covered with posters and music records from all your favorite bands, her’s was covered in magazine clippings of what you assumed are the most popular fashion trends.

while your shelves were filled with books of all genres, she had an entire shelf dedicated to makeup and skincare products. another filled with several handbags and shoes. you weren’t even aware that girls had to have that many.

“sit, my canvas,” she says, lightly teasing, pointing to the chair in front of her vanity mirror as she pulls things out of the bag she gave you.

“we’re keeping it simple, just the basics: primer, foundation, brows, blush, and lipstick of course.”

you nod like you understood anything she was saying. she caught the panic in your eyes and smiled softer this time, “don’t worry,” she said, uncapping a small bottle of primer, “i got you.”

she talked you through every step. primer, foundation, blending like your life depended on it. she filled in one of your brows and handed you the pencil, urging you to try it out yourself. you tried to mimic her, hand shaky, tongue slightly poking out in concentration. this was definitely harder than she made it out to be.

“you’re a natural,” she says, satisfied with your work and you can feel your confidence growing with every second you spend with her. it’s as if she was sharing the amount of confidence she had with you.

by the end of it, you stared at yourself in the mirror and barely recognized your own reflection. not because the makeup was dramatic, it wasn’t, but because you looked like someone who belonged.

like someone who chose how she wanted to be seen.

“there…you look beautiful,” giselle murmurs behind you, chin resting lightly on your shoulder, “i have one last thing for you,” she says, reaching for another bag and you’re not sure how you could ever repay her for all of this.

as if she could read your thoughts, she quickly says, “don’t worry about it, jeno paid for it”

“glasses can be hot, but the ones you have now, completely hides your face so…,” she pulls out two things, “first, i got you these silver ones, they’re smaller but they’ll sit on your face better,” she hands it to you.

you take them, fingers brushing over the smooth metal. the glasses were cute, not your usual style, but when you slipped them on and looked in the mirror, you instantly understood what she meant. they frame your features instead of swallowing them whole.

giselle pats herself on the back, clearly happy with her decision, “and if you’re feeling a little braver,” she trails off, pulling out the last item, “-contact lenses, i asked jeno for your prescription so those should be good, they’re pretty easy to put on too but just in case, i’ll message you a youtube video with step by step instructions,” she smiles at you, soft and sincere.

and you can’t hold it in anymore. her kind actions pull at your heartstrings as the dam breaks – tears sliding down your cheeks before you can stop them.

“thank you, giselle,” you say in full gratitude, voice thick with emotion.

“of course,” she whispers, her eyes matching yours as she pulls you into a hug.

“-now stop crying, okay, makeup is expensive,” she says, laughing as she wipes at her own damp lashes. you both burst into giggles, the room light again despite the weight in your heart.

and then a knock makes its way to her bedroom door, echoing throughout her room.

giselle quickly fixes your tear stained cheeks, “alright, if you ever need anything else, just let me know okay?,” she says, and you nod, thankful for her kindness.

“let's see what your best friend has to say,” she squeals as she rushes over to the door, swinging it open and revealing jeno on the other side.

you hadn’t even thought about how jeno would react or how other people would take in your new appearance. you suddenly felt extremely nervous. he was the first person who was going to see you like this — you wanted him to react well.

jeno steps into the room, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, expression casual until he sees you and suddenly he feels like every air has been knocked out of his lungs.

you have always been pretty but right now you look absolutely, breathtakingly, beautiful.

he realizes he’s been staring in silence for too long when he notices you shift in your seat, the words, “what?,” slipping from your lips, almost harsh, trying to sound casual.

he blinks a few times, gulping “n-nothing y-you just look–,”

“different?,” you complete his sentence, afraid he will start teasing you. his stare becomes more uncomfortable with every second of silence that passes.

“-r-really p-pretty,” he finally manages to say. a smile takes over your features, his compliment completely blowing away the feelings of doubt that were starting to cloud.

jeno almost wants to beat himself up for stuttering so much.

“ahh, my work here is done,” giselle beams, looking in between you with a knowing look only she knew the meaning of. she clapped like she’s the proud host of a makeover show, as she should. jeno clears his throat, immediately reminded that you both had an audience.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

a soft knock echoed at your dorm room’s door, followed by jeno’s familiar voice. when you opened it, you caught the tiny flicker in his eyes. he was still trying to get used to your new appearance. its been two days since giselle’s successful makeover and he still hasn’t fully adjusted to this version of you.

but it was time to start step two of the operation - closet cleanse and wardrobe upgrade.

“wait,” you say, squinting at him, “you’re the one that’s gonna look at my clothes?,” you say, bewildered.

what did jeno know about ladies’ fashion?

“yeah, who else would it be?,” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“i don't know, i thought you would’ve brought giselle or another one of your lady friends,” you mumbled as he casually made himself at home on your bed.

he grinned, flopping back against your pillows like he owned the place, “nope, just me, don’t worry…i know what looks good,” he says, a playful smile on his lips as you eyed him suspiciously, “and how exactly are you going to rate my clothes?,” you ask.

he shrugs, “i’ll figure it out as we go, now come on, show me what you got,” he says, making himself comfortable in your sheets.

truthfully, his rating was completely unscientific and wildly biased. he was judging your clothes based on the question: if a girl walked by in this outfit, would i say hi?

and he knows damn well that if you ever found out you were being styled based on his imaginary dream girl, you’d kick him right where the sun won't shine. so he kept that little detail to himself.

“ugh, okay,” you groaned, giving in as you started taking your clothes out of your wardrobe and holding them up for him.

jeno leaned back, arms folded behind his head, watching you with an amused glint in his eyes. he was way too comfortable in your space but then again, he always had been.

one by one you pulled clothes from your closet – the shirts you’ve had since middle school, some with funky patterns, others just straight up horrendous. pants with weird patterns and those that didn’t help accentuate your figure at all.

for once, you were thankful for being one of the lucky ones who didn’t have a roommate. no one else needed to witness this humiliation.

jeno, however, was getting the full show. he has never realized how bad your wardrobe was until now. each new item of clothing you pulled out seemed to be worse than the last. and then came the final blow.

the naruto and pokemon shirts. his oversized naruto and pokemon shirts. jeno’s jaw slacks open, like the very memory of those shirts carried his own personal trauma, “why the hell do you have those?!,” he blurted, sitting up like he’d just seen a ghost.

“your dad gave them to me when you outgrew them, i just kept them,” you shrug.

“burn it.” his voice was flat, non-negotiable.

“what?! no!, these are comfortable and i like wearing them to sleep!,” you defend, clutching the shirts like they were priceless heirlooms. jeno stares at you wide eyed, expression teetering somewhere between disgust and betrayal “you cannot let anyone see you in those,” he says, deadly serious, making you chuckle.

“stop being so dramatic, i bet if you wore these now, people would think it’s cool,” you say and jeno shakes his head furiously, like he can't even fathom the idea of ever wearing it again, “no, absolutely not, i’ve buried that version of myself. deep.”

“well, i’m not burning them!,” you declare, shoving the shirts deep into your drawer, making sure he can’t pull it out behind your back.

by the end of it you had two piles. the “i guess that’s okay” pile and the “don’t ever wear that again, that’s going straight to donation,” pile which was unfortunately about three times bigger.

“jeno, i have like no clothes left!,” you say, plopping down on the bed next to him, limbs heavy with defeat.

your room looked like it was run through by a tornado, clothes scattered in every corner.

without a word, jeno pulls you into his arms, fingers brushing your hair out of your face with an ease that only comes from years of friendship, “we’re gonna go shopping,” he murmurs against your temple, “it’s gonna be fine.”

you let yourself melt into his side with a sigh, “okay, but like…in five minutes, i’m too tired to even attempt being a hot girl right now,” he chuckles softly and you feel the sound more than you hear it, sleep tugging you under.

jeno lets his eyes flutter shut too, a small contented smile on his lips.

five minutes, she said. he’d give her ten.

ten minutes turned into three hours and you woke up with your legs tangled with the boy beside you, “neno,” you groaned, shoving him off of you, “you’re so fucking heavy,” you whine.

jeno slowly wakes up, blinking the sleep away as he sluggishly rubbed at his eyes, “fuck, what time is it?,” he says before reaching out for his phone and answering his own question.

it was only 6PM, still plenty of time to run to the mall and get you your new upgraded outfits.

and exactly thirty minutes later, jeno was dragging you around all the stores with the latest fashion trends. you didn’t even know your best friend knew these stores existed, “how do you know so much about this?” you ask him, eyeing him suspiciously.

he shot you a grin over his shoulder, “well, i do listen to every girl i talk to, you know” he points out and you’re reminded of the fact that your sweet, nerdy best friend was also one of the university’s hot, sexy, fuck-boy.

you rolled your eyes, “gross.” you still can’t believe he even has that reputation. wanting to smack yourself every time you get reminded of it. how could your glasses-wearing, braces-clad, cried-over-a-hamster best friend turn into some kind of lady killer? it didn’t feel real.

“hey, it’s called research,” he teased, “gotta keep them interested somehow.”

he grabs a shopping cart, pulling at everything he thought looked nice on the mannequins, as well as a couple of pieces of clothing that fit his previous criteria.

you follow him around like a lost child. you don’t even remember the last time you had a shopping trip and bought something for yourself. you were usually only here to buy gifts or if you’re forced to buy new underwear.

after a while of aimlessly wandering as jeno does all the work, you find yourself in the dressing room, a shopping bag filled with clothes in your arm.

now here you were, staring at your reflection in pure disbelief. the first matching outfit jeno picked out was a tiny pink skirt and an even tinier pink crop top that left your midriff exposed, “uhhm, jeno i dont know about this one,” you say from the other side of the door, nervous.

“step out, let me see,” he says, patiently sitting outside of your dressing room stall, voice relaxed, clearly unbothered.

slowly, hesitantly, your fingers hover over the lock before unlocking the door, debating on whether or not you should let him see you in this ridiculous outfit that is showing way too much skin than you’re used to. before you could completely psych yourself out, you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself before finally swinging the door wide open, revealing the outfit to him.

jeno looked up and almost choked on air.

the outfit definitely hugged your curves in all the right places, made your skin glow and your legs look longer, and god, yes, he would definitely go up to you and say hi if he saw you at a party.

but then he thinks about all the other boy’s who would also go up to you and say hi and do god knows what else and the thought almost knocks him out.

“yeah, that doesn’t look comfortable, i don't like it,” he says a half lie. you quickly agree, relieved, as you go back into the dressing room to try on your next outfit.

jeno feels hot.

the air was too thick and he wanted to dunk his head in cold water to remind himself that this was you.

he shakes the thoughts away. these are thoughts he shouldn’t be thinking about, especially with his best friend. but it was no use. because the next time you stepped out of the dressing room you were wearing a white skirt a little longer than the last one and a light blue top that covered what needed to be covered but was just enough to exude that sexiness he liked in a girl and he swore he needed to get into a bathroom. now.

“this one’s a bit better, i could actually wear this,” you comment, innocently looking at him through those silver glasses that makes your eyes pop out, a small smile on display and all he could do was nod, “yeah…t-that one’s nice,” he says, disguising his stutter under a fake cough.

you smiled, pleased with his answer, and he felt his stomach flip.

he was in so much trouble.

this torture went on for a good fifteen more outfits, tiny side comments coming from him while his sanity continues to slip just a little more. his pants feel more restricted every time you walk out dressed in the cutest outfits that looked like they were made for you.

the worst ones were the ones you liked. the ones that made your eyes twinkle in the mirror and made you smile like you were finally starting to see yourself the way he saw you – absolutely beautiful.

there’s a million f words running through his head.

why the fuck did he think this was a good idea? why the fuckity fuck didn’t he just ask giselle to add this to her makeover process? why the fuckity fuck fuck did he throw all those tiny tops and short skirts into your basket? why the flying fuckity fuck fuck fuck shit fuck are you so fucking pretty? and more importantly – what the actual fuck are you, his best friend, doing to him?

after a long three hours of internal screaming – it was finally over.

you emerged from the mall looking like you’d just won a game show, all smiles and sunshine, bubbling with excitement, happy with the outfits your best friend picked out for you while jeno trudged behind you, hauling ten full shopping bags, half amused, half in pain.

he drove in near silence as you yapped on and on about your makeover with giselle, every detail you hadn’t had the chance to spill yet now tumbling out all at once.

in the middle of your yapping session, you noticed the boy wasn’t as active as he usually was, no silly side comments, no teasing remarks.

“neno..,” you sweetly called out to him and jeno nearly swerved.

god, the things that nickname did to him.

“you okay?,” you asked, eyes flicking over to him.

“yeah bunny, just tired,” he said with a small smile, trying to play it cool.

“that was a lot of shopping for a guy, y’know?” he glanced at you quickly, then back to the road, “keep going, tell me more about your day with giselle,” he says.

you eyed him for a second longer, as if trying to read him, then picked up right where you left off.

he dropped you off and made sure you were safely in your room. before he could leave you surprised him by reaching out and pulling him into a hug. with your arm tight around his waist, face pressed against his chest, you let out a soft sigh, “thank you, neno, sorry for taking up so much of your time.”

jeno chuckles, gently smoothing your hair down with one hand, hoping you don’t realize how fast his heart was beating, “you can never take too much of my time, bunny, you know that” he says, reassuring you.

you look up at him, with that sweet, grateful smile that’s currently driving him crazy, “you’re the best best friend in the entire world,” you say, before leaning up and pressing a sweet, innocent kiss to his cheek.

jeno should’ve been used to it.

you’ve been kissing his cheek ever since you were five years old and playing in the mud together. he argues today just wasn’t his day.

maybe it was the outfit? maybe it was the soft curve of your smile? or maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t had sex in so long (two days) it was affecting his logic?

whatever it was, that little peck nearly sent him spiraling.

“go and rest,” you said, pushing him towards your door and out of your dorm room, “thanks for shopping with me,” you ended the night with a lopsided grin before shutting your door as he finally made his way out.

he didn’t go home right away. instead he found himself at lia’s place, hands roaming and mind elsewhere, trying to exorcise whatever the hell was clawing at him from the inside out.

he kissed her like he meant it, touched her like he was desperate – because he was. so, so desperate for release. he fucked the shit out of her, releasing all his sexual urges as he guiltily pictured you in those tight, revealing outfits.

pictured you smiling up at him having absolutely no idea the effect you left behind. pictured your sweet voice calling him that nickname you gave him when you were fourteen before you stole his first kiss.

and when he finally finished, breathless and sweaty, staring up at the ceiling of a room that wasn’t his, next to a girl he barely knew, all could think about was: what the actual fuck is wrong with me?

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

the easy part of this transformation was over — the shopping spree, the haircut, the subtle change of your appearance had all been external.

you could already feel the power your new look gave you. for the first time in your life, you realized that pretty privilege wasn’t just some exaggerated social theory. it was real. you felt it in the smallest gestures.

on your way to the library, retracing steps you’ve taken hundreds of times before, everything felt a little different. the way people intently held the door open for you, even if you were still several steps away. the way they’d immediately made space for you in the elevator. and the way someone had already rushed to help you grab a book from the top shelf – you used to have to drag the ladder with you just to get it before.

however, just because life became a tad bit easier, doesn’t mean you felt comfortable.

what had once been comfort in invisibility was now replaced with the pressure of being seen. you weren’t used to the lingering glances or the compliments or the catcalls — it made your skin crawl, making you want to hide under the table until everyone leaves.

when jeno finally walked into the library, his eyes landed on you immediately. you wore a soft white top with jeans that finally hugged your frame and a light blue cardigan around your shoulders, collarbones out for display. it was one of the outfits you bought last night.

the guilt on his shoulders felt heavier as he was reminded of what he did — what he thought of.

forcefully shaking the thoughts away, he quietly sits right next to you. his gaze drifts to your legs anxiously bouncing under the table. a sign that something was clearly bothering you. gently, he placed a hand on your knee. you flinched slightly, then looked up at him, your expression distant – like you just realized he was there.

“bunny, what’s wrong?,” he asks, voice low and tender, threaded with concern.

“they’re all staring, jeno,” you whispered, almost like you didn’t want the words to exist.

he looks around the room, noticing the way everyone was too deep into their own worlds and while he didn’t see anyone obviously gawking, he knew it didn’t matter. it wasn’t about them. it was about what you were feeling inside.

“no one’s staring, bunny,” he murmured, voice delicate, like handling glass.

he knew better than to dismiss it. he recalls what it was like when he stepped out without the comfort of his thick-rimmed glasses and oversized t-shirts for the first time. remembers the way his heart was pounding in his chest, afraid of the judgments he might receive. he didn’t need to guess what you were feeling. he’s sure you were battling the same internal conflict right now. but just like how he got through it, he knows you will too. he’ll make sure of it.

you shut your eyes, taking a deep breath, “sorry,” you whispered, exhaling like the breath had been stuck in your chest all day, “im just- being paranoid, i’m not used to people noticing me,” you say softly.

“that’s okay,” jeno said, a warm smile blooming on his face as his hand moved to your back, rubbing slow, soothing circles, “that’s our lesson for today.”

jeno gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he set his bag down beside you, “okay bunny, first thing’s first is it’s all about your mindset,” he taps his head, pointing to his brain and you can’t help but giggle at the silly antics.

“im serious,” he insisted, lips twitching into a smirk, “if someone stares, don't spiral and think ‘they’re judging me.’ instead think ‘i look good, that’s why they’re staring,’” he says.

your eyes pop out of your head, he says it like it was so easy, “doesn’t that sound a little too egotistical?,” you said, nose wrinkling.

“not egotistical, just confident,” he counters, “there’s a difference.”

you gave him a skeptical look but he was already sitting up straighter, leaving no room for arguments.

“next is posture, stop hiding behind your books and sit straight, shoulders back, chin up,” he demonstrates.

you copied his posture, finding his seriousness amusing as you rolled your shoulders back, “like this?,”

“yeah,” he nodded, approving, “you already look more confident”

you laughed quietly, already feeling silly, “i feel like i’m pretending to be someone i’m not,” you point out.

“well, confidence is pretending, at first anyway,” he replied, shrugging, “eventually you start owning up to it, it starts becoming comfortable.”

you studied your best friend for a minute or two. there was a time where he would hide behind his books as well, would even hide behind you. you realized now that his change didn’t just come out of nowhere – it wasn’t just a random growth spurt. it was something he’d worked on, something that took time and practice, just like you were doing now. you wondered how he ever managed to do this alone.

“and the most important thing to know, bunny,” he adds, voice gentler now, “you’re allowed to take up space, don’t ever apologize for being seen.”

you carried his words with you, tucking them somewhere deep, somewhere that had always longed to hear them.

you sat there in silence for a beat until jeno shifted beside you, nudging your arm lightly, “okay,” he said, eyes glinting with a mischievous spark, “time for your first assignment.”

you turned to him, instantly suspicious, “assignment?,”

he nodded, already scanning the room, “see that guy by the window,” he points to possibly the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen reading a worn copy of the hunger games: catching fire. you recognize him. you’re pretty sure he was in your elective art class.

“you’re going to flirt with him,” jeno smirks and your eyes almost bulge out of your head.

“you’re joking! that’s hyunjin,” you whisper, head whipping toward jeno.

“so?,”

“so, he’s…he’s too cool and i don't even know how to flirt!,” you whisper-shouted, hands flailing helplessly at your sides.

he chuckles, “you were the same girl who threatened to beat up my bullies when we were 11, you’re telling me you’re afraid of a boy now?,” his smile is playful, lightly provoking you. and when you don’t reply, he knew you knew that he was right, “just compliment him, smile, say he has nice hands or something.”

your mouth fell open, staring at him in horror, “that’s so dumb, jeno. what if he thinks i'm hitting on him?”

“...you are hitting on him,” he said slowly, like it was obvious.

you groaned, dragging your hands over your face, “i’m not comfortable with this.”

“that’s the point. confidence doesn’t grow in comfort zones,” jeno says and you wonder when he’s gotten so wise. usually you were the one who had these motivational words ready for him.

staring down at your lap, nerves buzzing like static in your fingertips, you take a moment to think it through. you glanced back at your best friend, he was already looking at you proudly – like he believed in you more than you believe in yourself.

you let out a breathy laugh, the absurdity the situation weighing on your chest, “if this ends in disaster–,”

“it wont,” he cuts you off and you knew there was no way to back out of this situation. besides you were the one who asked him to help you. slowly, you got up from your chair, taking a deep breath and making your way towards the boy.

“hi, hyunjin,” you start off quiet, timid, slightly afraid.

hyunjin darts his eyes away from his book, looking up at you, “hey” he replies. when you don’t say anything else right away, he shifted in his seat, “did you need anything?,” he says, an awkward smile on his lips.

you swallowed hard, nerves tangling in your throat, “i uhm…just wanted to tell you—you have nice hands!,” you say, a little too cheerful for your liking. you were internally screaming. curse jeno for putting that in your head. you actually can’t believe you used it.

he blinked. then a soft laugh escaped him, not mocking, but surprised, amused. “oh? uhm, thanks?,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes, “i like what you’ve done with your hair,” he compliments, leaving you shocked.

“what?”

he points vaguely in your direction, “you got a haircut, right? it look’s nice.”

you blinked, stunned into silence for a second too long. “thank you,” you finally breathed, cheeks warming instantly.

you didn’t realize he noticed you before. let alone remember you enough to notice a change.

“you’re welcome,” he smiles and you awkwardly wave goodbye.

you made your back to jeno, so certain that you looked like a tomato. dropping into the seat beside him, burying your face in your hands, “that was so embarrassing,” you mumbled through your fingers.

jeno tried to hide his laughter behind his fingers, afraid to be called out by the librarian for being too loud, “you actually told him he had nice hands,” he wheezed.

“shut up!,” you groaned, “that was your fault!,” you swat at his arm, “my brain just – stopped working.”

jeno calms himself down, sitting up straighter now, the teasing falling away just a little, “yeah, but you did it…and he talked to you, noticed your hair, said he liked it.”

the memory of hyunjin’s compliment flickers in the back of your mind and a small swell of pride flutters in your chest, “he did, didn’t he…,” a shy smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

jeno nods, eyes full of tenderness, “see? you’ve never been invisible,” he points out.

the words settle over you like a warm blanket and for a moment you just sit with them, the weight of the realization sinking in.

“i still felt like i was going to pass out though,” you admitted, a thin, embarrassed smile on display.

“that’s okay, confidence is scary,“ jeno said simply, “but the more you practice, the easier it’ll be,” he sends you a warm smile, never making you feel like these feelings were wrong.

without thinking, you leaned into his shoulder, seeking the steady comfort he always gave you, “thanks, neno,” you breathe out.

he freezes for a second, just for a second, before bumping his head lightly against yours, “anytime.”

then he pulls back just enough to grin mischievously, “now, go back to hyunjin and say something a little less awkward.”

“wait? right now?!,” you whip your head toward him, horrified once again.

“yes, right now…go,” he’s already pushing you up and out of your seat, laughing under his breath as he watches you stumble forward, nerves buzzing anew.

trying to ignore the way your heart pounds against your ribs, you walk back up to hyunjin, this time with a bit more confidence, capturing his attention once more.

“actually i…i wanted to say that’s a really good book,” you nod toward the hunger games book in his hand and hyunjin lights up instantly.

“right?, i’m on my third re-read,” he says excitedly.

with a casual gesture, he pulls out the chair next to him inviting you to sit as you talked about the masterpiece that is suzanne collins and the hunger games trilogy. the conversation went on for a good twenty minutes, it was easy and light and fun, a little playful sometimes. you lose yourself in the exchange, forgetting the nerves that once clawed at your chest.

when hyunjin bid his goodbye, you practically floated back to your seat. your heart was pounding in your ears but in the best way possible. you can’t believe that just happened. you usually only talk to people in class, if you’re required to.

jeno watched you. watched that twinkle in your eye appear, your smile beaming as the conversation continues and it’s the first time throughout this whole process that he sees the change.

you were slowly bringing back the girl he knew. the girl you lost along the way. the girl he always knew was still there, just waiting for a reason to shine.

when you returned to him, he can’t help but tease you just a little bit, “look who’s suddenly ms. social butterfly,” he grins, earning an eye roll from you as you tried to wipe the giddy smile off your face, “shut up”

“no seriously,” he says, leaning forward now, resting his elbows on the table, “twenty full minutes, i was about to send a search party,” he smirks.

“always so dramatic,” you huff but your smile betrays you, “i didn’t think it’d actually go that well,” you admit, cheeks still pink.

“you flirted, you sat down, talked about hunger games lore like it was natural…if i didn't know you, i’d think you do this every day,” he smirks.

you narrow your eyes, “are you mocking me or hyping me up?,” you say playfully.

“why not both?,” he shrugs, clearly enjoying himself. his tone softens just enough to say, “but seriously bunny, im proud of you,” and you smile at him like he just handed you the stars in the sky.

“thanks…i feel kinda…good.”

“confidence will do that to you,” jeno says, nudging your foot under the table.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

the next few days turn into a full crash course in flirting 101 with lee jeno.

one afternoon, he dares you to make eye contact with the cute guy handing out flyers in campus, not just a glance, real eye contact. it sounds simple but it makes your palms sweat. you were able to managed a flirty smile too and when the boy stammers mid-sentence, jeno practically fist-pumps the air behind you.

another day, he made you strike up a casual conversation with the barista at the cafe. told you to be a little playful, a little flirty. you passed with flying colors, only stumbling over a few words, the barista writing his number on your cup as well as giving you an extra cookie “on the house.” you nearly skip back to jeno, face lit up like christmas morning.

each small win builds on the last, stacking slowly, steadily until the idea of putting yourself out there and owning up to your confidence doesn’t seem so scary anymore.

through it all, jeno watches with the same steady pride adoring the fact that you were learning how to take up space and shine again.

but then comes the moment that even he isn’t prepared for.

it’s a warm afternoon, golden light slanting through the library windows, when jeno leans over the table, a mischievous glint in his eye, “alright, new assignment.”

you smirk at him, accepting his challenge, “what now?”

he tips his chin toward the entrance where sungchan – tall, charming, the boy you’ve had a quite, hopeless crush on for years – walks in, balancing a coffee and his bag slung casually over one shoulder.

the air is knocked out of your lungs and you suddenly feel dizzy, hoping jeno doesn’t follow through whatever he had in mind.

“sungchan,” jeno says, making your heart skip a bit. he grins, already knowing the effect he has on you, “go invite him to the dream frat party this weekend.”

you stare at him like he’s grown two heads, “are you insane?!, that’s sungchan!”

“which makes this the perfect challenge,” he teases.

you open your mouth to protest but jeno cuts you off with a nudge on your arm, “c’mon show me you’ve learned something,” he mocks playfully.

you groan dramatically but your feet somehow move anyway, heart pounding so loudly you’re sure jeno can hear it from where he’s sitting. you were determined to show jeno (and yourself) that you have completely embraced the confidence.

you gather every shred of courage you have and cross the room toward the boy who inspired this whole glow-up.

sungchan looks up just as you approach, his smile lighting up the whole room. you send him a smile – a little flirty, a little too sweet.

“hey,” sungchan says, voice warm, “you’re in my psych class, right? you always ace every test”

you blink, a little thrown by the fact the he paid attention to you, “oh yeah, that’s me,” you say with a soft, bashful laugh, earning a chuckle from the boy in front of you.

he leans against the shelves a little, eyes raking over you in a way that makes your stomach twist. it’s not the uncomfortable kind of stare you’ve been learning to dodge lately. it’s something softer, curious, warm. like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“you look different today,” he says, tilting his head, studying you, “���in a good way.”

you feel the heat rush to your cheeks but you force yourself to stay steady, remembering everything jeno has taught you.

“thanks,” you manage, giving him a more playful, more bold smile, “maybe you just weren’t paying enough attention before.”

this surprises him, eyebrows shooting up before a slow, impressed grin stretches across his face.

“maybe i wasn’t,” he admits, the easy charm in his voice sending your heart into a full sprint.

for a second, neither of you moves. the space between you humming with quiet tension – intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

you clear your throat lightly, breaking the spell, “come to the dream frat party this weekend,” you say it like it wasn’t an invitation. wasn’t a question. didn’t give him any room to deny.

sungchan’s grin turns teasing, a spark lighting in his eyes, “am i coming as your date or…?,” he leans toward you, trailing off, leaving the question open, playful.

you bite back a laugh, finding just enough courage to meet his gaze head on, “i guess you’ll have to come to find out.”

he stares at you for a heartbeat longer. you’ve definitely piqued his curiosity. and then he laughs, easy and alluring, “okay beautiful, you’ve convinced me. i’ll be there,” he whispers for only you to hear before sending you a wink and walking away.

back at the table, jeno watches. something inside him shifts. it’s subtle, a small, tight pull low in his chest but it settles in bitterly.

he pushes it away, refusing to acknowledge it because this wasn’t supposed to matter. he wasn’t supposed to care about anything but seeing you happy.

you make your way back to him, beaming, “he said yes!,” you practically squeal, dropping into your chair like your knees might give out at any second.

jeno chuckles, reaching out to ruffle your hair, a familiar, easy gesture that suddenly feels heavier than it should.

“of course he did, you’re impossible to say no to,” he tries to tease, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and you’re too giddy to notice any of it. you bat his hand away, cheeks flushed and full of life.

jeno is forced to swallow past the uncomfortable lump rising in his throat.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

tonight is the dream fraternity’s party.

the night where you finally put everything you’ve learned, everything you’ve worked for, to the test. this was it. the final step in your glow up and you felt that electric sense of anticipation crackling just beneath your skin.

you were done waiting. done watching from the sidelines.

you were ready to let loose, to fully step into this new version of yourself.

you stepped into the house, the air thick with excitement. a tight white dress clings to your body, a bold choice you would have second-guessed before. you ditched your glasses for the night, switching it with the contact lenses giselle gave you — embracing the braveness.

this time, when you notice the stares, the double takes, the whispered comments, you don’t shrink back. you don’t flinch. you let them wash over you, feeding the fire inside you.

all those lessons with jeno clearly worked. that change in mindset was all you needed. the attention makes you glow. makes you feel powerful.

looking around the room, you searched for your best friend before finally spotting him in the corner at the back, near the kitchen.

you send him a tiny wave, he sends one back, excitement bubbling through you but before you could make your way towards him, a hand on your arm stops you.

“y/n! you look so pretty oh my god!,” giselle screeches over the loud music, a smile beaming on her face as she pulls you in for a tight hug. she was clearly already intoxicated, her balance a little wobbly but her energy still infectious.

“c’mon,” she says, already dragging you around the room with her, “you have to meet my friends!”

you happily followed her around, giggles escaping your lips, nervousness falling away with every step.

before you know it you were three shots in, dancing with the girls – giselle, somi, and angel, who you already knew before as jaemin’s girlfriend.

the music was loud, your laughters were louder.

and for the first time, you aren’t overthinking a single thing.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

when jeno saw you walk into the front door, it was like time had slowed down, like a thousand cherry blossom petals had burst into the air around you, everyone else blurring into a side character of your story.

you have always been pretty. always been beautiful. but tonight, you were absolutely radiant.

and it wasn’t even the dress, though he can’t deny how much he loved the way white clung to you, soft and luminous.

it was the way you walked around the room with your head held high. the way you glowed with every step, not shying away under anyone’s gaze. the way your smile beamed.

you weren’t hiding anymore.

you have finally stepped into your own skin, finally brought back the girl he knew.

in that moment, it wasn’t just the girl standing in front of him that he saw. it was every version of you that was always beautiful – the girl that was the first one out of the house, chasing after his hamster. the girl that didn’t care if she only had two teeth left, she would still eat what she wanted. the girl who was fighting bullies three times her size just to protect him. the girl who was brave enough to kiss him first. the girl who learned to pick up the pieces.

when you waved at him, he felt like he was on cloud nine. it felt like he had stepped into his shoes all those years ago – a boy hopelessly in awe of the only person he ever wanted to see him.

and when you started walking towards him, it was like his lungs could no longer function. you stole every breath he had.

but before you could give it back to him, giselle pulls you away, spinning you into the chaos of the party, leaving jeno standing there, fighting the urge to follow.

“was that, y/n?,” jaemin says, popping out from nowhere, almost giving him a heart attack as he clutches his chest.

he punches the boy in his arm before confirming that it was in fact, you. jaemin looks at him with a knowing glance. he recognizes the familiar twinkle in jeno’s eye.

“wow,” jisung comments from his other side, making him pause.

when did all his friends show up?

“she looks really hot,” jisung adds, eyes following your figure across the room.

a devilish grin appeared on jeno’s lips and in one quick motion, he had jisung under his arm, ruffling his hair, “no, no, no…not the hair hyunggg!,” he struggled from the older boy’s grip before jeno finally released him.

“point taken, won’t say anything about her ever again,” jisung pouts, fixing his hair back into place.

“i don’t know what you mean,” jeno smiles playfully, “i just wanted to play with you.”

chenle chuckles from nearby, “oh definitely, it’s totally not because you’re possessive and way too protective of y/n,” he points out.

“i am not possessive,” jeno argues, his voice defensive, “protective, sure, but she’s my best friend guys, our parents will kill me if something bad happens to her,” he says.

“she’s also a grown woman,” renjun points out, “you can’t keep pushing away every guy who thinks she’s hot, you know?”

“im not pushing away every guy!…just you guys,” jeno protests. he would never let any of his friends touch you, knowing what he knows.

there’s a pause as the group stares at him, “mhm, cause her really tall, really muscular, really intimidating, doesn’t smile at anyone, guy best friend being by her side almost all the time isn’t pushing away any boys,” haechan adds, teasing.

“it’s not my fault those boys don’t have the balls to ask her out,” jeno mutters, looking at mark for some support, hoping that he’d somehow take his side and tell the others that they were being ridiculous.

mark shrugs in a don’t look at me kind of way and jeno can’t help but groan in defeat.

“well, that boy definitely has the balls,” jaemin nods towards the dance floor as jeno follows his line of vision, his eyes immediately on your figure once again.

you're still with the girls but this time, sungchan and a few other guys from the riize fraternity have surrounded you, laughing and chatting with you.

“shouldn’t you get your girlfriend, jaemin?,” mark asks casually, “i know that wonbin guy has a thing for her,”

jaemin just laughs, completely unbothered, “nah, he doesn't stand a chance,” he says, sipping from his drink as the boy’s laugh.

but jeno knew that sungchan definitely had a chance with you. nothing is funny.

sungchan leans in close, whispers something in your ear and you were laughing. the laugh he thought was only reserved for him. he feels his fists clench up on his sides.

“you gonna push him away, jeno?,” haechan teases by his ear, a smirk playing on his lips, earning him a punch right on the stomach.

“shut up,” he says, haechan clutching over, his laughter mixing with his pain. he totally deserved that.

“c‘mon jisung, let’s find your girl for the night,” haechan manages to say in between choked breaths, before he dragged jisung and mark out of the room, resuming their fuckboy101 classes.

jeno watches as sungchan and you continue to talk, his gaze never wavering from the two of you. every inch of him wants to march over there and pull you away but he doesn’t. instead, he stays rooted in place, his eyes burning holes in the back of your head, feeling his pulse quicken in ways he can’t explain.

lia, his current situationship, walks up to him.

“okayy, that’s our cue,” chenle whispers before all the boys dispersed leaving jeno alone.

he doesn’t even greet her, doesn’t make an effort to say hi, eyes still glued on your figure.

“hi handsome,” lia drags her hands up his shoulders, settling on the back of his neck, her lips finding the side of his jaw.

it all happened so quickly.

one second you were still with the girls, the next sungchan dragged you to the side, his lips on yours. jeno’s jaw clenches. his heart dropping.

he needed to stop looking. he needed a distraction.

he finally acknowledges the girl clung to his neck. she reeks of alcohol and vape smoke. jeno turns to kiss her anyway.

he let’s lia drag him up the stairs, taking one last look at you. he let’s her lead him into his bedroom. let’s her strip off his clothes.

he knew you were going to be okay, knew you could handle your alcohol after many beer nights with him and he definitely knew that you were too smart to get yourself into any real trouble.

he can’t ruin this night for you.

“fuck me like you did last time,” lia whispers in his ear, trailing kisses down his neck, “fuck me like you mean it,” her hand travels down, wrapping around his already hard cock and jeno did.

he fucked her like she was all he needed. abused her hole, used her to release all his sexual tension, trying to push away the image of you from his mind.

but he found that every time you appeared, the better it felt and soon he was clenching, body shaking, his orgasm taking over as he came…with your name spilling from his lips.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

bunny: come over please it’s an emergency.

jeno was banging on your door in under eight minutes of that text. which was absolutely ridiculous considering the fraternity house was a twenty minute walk away from your building. a million thoughts were racing in his head.

what happened after he left you at the party that constitutes this emergency text? were you hurt?

you swung the door open, perfectly intact. no tears, no bruises, just you – in shorts and one of his your oversized naruto t-shirt, blinking at him like he was the one being ridiculous.

side note: it’s insane how you manage to make that shirt look sexy.

he exhaled hard, one hand bracing on the doorframe as he caught his breath.

“did you run here?,” you ask, stunned, noticing the sweat dripping down the side of his face.

“you said it was an emergency,” he shot back, chest still heaving.

you offered a sheepish smile, “sorry, come in,” before walking into your room. jeno followed, shutting the door with a soft click.

“what happened?” he asked, eyes scanning you again, just to be sure, as he sat on the edge of your bed watching you pace back and forth.

“sungchan kissed me,” you tell him.

he blinked, processing, he knew that. he saw you. the reminder leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. he pushes it away, playing the best friend card once more.

“that’s good? right?,” he says cautiously, cursing the fact that he was your best friend right now and had to listen to you talk about another guy, “that’s what you wanted?”

“yeah but,” you swallowed, embarrassment already creeping up your neck, “but i didn’t know what to do!”

“what do you mean?,” he asks dumbfounded, “you just…kiss him back.”

“it’s not that simple, you weren’t there – i panicked! i-i froze! i was too into my head and then i just – i ran,” you ramble, cringing as you relived what happened last night.

a snort escapes jeno before he could stop it.

you narrowed your eyes, “don’t laugh!, it was so humiliating, i can’t believe i ran away like a literal child!,” you groan in your hands.

he tried to control his expression but the corner of his mouths betrayed him, eyes twinkling with amusement, “y/n, it’s not a big deal, you were nervous,” he reassures, “just tell him you were drunk and then try again, it's not the end of the world,” he says it so easily – like you didn’t just go through the worst moment of your life. and that’s saying a lot considering you had a dead mom.

“that’s the problem, i don’t know what i'm doing, i always thought when it happened i’d just know but i didn’t,” you whine in frustration, pulling at your hair.

he must be crazy to think you’d get a different result if you went up to sungchan now and kissed him. you’re almost sure the same thing would happen.

“you’ll be fine next time, you’ll be prepared for it,” he says. the thought of there being a next time makes you panic.

“will i?,” you cut in, “what if i freeze again?,”

“you won’t”

“you don’t know that.”

he opened his mouth to argue, but you beat him to it.

“can you teach me?,” you said, voice quiet.

jeno stills, looking at you with wide eyes like he almost couldn’t believe what you just said – “what?”

“teach me,” you sat next to him, eyes locked on his, “add a step five, teach me how to kiss, teach me how to–” you couldn’t bring yourself to say the other things, the dirtier things you wanted to learn, “–how to do other things,” you mumble.

his jaw tensed. he can’t believe what it is you’re truly asking from him. teaching you how to kiss was already absurd but teaching you how to kiss for another man? it makes him want to throw up.

“bunny –no. i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“why not?,” your head turns like a genuinely curious puppy.

“because best friends don’t–,” he faltered, “we don’t cross that line.”

“but it’s not like that,” you looked up at him, voice softening, “it’s just…practice.”

he didn’t move. didn’t blink. he can’t fathom the fact that he was actually starting to entertain the idea.

“it’s for educational purposes…just another step in the glow up,” you added, looking at him with those innocent eyes that makes him want to give you the moon, if you asked for it.

his throat worked as he swallowed, holding on to the last bit of restraint he had, “we can’t,” but it came out too quiet, too unsure, his resolve breaking with every second.

“neno,” you whispered, eyes locked on his. it’s not fair and you know it but you’ve already convinced yourself that this is necessary. that you needed to be taught.

“please…you’re the only one i feel comfortable with, just so i could learn, so i could know what to do when these things happen and i don’t make a fool of myself again,” you say, your tone low, almost pleading.

jeno’s breath hitches in his throat. he must be crazy or maybe you truly have him wrapped around your finger because now his eyes are flickering down to your lips and he can’t look away.

he realizes just how close you actually were and just like that, everything else blurs.

he leans in slowly, cautiously, searching your eyes for any flicker of hesitation.

you remain still, you don’t move, you don’t pull away. just watching him, a mixture of quiet excitement, nerves and something warmer, something softer, spreading through you like wildfire.

“just for practice,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours.

“just for practice,” you breathe back.

and that was all he needed to finally close the final inch – kissing you slowly, carefully.

it hits him instantly. fireworks. the same ones he felt when he was fourteen. the same one burned at the back of his memory. all this time he thought it was just because it was his first kiss, that feeling never once coming again. but here it is. bright, real and alive in his chest.

and this time he sees it for what it is – it’s you.

he feels you stiffen up and he pulls away softly, “don’t think about it too much, just follow my lead, okay, bunny?,” the once innocent nickname leaves you feeling hot, your heart pounding in your chest as you nod.

his hand makes his way to your cheek, warm and gentle, brushing the soft skin just beneath your ear, the small smile on his lips bringing you a sense of comfort as you as he pulls you back in. lips melting in his. you gave in, shutting the rest of the world out and only focusing on the boy in front of you.

jeno tilts his head, deepening the kiss as you follow his every move. his tongue licks your bottom lip, begging for entrance as yours part on instinct. body reacting before your mind could even process what was happening.

you kiss him back – not perfectly, not practiced but with all the pent-up wonder and want you’ve never let yourself say out loud. it was so natural with jeno. like you were always meant to be kissing him.

you can taste the faint mint of the altoids he always had, feel the heat radiating off his skin.

the makeout session grows heavier and heavier as you continue to keep up with him, learning to breathe through your nose.

you shift slightly and your knees brush, thighs pressing together and suddenly you’re aware of how close you have gotten. the lack of space between your bodies is dizzying. your fingers curl into the front of his shirt, wanting him even closer.

as if he could read your mind, jeno moves his hand from your neck to your waist, fingers splaying wide, grounding you and then in one swift motion, like you had absolutely no weight, he pulls you into his lap.

you gasp softly into the kiss and he swallows the sound, “sorry,” he murmurs against your lips, not pulling back. he was completely lost in you. in this feeling that only you could give him. he swears he could kiss you for hours and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“don’t be,” you shake your head, straddling him now. your hands find his shoulders, wrapping around his frame and threading through his hair. he kisses you harder now, less careful, lips moving in a messy rhythm, teeth clashing.

almost like it had a mind of it’s own, your hips instinctively grind down on his clothed bulge. the action sending jeno into a frenzy, a strangled groan transferring from his mouth to yours, his hold on your waist tightening.

the sound was so addicting, so intoxicating and it wraps around your head like a sweet drug.

you do it again, not entirely sure what you want to achieve but it felt good. it feels like a million butterflies flying in your stomach. there’s a growing tension in your belly that you can’t pinpoint. the feeling is new, exciting, hot.

jeno was right there with you, every boundary, every line he tried to draw was completely vanishing.

his lips trail down to your jaw, then lower, to the edge of your throat and you tilt your head back with a soft breath. your heart’s pounding. his is too. you can feel it, fast and erratic against your chest.

“y/n,” he grunts your name, like a warning – hoping you would stop him because he no longer couldn’t.

“what were the other things?,” he asks you, eyes completely blown out as he looks at you with a kind of hunger. and when all you do is grind against him once more, leaning into his touch, he’s decided he wants to see you on your knees.

“lesson number two, you’re going to suck my cock,” he whispers in your ear. the vulgar words make you feel hot, your body clenching, “do you want to learn that, bunny?,” he says, voice raspier, teasing, waiting for your go signal.

you nervously look up at him, all you could do was nod, an innocent glow in your eyes and jeno swears he could bust right there.

he reaches for one of your pillows, placing it on the floor beside your bed, “get on your knees,” he gently commands. you’re quick to follow, almost like you were in a trance. jeno tugs his sweats down to his ankles, his bulge prominent in his boxers and you can’t help but stare.

“go ahead, bunny, touch it,” he says. you almost can’t believe this is the same boy who was hiding behind your back, crying, every time the older kids would tease him.

this situation was absolutely ridiculous but that doesn’t stop your hand from wandering. following the outline of his cock as you palm him through his boxers. jeno lets out a hiss, the friction already fucking with his head.

“you can take it out,” he says, almost pleading. carefully you push his boxers off, his cock springing free, slapping against his thigh. you can’t help but gulp at his size, “i-its so big,” you say, making him laugh.

“thank you,” he says with a smirk on his lips and you playfully roll your eyes.

“what do i do?,” you look up at him, waiting for the answer. his eyes darken, that simple question snapping something inside of him. you were so innocent. so pure. and he was about to corrupt you.

he gently grabs your hand, redirecting it to your mouth, “spit,” he orders and like an obedient student, you follow, spitting in your hand.

“you can do anything, you can squeeze it,” he says, making you wrap your hand around his cock. your hand looks so tiny around his member and jeno almost just wants to skip this lesson entirely and fuck your hand dumb but he contains himself.

large hands envelop yours as he guides you on what to do, squeezing just the right amount.

“you can pump it up and down,” he says, guiding your hand to slide up and down his throbbing cock. he releases a sigh of pleasure, the warmth of your hand already making him weak.

“you can twist,” he says, twisting your hand around his cock, “you can put your mouth on it…lick it, swallow it, just keep the teeth away,” he smirks and you take a mental note of everything.

jeno releases your hand, giving you the space to experiment on his body. you’re excited, nervous but excited. you wanted to be good at this.

slowly, you continue his previous ministrations, pumping his cock up and down, squeezing and twisting your hand, just like how he showed you. jeno can’t help but let out a shaky breath, and you’re worried “does it hurt?,” you ask.

“no, bunny–feel’s really good, j-just go faster, please,” he begs.

it was sweet torture – how slow you were going, how much you were edging him on and you weren’t even aware of it. you pick up the speed, giving into his request and jeno grunts, his elbows coming in contact with your bed.

his cock looked so pretty, red and swelling, leaking.

your mouth exploringly wraps around his red tip and jeno curses under his breath, “fuuuck, oh my god.”

your confidence grows, feeling your pussy twitch at the sight of him. clenching your thighs, wanting some sort of relief. the sinful sounds he was making goes directly to your senses — the same sound you heard earlier but clearer now, more desperate, more whiny, and it knocks the breath out of you.

your hand continues to pump him, as you start sucking. you wouldn’t describe the taste of his cock to be good or sweet or like candy but it was addicting — it makes you want more. especially when every swipe of your tongue was accompanied by a breathy groan from him. it fuels you.

you take more and more of his length in until you could no longer fit him in your mouth and slowly you start bobbing up and down. his grunts and groans becoming more frequent.

jeno can’t do it anymore. this teasing was killing him. and the worst part is that you don’t even know how much you were affecting him.

his hand finds it’s way to your hair, gripping lightly, controlling the pace, increasing the speed, until you were choking, gagging, tears brimming in your eyes, “s-sorry bunny, it just f-feels so good,” he growls, thrusting his cock down your throat.

it was too much. he was too big. but you don’t care. you shut your eyes tightly, fighting the urge to gag as he continued to hit the deepest part of your throat.

this image of you on your knees, spit drooling all over your chin, tears in the corner of your eyes as you take what he gives you is absolutely heavenly.

jeno feels the coil about to snap, his breaths coming in heavy pants, thrusts getting messier and messier.

“o-open your eyes, bunny,” he orders. he wants you to see it. wants you to see him unravel. wants you to know how good you’ve been for him.

“p-play with my balls,” he instructs. your hands immediately follows through, squeezing him just where he needed it. heat travels all throughout his veins as he pulls you off, not wanting to force you to swallow his cum.

and then he falls apart – hard.

jaw going slack, eyes rolling back as his body fell into your pillows, abs clenching, cock pulsating. his cum shoots out of his tip, messily squirting everywhere, orgasm completely washing over him.

you watch him fall apart and you’re absolutely mesmerized. he looked so beautiful. so fucked out. and there’s that knot building in your stomach that you still can’t quite place.

you lick him clean, swallowing every drop that has landed on his stomach, his thighs, everywhere.

jeno’s eyes shot open as he tried to slow his breathing, slowly sitting back up, watching you clean him up like he was your last meal.

“how does it taste?,” he smirks and you look up at him through your damp lashes, “not very good,” you smile, earning a laugh from both of you. he guides you back up, as you stand in between his legs.

he lifts the naruto shirt off your body, leaving you in your light blue bra, flower patterns detailing it, “cute,” he playfully smirks and you suddenly feel embarrassed, arms protectively going across your chest.

“nu-uh don’t shy on me now, this was your idea, remember,” he says, before pushing your hands away and placing a soft kiss on the flesh on top of your breasts, looking up at you. your breath catches in your throat. that knot in your belly growing and growing making you push your legs together.

jeno notices.

“you did such a good job,” he compliments you, licking and sucking the skin of your breasts as he continues to look at you. your hands find comfort in his shoulders, stabilizing yourself.

“i did?,” you ask, “mhm, you’re such a good girl…made me feel so good,” he groans in between your breasts before traveling lower, placing a soft kiss on your stomach. his dirty talk has your mind reeling, feeling weak in the knees.

“-and good girls, must be rewarded,” he says, his fingers making their way to the hem of your shorts, squeezing the fabric between his fingers.

“how do you like being touched?,” he asks, softly, waiting, looking up at you.

“what?,” you ask, blush creeping up your cheeks.

“when you touch yourself, how do you like it?,” he asks, littering your stomach with soft kisses, his tongue lightly grazing on your skin.

“i-,” you stutter, “i-i dont,” you say, embarrassed of your lack of experience.

“what?” it was his turn to be surprised, gently sitting you on his thigh, like you just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

sure he knew you were a virgin and had zero experience with men but you had to have touched yourself before? there had to be some part of you that gave in to the desires of the night and experimented?

you groan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, “i-i’ve tried but nothing ever happens and i just feel silly with my hand down my pants,” you reason out and that very image alone makes his cock twitch again.

you were going to kill him.

“so you’ve never fingered yourself? never had an orgasm?,” he asks, completely shocked.

“i don’t even know how i’m supposed to do that,” you shrug.

“ok,” jeno says, taking it all in.

he thinks for a minute or two before he finally comes to a conclusion.

you stole his first kiss, it was only fair he stole your first orgasm. right?

“lesson number three, i’m teaching you how pleasure is supposed to feel like.”

his strong arms lift you up, making you squeal at the sudden action before he turns around, gently laying you on your bed.

jeno gets rid of his shirt, throwing his remaining piece of clothing over his head and holy fuck…your best friend is hot. his abs are on clear display, his semi-hard cock hung to the side, and you feel very hot as his gaze focuses back on you.

“when did you get those?,” you ask, fingers ghostly dancing over his six pack, trying to push away the nerves you were feeling.

he chuckles before leaning over, body trapping yours, lips finding that spot he left off of, as he continues to trail kisses on your stomach. your body can’t help but react, arching towards him. his fingers tugging on your pajama shorts.

“let’s take this off, bunny,” you comply, hips raising up, shorts sliding down your legs and you almost curse yourself at the underwear you decided to wear – a white one with cute little brown bears all over it.

jeno smirks, “really mature choice of underwear,” he teases and you scowl, “shut up, jeno,” you say, trying to hold onto the little pride you had left. he chuckles until he spots the dripping arousal your underwear has collected and something inside him shifts.

he wants to ruin you…so bad.

“look at you, bunny,” his voice drops an octave deeper, “already so wet and i haven’t even touched you,” he kisses the inside of your thigh and you feel your pussy clench, “you don’t even know what we can do with all this, huh?,” he says, gazing up at you. you watch him, as he got up, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

jeno’s hands wrapped around his cock and you tense up, “neno, are we about to have sex?,” you ask, your voice soft, timid, a hint of fear – it drives him absolutely nuts.

“no bunny, i won’t take that from you,” he says softly, “just want you to feel something, okay? just a little clit stimulation,” he explains and before you could even ask him what that means his cock was inside your underwear — collecting all your juices, tip hitting your clit over and over again as he slides up and down your wet folds.

“ohhh,” you release a sigh of pleasure, eyebrows furrowing as you try to understand this new feeling.

“feel’s good?,” he says, smirking at you.

“y-yeah,” you manage to breathe out and jeno absolutely loves the way your face was contorting.

he was playing a dangerous game with himself and this is supposed to be all about you. all he wants to do is insert his tip. just the tip. before he could lose control he stops, pulling his cock out of your underwear.

“why’d you stop?,” you ask, frustrated, already missing the lack of contact.

he chuckles, “my fingers will feel better,” he says for his own sanity.

he finally tugs off your underwear, the cool air hitting your pussy, before his thumb starts circling around your sensitive bud – rough, slow, precise circles that elicited a loud moan from you.

you slap your fingers across your mouth, surprised at the sound you made.

“don’t do that,” he orders, grabbing your fingers and latching it onto his before bringing it up over your head, a strong hand keeping it there, “want to hear you moan, bunny,” he whispers, sucking that sensitive spot just below your ear, earning another breath of moan from you.

your body arches up towards him, hips raising to his touch and he knew you were ready for more.

“gonna stick a finger in,” he warns, not giving you time to respond as his digit slides inside your hole, making you tense up, “relax,” he places a soft kiss on your lips, distracting you from the stretch, “it’s okay,” even with your dripping arousal, you were so so so fucking tight. he didn’t even know it was possible for someone to be this tight.

with a tiny bit of force, he pushes his finger in through your walls, “gonna make you feel real good, bunny,” he soothes as you slowly relax into his touch.

“gonna add another okay?,” he says and you just nod, trusting him completely. this stretch is definitely larger, and you find yourself biting down your lip. his fingers were so thick.

he slowly, gently thrusts them in and out, giving you time to adjust, “it’ll feel real good soon,” he seals with a kiss to your lips as he continues to stretch you out. fingers scissoring your walls until your pussy finally sucked him in.

the feeling of having something inside you was entirely new, strange, and you’re still trying to figure out if it felt good or not. but then jeno curls his finger and that knot in your stomach is rising faster and faster.

you want to know what happens when it finally breaks.

“ohh…neno,” you breathily moan, the pain completely morphing into pleasure. your walls completely adjusting to him, “please” you plead, not entirely sure what you were begging for.

your sweet, innocent, delicious moans of his name awakens something in him.

“im gonna eat you out now,” he tells you.

before you could protest, the idea of it making you feel embarrassed, he was already in between your legs, sucking on that spot that makes your eyes roll back.

“ohhh fuck, jeno,” you cry out, his tounge lapping up your juices, swirling around your sensitive bud, fingers still curling inside of you.

“neno, s-something’s happening,” you say in heavy pants, your breathing becoming shakier.

“p-please,” you beg, eyes wide, jaw going slack as you start panting, your hands gripping his hair, trying to ground yourself.

that coil in your stomach is hanging on by a single thread.

jeno looks up at you, he can feel you coming to a close. your walls pulsating around his fingers. he decides to finally send you over the edge, fingers rubbing fast, harsh, circles around your clit as the other continues to hit that sweet spot.

“let it happen, bunny,” he whispers, “let go…come all over my hand,” your best friend’s voice was the final push.

the thread snaps. the knot breaks.

you came crashing apart, stomach clenching, toes curling, eyes rolling to the back of your head. vision slipping into absolute darkness, feeling like you were floating.

jeno coaxes you through your orgasm, letting you ride out every wave. the sight of you unraveling drives him completely insane and it takes every nerve of self control to not ram his cock into you.

“such a good girl, bunny” he praises, littering kisses along your jaw, slow, reverent, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you. your breathing is erratic, chest rising in short, shuddery pulls as you come down from everything.

he shuffles around your room quietly, grabbing a clean towel out of your bathroom before making his way back to your bed, gently cleaning you up.

your eyes flutter open at his touch. your best friend’s smile greets you, safe and warm, “you okay?” he asks and his voice is too tender. too full of something you don’t see.

“t-hat,” you clear your throat, a weak laugh slipping out, “that was a really fun lesson,” you smile, still caught in your daze.

jeno smiles back at you but it’s hollow and empty and he hates himself for smiling at all.

reality slaps him in the face, something in him crumples as he’s reminded that all of this – all the care, all the closeness wasn’t for him. it was all just for practice. a rehearsal for someone else. and now he’s drowning in the realization that he’s just the one you trust, not the one you want.

he’s helping you be prepared for another man, still pretending like it doesn’t kill him.

he almost wants to kill every man in the world for you to finally see him.

he stands, needing to put space between you, between what just happened and everything he’s feeling. but you catch him.

“where are you going?,” you ask, when he pulls his clothes off the ground, pulling his sweats up, getting ready to leave.

“back to the frat”

“jeno, it’s late, just stay the night,” you say, casually, easy. like it’s nothing. like it’s normal. like he didn’t just get a taste of something he’ll never recover from.

and it should’ve been easy. it should’ve been nothing. it should’ve been normal. he has stayed countless nights before.

but it’s not easy. it's not nothing. and it’s definitely not normal.

“please,” you say, moving over, making room for him and patting the space he usually took up.

jeno hesitates for a second or two before doing the one thing he never does if you were any other girl — he crawls back into your bed, your sheets and pillows molding to the shape of his body.

you immediately curl into his chest like it’s instinct. filling in that space that’s always been yours. legs tangle. skin touches skin.

it feels normal but it’s not. not with so little between you. not with everything unsaid.

jeno holds you close like he always does but this time he wonders if it’s the last. the sound of his heartbeat lulls you to sleep but he stays awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling, counting the cracks in his heart, wondering how much longer he can survive being just your best friend.

his fingers thread gently through your hair, slow and careful, memorizing the feel of you beneath his touch. the familiar scent of your strawberry shampoo wraps around him, soft and warm and absolutely cruel. it smells like home, like comfort, like everything he’s always wanted.

and then, in a voice so quiet it barely disturbs the silence, he whispers into the night air, words only for the moon to hear:

“i’m in love you, bunny.”

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

the sun filters in gently, casting golden lines across your bedroom floor. you stir before he does, eyes blinking open to the soft rise and fall of his chest, quiet snores filling the air.

jeno’s arm is still wrapped around you, strong and secure, holding you like he didn’t want to let go. his face is relaxed, lips parted slightly, his usually styled hair falls softly on his features — he looks so vulnerable, peaceful.

he looks like the version of himself you remember all those years ago.

you should pull away but you don’t. instead, you study him — every line of his face, older now, more defined, but still him. you’ve seen him like this before, countless times, but something feels different now. you feel different.

and then it hits you, soft and sudden.

the feelings you had for him after you kissed him. the feelings you had for him when you wore your pink puffy dress, him in a pink matching tie as you danced the night away for prom. the feelings you had for him when he held you that night your world was falling apart.

you’ve always just needed him.

all of it crashes back into you at once — feelings you’d buried under years of pretending. years of silence. feelings you quickly tucked away the first time he talked about another girl.

the way you trained yourself to look away. the way you learned to smile through the ache. the way you accepted your fate of being his best friend.

your eyes drop to where your legs are still tangled with his, you notice the bulge in his sweats and memories of last night play in your mind. you feel his warmth everywhere and you wonder how you ever got used to not feeling this. how you ever convinced yourself that this didn’t mean something.

you knew that once he woke up. this would all be over. you would go back to being his best friend. back to the operation. back to the almosts that were always never enough.

so for a moment you let yourself have this, just for a minute longer. the closeness, the warmth, the boy who’s always been there. you snuggle into his side once more, nestling into the warmth of him, letting your eyes fall shut again.

the next time your eyes flutter open, you’re met with the cold reality you’ve always lived in. the warmth that surrounds you is gone. the space beside you is empty.

jeno is gone.

you sit up slowly, a heavy thud echoing in your chest, not of panic or confusion but just that quiet, hollow ache that settles in when you’re reminded that he will never be yours.

your eyes scans the room, no shoes by the door, his shirt nowhere to be seen. no signs he was ever there at all except for the faint scent of his cologne lingering in your sheets.

swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you wrap the blanket around yourself as if that would fill the space he left behind. you check your phone, hoping for a message but there’s nothing.

something twists in your chest — you were just another name on his list.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

forty-eight hours.

that's how long it has been since you’ve last seen your best friend. forty-eight hours of sitting in the library alone. forty-eight hours of him not showing up to your shared classes. forty-eight hours of absolutely no contact. your messages were left on delivered. no goofy tiktoks. no instagram reels. nothing. and you hated every second of it.

you miss him and you’re not entirely sure why he had suddenly fallen off the face of the earth.

giselle: hey girly! <3 go to the party at the dream frat tonight, the girls and i are all gonna be there! <333

giselle: and sungchan will be there ;)

you stare at the messages.

you had nothing better to do and you’re hoping that maybe you’ll get a glimpse of your best friend while you’re there. just to see if he was doing okay.

you slipped on a light blue mini dress that accentuates your figure, did your makeup, paired it with white heels and you were good to go.

the dream fraternity still had a pretty huge crowd considering it was a wednesday night. bodies pressed together, bass shaking the walls, the usual laughter and shouting blurring into one.

you spot jeno almost immediately, in that same corner he seemed to always be in. there’s a new girl on his arm — pretty, tall, fair-skinned. you don’t recognize her. something in your heart twists.

you knew all the girls he was seeing. every girl he flirted with, hooked up with, even the ones he ghosted. usually you were the first one he would tell it to. the first one to know everything about him.

but now? he’s shut you out. it was loud and clear. he has drawn a line between you. the same line he draws once he’s gotten all that he wanted with whoever was his current conquest.

you felt absolutely sick. the years of friendship going down the drain just like this. your heart splitting into two while he’s just standing there, laughing, flirting, completely unaffected by the wreckage he left behind.

if he doesn’t need you then you don’t need him either. if he can act normal then you can too.

you force yourself to look away, scanning the crowd until you spot giselle and the rest of the girls in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, “y/n! you’re hereee!,” she squeals, giving you a tight, buzzing hug that makes you laugh for the first time in days.

“here! take a shot!,” she hands you a drink and you down it quickly, the alcohol burning your throat in the best way possible.

the dj plays a song that gets everyone hyped up and you feel yourself letting loose, having fun, with the girls beside you, already feeling better than you did when you walked in here.

then a hand taps your shoulder and you turn to see the boy that makes your mind race into a million happy tunes, “sungchan!,” you greet him with a wide smile. he looks down at you, amused.

“hi, pretty girl,” he whispers in your ear, hands settling on your waist. his touch is warm against your skin but it doesn’t burn the way jeno’s did. doesn’t leave you branded.

“you’re not gonna run away this time are you?,” he teases, playfully, earning a giggle from you.

“sorry about that, i was just…too drunk,” you lie. the lie jeno taught you.

“are you too drunk now?,” he asks, leaning in, a twinkle in his eye.

you smirk, biting your lips, “no.”

sungchan kisses you, rough, fast and with no room for gentleness. this time, you don’t freeze. you kiss him just as hard. you let his hands roam around your body from your waist to your hips to your ass.

but kissing sungchan wasn’t like kissing jeno.

it doesn’t feel the same. doesn’t feel as good. there were no butterflies, no fireworks, no dizzy, floating feeling.

you’re still grounded. still painfully aware that you’re in the middle of drunk, sweaty strangers. he didn’t take you to a different dimension. your body was just there – moving your mouth against his like a robot programmed to do so. but your heart? your heart’s somewhere else.

and it was so annoying that at a time like this, your lips on your long-time crush, that you’ve made the realization that your heart was where it always was — in the hands of the boy in the corner.

the same boy whose lips, touch, words imprinted your heart in a way that you could never forget.

the same boy who could never see you the way you see him.

suddenly you pull away, too fast, too sharp – the feelings rushing into you all at once, suffocating, overwhelming.

sungchan stares at you like you were crazy and perhaps you are. “i-i need to use the bathroom,” you murmur, forcing a small, apologetic smile. he nods slowly, “alright, i’ll just be here.”

you quietly slip from his arms, pushing through all the bodies, barely noticing the music or the people pressing in on all sides.

and when you finally push open the bathroom door, it’s like exhaling for the first time in minutes. you grip the edge of the sink, chest heaving, trying to gather the pieces of yourself that scattered the moment you woke up alone.

you wished jeno was here.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

almost like he had a radar that went off, everytime you were near him. the second you walked through the door, jeno felt it. his gaze snapped to you instinctively but he looked away just as fast.

he’s not ready to face you. not ready to continue pretending.

the next time he saw you, you were making out with sungchan. kissing him the way he taught you. and god, he needed a drink. lots of it. the image burns in his mind, cruel and unrelenting.

he wants to chop off the guy’s hands. wants to make sure he doesn’t touch you ever again.

he wants him to know that his hands were on you first. that it was his lips he was tasting. that you were his.

but that’s not the case. so he goes and grabs another drink, another shot, another mix of poison to blur the pain.

the sound of your name snaps him back to reality.

“why do you keep waiting around for y/n anyway, there’s so many hotter girls around,” the voice is lazy, mocking, it was that wonbin guy from the riize fraternity.

jeno leans against the the wall, hidden in the shadows as he listens in on their conversation.

“well, one she’s hot,” sungchan snickers and jeno’s jaw tenses.

“and two, rumor is she’s still a virgin,” there’s a wicked amusement in his tone, “and we all know virgins are the hottest in the room.”

laughter erupts around them, sharp, cruel, echoing off the walls and that was all it took.

jeno doesn’t think. doesn’t hesitate.

in one quick second, he marched over, fist landing right on the sungchan’s jaw, the crack loud and satisfying, sending the soccer player tumbling backwards.

“what the hell?!,” sungchan yells, rubbing at his jaw before his expression twists in rage. in the next breath, he lunges. his fist catching jeno clean across the cheek.

jeno barely flinches. the soccer player was stronger than he thought, he’d give him that. but nothing is getting past his rage, adrenaline coursing through him.

he’s not done. not even close.

he charges forward, ramming sungchan into the wall with a force that rattles the shelves beside them, “don’t ever fucking touch her again,” he growls, voice low and deadly.

sungchan pushes back, shoving him hard, “she’s not yours,” and his words hits deeper than any punch could. because it was true. you weren’t his. and he’s almost sure you would kill him for this but he doesn’t care.

jeno throws another fist, connecting with sungchan’s ribs, making him grunt and double over for a second before retaliating with a wild swing.

more people gather now, phones out, flashes going off, chants of “fight, fight, fight,” increasing all around them.

sungchan, lunges, tackling jeno to the ground as they roll, fists flying, shouts echoing.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

the loud commotion coming from outside the bathroom door forces you to pick up the pieces.

shouts. thuds. chaos.

you quickly gather yourself, pulling open the door and following the swarm of bodies funneling toward the noise like a moth drawn to a light.

and then you see him — you know that figure immediately, even with his back towards you.

your best friend was on top of someone, fists repetitively slamming down. your heart lurches, legs moving before your mind can catch up.

they roll and you see sungchan’s face bruised and battered.

what the fuck?

around them, the crowd erupts in shouts and arguments, phones raised like this was some kind of show.

the dream boys were trying to get a hold of the situation but they too just ended up shouting and arguing with the riize fraternity, voices overlapping in a haze of testosterone and ego.

“your guy started it first!”

“you’re on our turf!”

the room was absolute chaos and no one’s doing a damn thing. you finally push through the roaring crowd, running over to them, until you’re at the center of the storm.

“stop!,” you shout, but your pleas are swallowed by the noise as they continue to take jabs at each other.

with all your strength, you yank on sungchan’s shirt, sending him stumbling off jeno.

you finally take a good look at your best friend, he had a nasty cut forming on the side of his forehead, face flushed and bruised.

“y/n,” he breathes your name like he’s shocked you’re here.

he stumbles to his feet, eyes darting behind you “get out of here,” he says urgently.

you whirl around only to see that sungchan wasn’t done. he was charging at your best friend again.

without thinking, you step in – fist connecting with his throat – sharp, clean, brutal. completely flying him backwards as he gasped for air.

the crowd cheers.

of course you knew how to punch, you grew up with three men three times your size.

“okay, that's ENOUGH!” mark’s voice rips through the room like a whip – loud and absolutely furious. the crowd freezes, the chaos dies down. he grabs sungchan by the arm and shoves him toward his crew.

“get the fuck out of here,” he commands the room, controlling the crowd. bodies scattering like cockroaches under a light.

you turn to jeno, chest heaving, fury radiating off you, “what the fuck was that?”

jeno flinches at your tone like it was more painful than any of the punches he had just taken. you were never mad at each other. not like this.

when he doesn’t answer, you turn around, jaw tight, ready to leave.

“wait–,” jeno jolts back to reality.

you pause, barely looking over your shoulder, “what?!,” your anger is palpable, brows furrowed, chest still rising and falling too fast.

he softens, “your hand is bleeding,” he says gently. you glance down at your knuckles, raw and stained red, the adrenaline fading just enough for the sting to set in.

“c’mon,” he grabs your uninjured hand carefully and without another word, he leads you through the dispersing crowd, up the stairs and into the safety of his room.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

you stand in jeno’s bathroom, the fluorescent light above casting a soft glow on both of you. he dabs the small, barely any, blood that had stained your knuckles, applying ointment on the tiny wounds.

“you’re being dramatic, there’s barely anything there,” you mutter, watching how focused he is.

“just don’t want it to get infected,” he says quietly, his brows still drawn together.

then with a soft chuckle, “i can’t believe you punched him,” he smiles his trademark smile and for a second, you forget you were currently angry at him.

“no one hurts my neno and gets away with it,” you tease, the words light on your tongue, but they steal the air from jeno’s lungs. you were always protecting him.

your eyes meet his and the moment stretches. but then you remember yourself, remember why your chest is tight and your heart is sore. so you press your lips into a thin line, forcing away the smile that appeared.

a quiet silence hangs in the air, heavy, almost awkward, until jeno’s voice breaks it, “done,” he says, turning to leave the bathroom and into his bedroom.

before he could take another step, your hand captures his wrist.

“your face is bleeding,” you point out.

you guide him to sit on the edge of the tub, slotting yourself between his legs. no matter how mad you guys are at each other, this is what you do. you take care of each other. your fingers are careful, precise, as you press a cotton pad soaked in alcohol to the gash on his temple.

a particular swipe on the cut stings him, a hiss slipping past his lips as his hands instinctively finds the back of your thighs, gripping, like he’s grounding himself through you. the small contact is enough to bring back that familiar knot tightening in your stomach.

“stop being a baby,” you say, dabbing again, “this is your fault.”

he smirks faintly, “how are you so sure i started the fight?”

“please,” you scoff, “in what world would sungchan go up to you and punch you? especially since he’s in your territory,” you point out, quite familiar with the whole fraternity rules.

he sighs in defeat.

“what happened anyway?,” you ask cautiously, not sure if you were ready for the answer.

“nothing,” he says, a little too quickly.

you stop, eyes narrowing, “no secrets between us remember?,” you remind him.

right, that silly rule you made when you were eight years old and still held on to to do this day.

jeno sighs, his shoulder falling, “he said something about you. i didn’t like it,” he confesses and you still.

“what did he say about me?,” you ask, curious.

“that he only wanted you because you were a virgin,” he mutters, jaw clenching again like it’s the first time he’s hearing it. the urge to punch sungchan in the face coming back in seconds.

it was supposed to hurt. it was supposed to leave you angry, embarrassed, hollow — to hear those words coming from the boy you’ve had a crush on since freshman year. but that feeling of heartache never came. instead, confusion clouds your chest.

why did he care? that wasn’t supposed to be his battle.

“hmm,” you hum thoughtfully, tone laced with challenge “and what if i was okay with that?”

his hands on your legs twitch, just slightly

“you shouldn’t be,” he snaps, “you shouldn’t lose it to a guy like him.”

and just like that, the anger ignites. your hands finish cleaning him up in cold, calculated movements. you removed yourself from his space, placing the first aid kit back in the drawer with a little too much force, organizing everything just to keep from exploding because who the hell was he to decide who you should have sex with?

“oh? and who should i lose it to?,” you seethe.

“a guy like you?,” there’s a sort of anger in your voice that jeno can’t quite read.

“aren’t you the same?,” you throw at him, voice trembling with fury.

jeno furrows his brows at your insinuation, like he’s been slapped, “y/n–,”

“you left, jeno,” your voice is quiet, but it slices through the space between you like a blade. you give him one last look before storming out of the bathroom. and jeno finally understands it all.

“wait, bunny–”

you don’t stop. not even as you hear his footsteps close behind you, not even as your chest rises with every breath that feels too heavy to hold.

you make it into his bedroom but before you can reach for the door, his hands close around your wrist, gentle but firm and in the next second he spins you around and crashes his lips onto yours.

the fire in your chest blazes and still, you kiss him back.

the kiss melts into something deeper, hungrier. your hands grip his shirt as his thumb brushes your jaw. he pulls away just enough to press his forehead against yours, both of you breathless, hearts racing.

“that’s why i left,” he murmurs, voice barely a whisper between your shared air.

your brows draw together, confusion clouding your gaze, “what does that even mean?”

“can’t you feel it,” he says, guiding your hand to his chest, letting you feel the frantic rhythm beneath your palm, “the way my heart is beating, it only ever races like this because of you,” he confesses.

you swallow hard, barely finding your voice, “but you left,” you remind him, “why did you leave?”

his eyes flicker with something raw, something that’s been buried for too long, “because i couldn’t pretend anymore,” he says, voice shaking with the weight of it, “i couldn't go another day being your best friend–not when im so fucking in love with you that it hurts.”

his confession leaves you stunned and you can’t believe how blind you’ve both been. all these years of mutual pining, years of missed moments, of stolen glances and silent aching all leading up to this moment.

a tearful laugh escapes you, half breathless, half broken, “you’re a fucking idiot,” you whisper, voice shaking with the force of everything you feel, a mixture of love, frustration and the tenderness of finally hearing the truth.

with urgency, a quiet desperation, you pull him back in, leaning up to kiss him.

the kiss is slow but intense, full of everything you’ve both kept hidden, everything you’ve both wanted for so long.

jeno doesn't need to hear you say it. he feels it in the way your lips meet his, the way you kiss him like your very existence depends on it. he knows now that you’ve been waiting for this – waiting for each other, for the truth that was always there.

you deepen the kiss and jeno meets you with equal fervor, tongues moving with an ease that feels natural, as if it’s a rhythm you’ve both known forever.

you guide him towards you, steps slow but deliberate, until the back of your knees hits the edge of his bed, falling into the softness of his sheets, pulling him down with you, lips never once breaking from his.

pushing yourself up until your head hit his pillows. jeno follows your lips like you were magnets drawn together. he couldn’t get enough.

you pull on the hem of his shirt. jeno quickly tugs it off over his head, tossing it to the side, diving right back into you. the kiss is hungry, steamy, full of tongue, leaving you no room to breathe.

your fingers dance through his skin, feeling every muscle. jeno guides you to sit up, quickly finding the zipper in the back of the dress, sliding it off your body, leaving you in a lacy blue underwear that makes his cock twitch.

the dress didn’t warrant a bra, your breasts immediately exposed to the cool air, making jeno groan in satisfaction, his large hand latches on to your tit, loving the way it fits perfectly in his hand.

“you’re so beautiful, bunny,” he praises before his tongue circles against your sensitive nipple. he looks up, not wanting to miss your reaction. light, breathy moans spill from your lips, back arching at his touch, feeling every warmth he left behind.

he moved all throughout your body, taking his time, memorizing every detail, worshipping you with every brush of his lips.

his hand slip under your panties, wet and soaking for him. the familiar circles of his fingers on your clit immediately sends a wave of pleasure through you. you were already shaking, that fire inside you growing.

that delicious stretch of your pussy as he stuck two digits in makes your eyes roll back, overwhelming in the best way possible, a broken moan spilling from your lips. your hips move on their own, grinding on his hand, chasing that friction you can’t get enough of.

jeno has already memorized you. curling his fingers just right, dragging them against that spot that made your thoughts scatter, heat spreading through you so quickly.

“jeno—” his name left you as a gasp, pleasure building deep inside you. this time you knew what it was, “i-m coming,” you moan.

“i got you bunny, let me hear you” he whispered, his pace quickening, matching the frantic way your body moved with his touch, until you were spilling into his hand.

he coaxes you through it, littering soft kisses on your ear, along your jaw, down to your neck — making sure to leave a mark.

making sure everyone knew that you were his.

your eyes flutter open. there was still that growing fire inside you, burning hotter, higher. you needed more.

when you reach down for his belt, fingers clumsily fumbling at the buckle, urgency pushing you faster than your hands could manage, jeno snaps out of the trance he’s in, making his way back to your eyes.

“are you sure?,” he gasped, the words rushed, like he was forcing them out before he lost all sense of reason.

you nodded so fast, so desperate, “jeno, please.”

“we don’t have to do this, bunny, we can take it slow…i don’t want to rush you,” he panted, voice fraying at the edges. the thought of stopping absolutely wrecks him but you are more important than the desire spreading through him.

you refuse to wait any longer, you’ve already waited years. your whole body aches with the need you’d kept buried for so long. the need only he could fulfill.

“neno,” you whispered, voice trembling with need, “i want this…i need you.”

his resolve shattered at the sound of your plea.

“okay,” he breathed, kissing you gently before finally discarding his pants, boxers following suit, leaving him completely bare.

slowly, he removed your panties, the last remaining cloth between you. he reaches over his nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom and wrapping it on his hard cock, a grunt spilling from his lips.

“still sure?,” he searches your eyes for any signs of hesitation because if there was, even the tiniest one, he would stop immediately. no questions asked. no regret. no matter how badly he didn’t want to.

“so sure neno, it’s always been you,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, letting him know that every single piece of you wanted him — heart, body and soul.

that was his final confirmation.

he kissed you once, slow and tender, before his hands roamed, leaving goosebumps that made you ache even more, “i’ll go slow,” he promised, voice thick with emotion “tell me if you need to stop, okay? at any point bunny, i’ll stop.”

you nodded, your heart hammering against your ribs so loudly you were sure he could hear it. fear and want and overwhelming love swirling in your chest.

finally, he aligned his cock against your hole, hand shaking slightly as he guided himself into you.

the stretch burns — it was nothing like his fingers, his cock was harder, thicker, fuller. and you’re not entirely sure if he could fit.

instinctively you tensed, eyes shutting close at the pain, a whiny hiss slipping from your lips.

jeno immediately froze, his thumb stroking soothing circles against your hip, “you’re doing so good, bunny,” he praises, forehead resting against yours, “breathe for me okay? we can take all the time you need,” he was so soft, so caring, so gentle.

your fingers tighten on his shoulder, just for a second, letting him know that you understood.

jeno fought to stay still, fought to put you first. but god, it hurts. you felt so good around him. so tight. so warm. he needed to move.

you forced yourself to relax, letting out a shaky breath and he pressed forward again, slower this time, giving you time to adjust to another inch of him.

“almost there, bunny, just a couple more,” he says softly, treating you like glass. you were so fragile. so pretty. your eyebrows furrowing in pain, lips parted slightly.

it hurt but it was jeno, and that made it bearable. your tight walls continued to adjust around him, molding to the size of his large cock.

with one final, gentle push, he was fully seated inside you, grunts spilling from his lips onto yours.

he stayed there, not moving, just breathing with you. trying to control his own desires. one hand cradles your cheek, carefully pushing away the hair that has stuck to your skin, “you’re amazing,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, “taking all of me,” he continues praising, “so perfect, bunny.”

a few tears slid from your eyes. from the sting, from the love, from everything. jeno kissed them away with such tenderness.

“i love you,” you manage to whisper, his lips on yours in an instant, savoring it. the words makes jeno shift inside you.

that small burst of friction is enough to ignite the pleasure. it still hurt but you needed to feel it, to feel more.

and when you finally whispered, “move, please,” jeno felt like the air was rushing back in his lungs.

only then did he start rocking into you — careful, controlled, every movement meant to bring you closer to pleasure.

he angles his cock perfectly, each thrust sending a a wave of butterflies in your stomach. the pain slowly disappeared as your walls sucked him in, until you were only left with pleasure so mind numbing, you can no longer think about anything but the way the tip of his cock kept on kissing that spot that made you see stars. he was perfect.

“fuckkk bunny, you take me so well, pussy was made for me,” jeno grunts hopelessly. he was coming undone embarrassingly fast. for someone who was supposed to be an expert, you had him trembling, shaking.

it was different with you — he loves you.

every emotion hits him to the fullest. he feels you all around him. his rhythm starting to stutter, abs starting to clench as he tried to hold on to the remaining sanity he had left.

“you’re making a mess out of me,” he grunts, “please come on my cock,” he begs, whines, pleading for permission. his fingers finding your sensitive bud, rubbing slow but harsh circles.

you’ve never felt fuller. never felt more satisfied. that heat spreading down to your toes, your head rolling back in complete bliss as the high came crashing over you in breathy, broken moans of only his name — pussy immediately tightening around him, sending him to his own release as he spilled into the condom.

through it all, jeno whispered against your skin, grunts of i love you’s and praises hitting your ears in the most melodic way.

when you both calmed down, he pulled you into his arms, head resting on the heart that’s always been yours.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

you woke up to jeno’s brown eyes already staring at you, his fingers gently threading through your hair.

“good morning,” he murmured, eye smile on display and in an instant the memories of last night came rushing back, vivid and electric.

“good morning” you whispered back, both of you grinning like lovesick fools.

“how are you feeling?” he asks softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

you smile at him, “i feel amazing,” you say, leaning up to kiss him.

his hand on your waist is hard to ignore. as well as the bulge that’s currently hitting your inner thigh.

“and you’re feeling excited, aren’t you?,” you pull back, slightly teasing him.

“shut up,” he smiles, cheeks flushing, “it’s not my fault i woke up next to my very hot girlfriend”

your eyes widen slightly, “girlfriend, huh?”

“mhm, is that okay with you, bunny?”

“hmm,” you pretend to think about it but the smile tugging on your lips betrays you, “sounds perfect.”

jeno pulled you in for another kiss, his smile pressed against yours. before he could deepen it, you pushed him down to his bed sheets, hovering over him with a gleam in your eyes.

“what are you doing?,” he rasped, the bold movement catching him off guard, making his breath shift, excitement coursing through his veins.

“girlfriend duties,” you smirk.

you littered kisses down his body until you were head to head with his cock, already flushed, thick and throbbing for you.

without hesitation, you licked a slow stripe up his length, tasting him, humming in satisfaction before wrapping your lips around his tip and taking in as much of his length as you could.

jeno watched you, his hands behind his head, a proud smirk on his face. and when you look up to make eye contact with him, his smirk fades into a helpless groan.

“fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” his hand instantly threading into your hair, bunching it up and pushing it out of your face. he wanted to see you. wanted to see your mouth around him.

you hollowed your cheeks and started to move, bobbing your head at that speed you knew he liked.

what can you say? you’re a quick learner.

his hips twitched, barely holding back from fucking your mouth.

every wet, obscene sound filled the room, and you loved the way he was falling apart for you, chest heaving, hands gripping you tighter. his grunts make you clench around nothing.

jeno came in minutes, gasping for your name as he struggled to breathe. his hot release shoots down your throat. this time, you swallowed every single drop, milking him dry, only pulling off when he whimpered from overstimulation, pushing your hand away.

“how the hell are you already so good at that?,” he groans, the aftershocks of his orgasm still hitting him.

“i have a really good teacher,” you chuckle, making your way back to him, kissing him, making him taste his own juices as your tongues battled for dominance.

jeno flips you over, roughly, quickly, the sudden shift making you squeal in laughter, as he settles in between your legs.

“your turn,” he says, voice low and dangerous.

his mouth immediately laps around you, licking, sucking, spitting — filthy and hungry. it was so messy, so wet, so crude, and yet it felt so so good. your head is spinning, heart racing, thighs trembling

you’re right there, at the edge, ready to fall — and then the door swings wide open. you shriek, arms crossing, immediately covering your chest just as jeno scrambles to hover over you, covering every inch of you with his large frame.

“jeno what do you want for break—?” jaemin barges in, stepping into the room like he hasn’t just shattered the moment.

“oh,” jaemin smirks, this situation extremely familiar, “i see,” he teases, tone dripping with fake innocence.

jeno’s entire body stiffens, his butt literally clenching as he growls, “jaemin, get the fuck out.”

he doesn't spare the boy a glance, focused only on making sure he doesn’t see any part of your body.

jaemin bursts out laughing, “alright alright, enjoy your breakfast,” he says before locking the door behind him and leaving the two of you alone.

the second he’s gone, jeno exhales a heavy breath of relief. you both lie there, faces burning red.

“i’m gonna kill him,” he mutters before the two of you erupted in giggles, your shared laughter harmonizing in the air.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

a week of being jeno’s girlfriend could only be described as pure bliss. the perfect balance of best friends and lovers. you were the power couple, always walking into the room like you owned it.

not much has changed between you two, you still tell him to shut up, he’s still dramatic, still the best of friends, except this time there’s a million shared kisses, lingering touches, whispered confessions and sex (lots of sex).

he’s unlocked something in you. something wild, primal, greedy — desire wrapping it’s hands around you. you can’t get enough of him. you craved him again and again and again.

and jeno was just undone, just as hopelessly in love. he thought his sex drive was bad before, it’s even worse now. every little thing you did triggered him — a smile, a glance, a soft laugh, it all sent him spiraling, desperate to have you. his need for you was overwhelming, a fire he had no intention of putting out.

he taught you how to touch yourself, you watched him masturbate. he kissed you in places you never knew were sensitive, made love to you in so many different positions, locations, each one leaving you breathless and trembling in his arms — making up for all the lost time.

today, when jeno walked into the library, he noticed your figure missing from your usual shared table. you were supposed to be here by now, you were always here at this hour.

his eyes quickly scan the space, feet walking around, searching every corner, every dusty nook, trying to find a glimpse of you. he finally spots you at the corner, tucked away in the back with the old shelves filled with forgotten books.

“what are you doing all the way over here?,” he asks, snapping your attention towards him, as he placed a soft kiss on your temple.

“just wanted a quieter place to read,” you feign innocence, picking up your book and pretending to be interested once more. jeno doesn’t question it, just pulls out the chair beside you and sits, his thigh pressed hard against yours. he pulls out his assignments, busying himself.

“neno,” you call out to him, a playful flicker in your eyes as you put your book down, “want to know a fun fact?,” you say.

he smiles at you, still unaware of what you had brewing in your mind, “sure, bunny.”

you lean in close, your chest brushing against his arm, “i’m not wearing any panties,” you whisper, only for his ear to hear.

he gulps, eyes quickly scanning the room, afraid someone was close enough to hear that. when he realizes you two were definitely alone, he finally takes in the fact that you were wearing a cute pink skirt, “fuck, are you serious?,” he whispers.

you shrug, “why don’t you find out?,” picking up your book, a playful grin on your lips, you flipped through the pages pretending to be interested, excitement bubbling inside you.

you didn’t have to tell him twice.

you flinched slightly when his cold fingertips first made contact with your thigh, slowly slipping underneath your skirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps. you barely had time to react before his fingers slipped between your thighs, urging them apart.

and when he finds you bare and soaked for him, jeno can’t help but let out a groan, his cock twitching in his pants.

you just started a dangerous game and he was eager to play. eager to ruin you in this public space. excited to watch you try and hide your moans.

“so fucking warm,” he muttered, fingers collecting your juices as he slowly swiped up and down your folds, making you feel every graze of his finger.

you grabbed the edges of the book, trying to stay calm, trying to act normal even as jeno slowly, deeply slid a finger inside you.

you choke on a silent gasp, disguising it with a fake cough and jeno finds it absolutely amusing. he has no plans of taking it easy on you, especially since this was your brilliant idea.

he moved lazily at first, curling his finger inside you, feeling every clench, every desperate little twitch of your body. watching you bite your lip as you tried to contain the moans that we’re begging to be released.

“good girl,” he murmured, kissing you on the temple.

his free hand picks up his pencil, as he continued to work on his assignment, like you weren’t falling apart under the table, “just stay quiet for me, yeah?,” he smirks.

you don’t even manage a response. afraid that once you open your mouth, a loud moan of his name would slip out.

he starts writing in his notebook, fingers still moving inside you, edging you on with every second. you shifted in your seat, hips tilting up without meaning to, chasing the rhythm he set. needing him to go faster — to finally take you there.

jeno knew exactly what you needed, even without voicing it. he adds a second finger, stretching you wider, making your eyes flutter shut, your grip on your book tightening, holding onto it as if it was your lifeline.

your boyfriend grinned cockily as he fucked his fingers into you.

you thought you were safe, hidden enough until you heard distant footsteps of someone wandering nearby.

your eyes immediately snap to jeno, silently begging him to stop as you tried to shut your legs close.

but his hand was too strong, keeping you open for his fingers, “you wanted this, you’re gonna take it,” he mumbles into your hair. he didn’t stop. in fact, his thumb brushed against your clit, harsher, faster.

you buried your head in your book, biting your lip so hard it hurt, but still a tiny strangled whimpered escaped.

the footsteps paused, just for a second.

you held your breath, heat traveling up to your head, jeno still working under your skirt. the danger of being caught made it even hotter. your pulse pounding loud in your ears, body burning under his touch. and then the footsteps continued, fading into silence again.

jeno chuckles under his breath, fingers thrusting deeper, faster, his thumb never leaving your clit.

“almost got caught, bunny,” he teased, voice low and thick with lust, “bet you’d love that, huh?”

the thought made you tighten incredibly around his fingers, orgasm crashing over you like a wave you couldn’t stop, body jerking slightly in the chair as you hunched over the table, hiding your moans in your arms, desperately trying to stay as quiet as possible.

jeno’s fingers continued to work you through it until you were limp against the table, panting softly.

he pulled his fingers out slowly, letting you feel every second of it. you already felt so empty without him. he brings his fingers up to his lips, sucking them clean with a soft, sinful groan.

you sit up, watching him, wrecked and cheeks flushed, your heart pounding so hard it was all you could hear, a small satisfied grin on your lips.

jeno leans in, kissing you gently. you taste yourself on his lips, then he smirks, that devilish smirk, whispering against your ear, “next time…you’re sitting in my lap.”

𓏲 the end.

—

18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content

bonus: this is so lee jeno x bunny coded -> click here

—

an: posted this earlier than i planned because if i even spend one more day with this, i’m never gonna stop writing but ahhh i can’t believe my time with this couple is over, i love them so bad!!! i hope you loved them too!

marks story is up next! since he did technically win the poll — pls give me nickname suggestions for mark’s girl! i’m currently thinking kitty but im not 100% sold >.< — she’s going to be a little more feisty than the others! slide in my ask for suggestions or simply comment here! pls!

likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated ⏦ﾟ♡︎

tagging: @bluedbliss [if you would like to be tagged in future stories of this series, please let me know <3]

[millersfinest]

untethered | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 7.4k

series: chapter one (you’re here!), chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf (kind of), the millers, r is a writer, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, some physical violence, adopted kid trauma (shoutout to all the adopted kids!!), hella angst, repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut.

note: i have too much confidence writing for ellie. but here’s another series im starting because i realized the plot is too much for a single work on here, hence the 7 thousand words ijbol. hope you guys enjoyyy.

It was quieter upstate. Breathable and airy—you missed it more than anything. As much as you loved living in Manhattan, there was nothing like the countryside. Waking up to the sound of birds chirping and roosters crowing. Hearing the excited neighing from the horses you birthed and took care of. It was refreshing to be home again.

And, of course, you missed your parents.

They adopted you as a troubled child, and you’ve considered yourself lucky ever since. Babies and younger children were often the ones to be pulled from inconsistent foster homes, but they chose you. A pierced, attitude-ridden, thirteen-year-old who liked smoking cigarettes because they made you look cooler than you felt. And it helped you cope with the lasting effects of neglectful parents.

That trauma didn’t just disappear once Tommy and Maria entered your life. It was something that grew from nothing, and they were adamant in making your transition as comfortable as possible. You never experienced anything like it before them. Their strictness and structure did the opposite of what most would think. You went from sneaking out and smoking cigarettes to staying up late studying and finishing your favorite novels—still smoking cigarettes, though, but out your window. It was hard habit to break.

Once you realized that they could be trusted and had your best interest at heart, you gave them the right to parent you. Sure, it wasn’t easy. The three of you argued many, many times—but you respected them more than you have anyone else. Really, just for tolerating you.

The Miller’s were always very family oriented and social. Sunday nights always managed to be a grand event—Tommy grilling in the acred backyard, Maria handling the food items that could be cooked inside, and you diligently decorating and setting the table. Football Sundays were always the worst, but they were great memories to think about. That was the first time you met, basically, the love of your life at the time. Ellie Williams.

It was 1995 when you had completely fallen in love with her—only knowing her for around three years. Joel Miller wasn’t really her father, or adoptive father, he was just somebody who took care of her. He owned a guitar shop that sold, obviously, guitars and other instruments alike; as well as holding lessons for those wanted to learn how to play.

The story goes: Joel was working the register on a very slow day when Ellie showed up. There was a shiner on her eye, but she insisted that she was fine—asking for lessons with crumbled cash and dirty coins. She couldn’t afford the lessons on her own, so he gave her a job and proceeded with teaching her how to play.

She grew up similar to you; hidden under the confines of foster care. The only difference was, she was never adopted. At least not until the age of seventeen, when she’d spent so much time with Joel that she had a decorated bedroom in his house. They both had commitment issues, but after Tommy convinced him to do the paperwork… He did. Surprising her on her seventeenth birthday. However, the outcome didn’t really go to plan. Not how anyone would have expected it.

It was 1997 when she completely broke your heart… Not to be cheesy or anything.

Her seventeenth birthday was hosted at your house, on the farm. You knew her the most out of everyone, so you made it your mission to make this the best birthday ever. Decorating had become a hobby of yours after so many Sunday dinners—you spent all day stringing up lights and colorful streamers. Maria helping you out with a homemade cake that said: Happy Birthday Els! You were too anxious to write the words yourself, so you let her do it instead. You were even sure to invite the friends you shared; demanding they each brought presents to show how much they cared about her.

Joel had showed up before she did; just in time so they could all hide and jump out with big smiles on your faces when Ellie arrived. You would always remember the feeling of hearing the rumbling of her truck coming to a stop. And the shy smile on her face when everyone jumped out from behind furniture—blowing birthday kazoo’s. It was picturesque!

Dina had trotted over to her, snapping a blue paper cone birthday hat over her head. While you walked over with her birthday cake in your hands, brightened with seventeen candles. “Happy seventeenth, Ellie.” You had spoken, warmly. A bashful grin spreading onto your lips. She looked at you with such awe in that moment. Blowing out her candles and kissing your cheek, muttering a blushing ‘I fuckin’ love you’.

You knew about her surprise adoption papers before the party had started, excitement running through your veins when Joel meandered toward her—handing her an envelope of hope. Ellie took it, eyeing him, skeptically. “Open it!” You urged—that was your mistake.

Chortling, she broke open the envelope, not caring if it tore. When she pulled out the certificate, reading the words on the page, her entire face dropped. “Adoption papers?” Her eyes squinted in disgust, glaring at Joel. The smile fell from your face, lips parting in slight shock. Her olive eyes glanced around the room, seeing the fallen expressions clouding everyone’s features. Landing on your fallen face, briefly—a look exclaiming, ‘how could you’. Freckled cheeks heating up in embarrassment and… Anger. “Joel, what the fuck?” She blinked at him, shoving the papers into his chest, then storming out of the house. Hands ripping the hat from the top of head, throwing it to the ground. The screen door creaking obnoxiously as she exited. It all happened so fast.

He quickly followed her out, calling for her, desperately.

Awkwardly, you turned to the frozen people around you. “Anybody want cake? It’s german c— chocolate.” You stammered, trying to keep your composure. Looking to Maria and Tommy for some sort of consolation, you frowned, placing the cake on the counter before fleeing to the bathroom.

You clenched at the roots of your hair, pacing around the bathroom. You could hear remnants of a solo screaming match from outside the bathroom window, causing you to grit your teeth. The papers were supposed to be a good thing! Ellie had always been a hothead—easily agitated like a stray kitten is distress. There were even moments where the two of you went at it. Until one of you caved, begging for affection as an apology. Your nerves burned at the idea of her not liking the surprise—was that selfish?

Instead of remaining in the bathroom, you swung open the door with your eyes fixed on the front door. Hands clenched at your sides, you walked through the kitchen, where Tommy tried to liven up the mood by handing out pieces of cake.

He tried calling your name, but you brushed him off, pushing open the screen door with an attitude that could be felt with every step you took. The brisk autumn air hit your exposed skin, the long-sleeve striped shirt not doing much to keep you warm.

Striding around the side of the house, you seen Joel and Ellie having a stern conversation. But by the time your eyes landed on them, they were in a beat of silence. Joel shaking his head with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Ellie had her arms stubbornly crossed, frowning. When her eyes found yours, he turned around to leave. “She’s all yours…” He solemnly sighed, walking back into the house. The adoption papers crumbled up in his hands.

Biting your bottom lip, you approached her with your arms crossed for warmth. “What happened, Ellie?” Your voice dragged, tiredly. There was something always wrong with her. “We just wanted to do something nice for you… Why’d you have to go and ruin it—?”

“Oh, I’m the one who ruined it?” She scoffed, a sneer resting on her lips. “I’m not the one who brought the fucking adoption papers!” Ellie exclaimed, gesturing broadly with her hands. When she was up in arms, she always gesticulated more. “Did you have anything to do with this? Because if you did—“

You interrupted her with scrutinizing glare. “So, what if I did? I thought this would make you happy, Ellie… Don’t you understand?”

“You had me open that in front of everyone knowing what was inside— and you thought that’d make me happy?” Her lips arched in disgust. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all.” Her words were venomous, lips twitching in anger.

There was nobody who understood you more than Ellie, and vice versa. You just got each other because you came from similar backgrounds—that was your glue. You don’t know me at all. That was new.

With your eyes growing warm with tears, your tongue rolled in your mouth. “I spent all day setting this up… For you. Because I love you, Ellie. I don’t know you— that’s bullshit if I ever heard it.” Your voice cracked, but you refused to let a tear run down your cheek. This was no time for tears—if she could get angry, so could you.

“I’ve known you long enough to have some semblance of understanding on why you’re upset, right now— that’s for damn sure.” You paused, averting your eyes to concentrate on keeping your rising emotions at bay. She watched you, cheeks still red with anger. “I’m gonna give you ten minutes— ten, Ellie! If you don’t get your ass back in there in next ten fucking minutes…” You lick your lips, shaking your head. “We’re over. Done!”

Giving a final glare, you turned to head back inside. “I can’t keep dealing with this shit.” You mutter, under your breath.

“So that’s what it is… Dealing with me?” Ellie voiced, a sliver of disappointment slipping in her moment of anger.

Wiping your cheeks, you peered over your shoulder. “What?”

“You got this perfect little life… Huh?” She began, approaching you intimidatingly. “The loving parents, the farmhouse— you became the perfect daughter for them… Gets the grades, does everything she can to appease them. This fuckin’ fantasy world that you chose to live in all because you wanted someone to love you… Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Ellie…” You warned.

“Well, newsflash, little-miss-perfect— not everybody wants that! Not everybody wants to play pretend for the rest of their fucking life just to be—“

It happened before you could stop it, fists clenching at your sides as she bad mouthed you till oblivion. Your soft spot—and she knew all about that. Both of you grew up as kids who got into fights and disputes more times than anyone could count; you just decided to clean up your act. However, that troubled twelve to thirteen-year-old still resided inside of you. And, in that moment, she wasn’t your doting girlfriend—she was someone punching down on you.

Your knuckles collided with the side of her face, knocking into her cheek bone. Features scowling as if she were a stranger. Ellie stumbled, holding onto her face with surprised eyes. For a second the version of her you loved came through, but she quickly recovered. Her lips curling at the ends, taunting you. “I knew you still had it in you… You’re no better than me.”

There it was.

Not only was it the straw that broke the camels back—it was the truth. The ultimate truth. Behind all of your petty little arguments. Behind all her wild bursts of anger. She was jealous of you. Grunting behind your teeth, you charged at her. Taking the collar of her jacket as her back hit the gravelly ground. Straddling her, you didn’t hear the rushing feet hitting the porch. You could feel her hands settling loosely on your calves, only angering you more. “I did the fucking work— nobody else but me!” Tears poured down your cheeks. “I am better than you. Because I fucking try—“

Arms pulled you off her body, wrapping around your abdomen. It was Tommy, questioning you in your ear, but you weren’t listening. “Everything went to shit because of you! Remember that!” Dina and Jesse rushed to her side, but she only sat up watching you get pulled back inside. They glared at your forced retreat—they were always more friends with her than they were with you.

Tommy released you, with a disappointed sigh. Maria walking inside, shutting the door behind her, frowning. You heaved, looking at all the decorations that mocked you. Sparkling and shining against the dim lights in the room. The barely eaten cake sat on the counter in the kitchen making fun of you—it was all too much.

“What the hell has gotten into you, y/n?!” Maria pointedly, asked. Not really wanting a response.

“What’s gotten into me?! What’s gotten into her—!” You pointed to the door as if she replaced it.

The blond man leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, bending at his hips. “Well, I don’t think it matters what’s gotten into her if you put your hands on her, Bug.” Tommy spoke, evenly. He was always the calmer of the two. “Did you… Did you put your hands on her?”

Maria stood with her hands on her hips. “What did we say about fighting—? And you don’t hit your girlfriend— you don’t hit the people that you care about!” She scolded, pointing her finger. “We raised you better than that…”

Your lips quivered, guilt setting in. “I didn’t mean to hit her! She wanted— she wanted me to… I swear!”

He glanced at his wife. “She wanted you to hit her?” Tommy deadpanned, pressing his lips into a line.

They both looked at you with separate expressions. Maria clearly overwhelmed with disappointment and utter disbelief. The same look she gave you when she caught you smoking cigarettes at the barn when you were fourteen—when you told her you quit. Tommy had an expression of pity, like he often did. That same look he gave when you had a meltdown at school when you first moved in with them.

More tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Maria… Tommy… She pushed me. Why would she do that? Why would she—“ You began to ramble, knees growing weak. Your strict mother-figure rushed to your side, catching you before you fell. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to— she was just being so mean.”

Sinking to the floor with you, her hands caressed your hair. Maria looked to Tommy, mouthing for him to go check on Ellie.

Outside, Ellie was dismissing the weary questions from her friends. She’d never seen you act in such an unruly way. Every time she came over, there wasn’t a hair that was out of place on your head. She was always the one acting out, swearing like a sailor. Sure, she knew about your smoking habit, but that was nothing.

Your girlfriend was envious of how everything was panning out for you—college was around the corner. You had an acceptance letter from your dream school, and without a doubt, you were leaving for the city. Leaving her behind to rot in the country. It wasn’t fair!

That adoption letter felt like pity. She wasn’t a fan of that feeling either.

As a bruise formed on her cheek, guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. Ellie had every intention on seeing the side of you that everyone talked about with a past tense that indicated warning. She needed to prove to herself that you weren’t the perfect person she saw you to be—but all that was left behind was remorse and a sore cheek.

She watched as Joel and Tommy stepped aside to talk. Their eyes glancing back and forth between the door and Ellie, as she leaned against her rusted red truck.

“I can’t believe she would do something like that… On your birthday?” Dina shook her head, with her arms crossed.

“It’s not like her…” Jesse narrowed his eyes at the auburn-haired girl. “What’d you do?”

Dina smacked his chest. “Jessie! She’s literally the victim here— domestic abuse!”

He sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying what she did was right.” Jessie began. “I’m saying that I know Ellie Williams, and I know how she is— she’s a pusher.”

The bruised seventeen-year-old scoffed.

“Yeah, I said it.” He stood tall, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re a pusher. Hell, you’re a professional pusher— you push people for a fucking living.” Dina glared at him, threatening to hit him again. “I mean, there was that one time… When we went into the city for that comic convention, and you completely obliterated Joel for worrying about you—“

The dark-haired, freckled teenager pushed her boyfriend out of the way taking his place. “We don’t have to relive that…”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Look, I know this is my fault…”

“Ellie… You’re the one with the bruise forming on your face.” She reached up, rubbing her cheek. Her wincing under her touch.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing her red eyes. “Yeah, and if it weren’t for me— for what I said… I wouldn’t have this fuckin’ bruise.” Ellie peered at where Joel and Tommy were speaking. They were wrapping up, giving brotherly hugs. “I am a pusher… And now my girlfriend hates me.” She pouted, tears welling up in her eyes. The blond Miller waved a hand at her, giving a tight-lipped smile that screamed I’m sorry. “I gotta go…” She pulled her keys from her pocket, getting into her truck.

That was the last full conversation the two of you had. Horrible, but the last. Everything in between then and the present was short and empty. Light conversations that only strangers and acquaintances shared. Letters here and there. It was a dispute that was so nuanced, for the first year after that, Joel barely said a word to you. Which bled into his relationship with Tommy. Maria tried to play middleman, but it didn’t work.

Perhaps, that was the reason you kept your distance. You didn’t want to continue to be the wedge that formed between two brothers. While you loved your parents, they were only a phone-call away. And, in the meantime, you could focus on growing in your career. Focusing on your book writing, instead.

You just wanted to forget about what happened when you were an emotionally undeveloped seventeen-year-old, but every time you seen her face—you remembered. So, avoiding Ellie Williams was a mission within itself.

A mission you were hoping you weren’t going to have to endure this year.

“You know,” Tommy began, sipping his fresh coffee. “Joel’s coming down from Jersey for the week.”

As you looked through the fridge, you snapped your head in his direction. “Is he now…?” You slowly question. Letting the fridge door shut on its own. The blonde woman to his right, sitting at the island counter, chuckled. Flipping through the interior design magazine you brought for her.

“And he’s picking up Ellie from the city.”

“What!” You exclaim, rushing to the opposite side of the counter. Pulling the mug from his lips, a surprised squeak left your throat. “Uh, dad… You forgot to mention on the several phone calls that we had in that last month that Ellie moved to the city.”

Maria perked up, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’s been there for about a year now… Brooklyn, is it?” She looked to her husband for clarification. He nodded, peering up at you with a plain expression.

“A year?! And none of you told me?”

“Bug, you did say that you didn’t want us to bring her up anymore unless you asked.” Maria stood to her feet, meandering to the stove and oven. “But that does remind me… They should be here in a few hours. Wanna help with the brownies?” She preheated the oven, walking around you casually.

Your mouth fell open, glancing between the two of them. “Okay, so they get brownies, and I get the worst news of my life…” An apron with your nickname embroidered on the front, Bug, hung in your mother's hand as an offering. “Yes, I’ll help with the brownies— this is very cruel to your very successful daughter.”

Tommy waved his hand, dismissively. “C’mon, that incident happened years ago now. You’re twenty-five, I’m sure she’s gotten over it.”

Tying the string around your neck and back, you pressed your lips into a line. It wasn’t really about her—you weren’t over it. You still harbored the same guilt you felt when you settled in your room that night. A crazy mixture of resentment and remorse all rolled up into one feeling; as you settled in your reading nook, with your hand out the window holding a burning cigarette with your index and middle finger. “I’m sure she has…”

Eventually, you switched the conversation around while baking. Falling into fits of laughter from mentioning past stories of your teenagehood. Teaming up with Maria to make fun of Tommy and his aging—all of a sudden, he was beginning to have a knack for playing a checkers. Only old people enjoyed playing checkers. Then, the waiting began.

To busy yourself, you pulled out your computer and brought it to the porch. Even though, you were taking some time off at your publishing job; when it came to your book writing, you had an agent to keep flooding your inbox with emails. Telling you to do this and do that—it was obnoxious. But you did as she asked anyway.

Typing away, a puff of nicotine fled from your lips. Murmuring under your breath, the words that were populating on the screen. On your hip, your phone rang, causing you to throw your head back in slight agony. Something always interrupted you when you were flowing. Flipping open your phone, the decorative chain swinging around as you placed it against your ear. “Hello,” You spoke, stubbing out your cigarette.

It was your roommate and closest friend, Sierra, complaining about the neighbors. Her strong long island accent echoing through the phone. “Oh, my God— they’re so loud! You’d think gettin’ an apartment in a nicer building would thicken the walls.” She groaned on the other end. “Please, come back. At least to tell them to shut up, and then you could go back upstate.”

“Why don’t you… I don’t know…” You shut your laptop, replacing your butt with the boxy electronic. Strolling to the far end of the porch, leaning your arms against the bannister. “Tell them yourself?” An amused smile spread on your lips.

Sierra paused. “Because that’s your job. I’m the nice one, remember?”

“Okay, well I can’t leave. I just got here, and I’m not spending another grand on taxi fare.”

“I’ll spot you.” You could hear her smile on the end.

“Sierra, I’m not coming back until Saturday. So, your only options are to either bang on their door— telling them to shut the hell up— or you suffer listening to their relentless daytime sex.” As you spoke, a truck began rolling up the driveway. Identities unclear due to the intense window tint, but you knew exactly who it was. However, there were three heads in that truck.

She groaned on the other end of the line. “Ugh! I hate you—“

“You love me!” You grinned, but it dropped right off your face when the people exited the vehicle. From the driver's seat, it was Ellie; then, it was Joel who exited, seemingly in conversation. And, finally, a girl stepped out of the vehicle. Joel noticed you leaning against the bannister on the porch, waving his hand with a smile.

Your muscles reacted, waving a fleeting hand. “Maria, Tommy! They’re here!” You yell loud enough to be heard through the screen door. You were always insecure about calling them by their parental titles in front of people—let alone new people.

“You’re yelling in my ear, hon. If you gotta go just tell me.” Sierra complained.

“I gotta go.”

Before she could say her goodbyes, you shut your phone, sliding it into your back pocket. Your parents came out of the house in high spirits; Maria clapping her hands, excitedly, embracing Ellie. Tommy giving a firm bear hug to Joel, laughing heartily—at what? You were unsure.

Awkwardly, you stood there. Smiling with your hands held in front of your body as if you were presenting a project.

Joel looked to you, approaching you with open arms. “Look at you,” He began, wrapping his arms around you, warmly. “All grown up.” He pulled back to get a better look at you, nodding proudly.

“Yeah…” You tapped his shoulder. “You, too.” A chuckle fell from your lips.

Then, you looked to your right at the freckled girl with her arm around a feminine stranger. However, you couldn’t indentify her before you did Ellie. Her auburn hair was pulled into a low bun, with pieces framing her gentle features. Her round evergreen, tinted with slivers of brown, eyes. Freckles decorating her cheeks, bridge of her nose; the beauty mark under left eye—

“Hey,” Ellie drawled out the greeting, awkwardly. Leaning in for a hug that teetered back and forth until you reciprocated.

You kept that same plastered smile on your lips, wrapping your arm under hers. “Hey, Ellie.” Pulling back, you finally looked at the girl beside her. She had tattoos and piercings and looked so much cooler than you. “Who’s this?”

Her earthy eyes widened. “Oh, this is, uhm, my girlfriend, Cat.”

The only response you could give was a nod and a half-hearted wave. It was like a dramatic record scratch in your head. But your parents took over with the rest. Guiding everyone inside to the warmth. Tommy remained outside, giving you skeptical eyes. “Help me with the bags…”

“Honey, don’t be weird about this.” He spoke, as you followed him to the truck.

“I’m not being weird.” You whined, gravel crunching under your feet. “Seriously, what’s to be weird about?” Reaching into the open trunk, you pulled out luggage’s and duffle bags. This was a lot of stuff for a week stay—they brought more than you did.

He gruffly breathed, pulling up the handle of one of the suitcases. “You’re my daughter, I know you— just sayin’…”

“Oh, my God— please!” You complained, hooking the duffle over your shoulder, pulling one of the luggage’s. Leaving him to follow you toward the porch.

Dinner had come quicker than you had hoped. If anything, if you could magically skip over the thing, and still eat, that would’ve been perfect.

All six of you sat at the dining table, forks and knives scratching at ceramic plates. Tommy and Joel had gathered in the back, last minute to cook up some steaks. And, to busy yourself, you helped Maria with the sides while Ellie and Cat got situated in the guest house.

“So, y/n, how’s the book comin’ along?” Joel wondered, putting a cut piece of steak into his mouth.

You made a surprised sound as you chewed your food, rushing to swallow. “Shit, you’re writing a book?” Ellie questioned, leaning her elbows on the table.

Taking a sip of water, you decided to respond. “Yeah, I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes glanced at her, then moved on, quickly, to Joel’s. “It’s… Coming along.” A bashful laugh fell from your lips, as your hand reached for the glass of wine. It was barely touched, red hue swishing in the bulb of the glass as you took a sip. It’s fruity bitterness relishing over your tongue.

“What is it— like fiction or…?” Ellie pressed, genuinely.

“Non-fiction. A book of essay’s, really— written in different forms.” You nodded. “It sounds boring…”

Ellie shrugged, forking a piece of meat into her mouth. “Doesn’t sound boring to me.” She responded, with her mouth full.

“It’s the farthest from boring, honey.” Maria massaged your shoulder, sharing a small smile. You mirrored her in return, forking at the vegetables on your plate—perfectly steamed broccoli.

“How’s Brooklyn treating you?” You spoke up, raising your eyebrows.

Ellie lightly glared at Joel before answering, placing her utensils down. “It’s certainly treating me…” She muttered, rubbing her hands together, glancing at her girlfriend.

“It’s a great place for art, but just not Ellie’s art.” Cat chuckled, sipping from her wine glass.

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing.” You nod.

“I recall her using the words: too crowded.” Joel used air quotes to briefly describe the past conversation.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It makes me feel crowded— the city. When you say it like that, it makes me sound fucking stupid, Joel.”

“You did say crowded.”

“Well, I meant overwhelmed.”

You snickered at their bickering, leaning back in your chair. “Back to your art, I guess you’re experiencing the artistic equivalent to writers block?” Tommy inquired, still chewing on his steak, raising an eyebrow. The auburn-haired young woman nodded, chuckling to herself. “That’s why you’re stayin’ with us for a little while, huh?”

Another record scratch.

You blinked at you father, deepening your eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Joel had set his beer on the table, leaning forward. “Yeah, Ellie’s stayin’ with your parents for a little while to get her juices flowing, again.” He explained, pressing his lips into a soft smile. Ellie cringed at his use of the words juices, taking a sip of her beer.

Tommy and Maria told you nothing unless you asked for it for almost everything now—you at least deserved to know that Ellie was staying on the farm indefinitely. After all, when they’re dead and gone, it’ll be yours; so, they could’ve at least told you without you having to ask—that’s big!

“And, I’ll help out so I won’t be sleeping the day away— because I know that I will without a proper schedule.”

“I thought you guys didn’t need a farmhand.” You glanced at your parents, with your eyebrows still deepened with confusion.

Maria chuckled, standing to her feet. “We don’t need anything, but who could say no to a helping hand?” She grabs the empty basket of biscuits from the center of the table. “Anybody want more biscuits?”

“I would love some!” Cat spoke up, holding up a tattooed finger.

“Me too, honey.” Tommy also spoke.

A dry chortle left your lips, leaning against the back of the chair. “Are you staying on the farm, too?” You peered over at the stranger—the girlfriend, with a slight accusatory tone.

Her lips parted a few times before she responded. “Oh, no, I’m going back to Brooklyn. Not much of a country girl.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded, downing the rest of your wine. This week was going to be a doozy. When Maria came back to the table, you snatched a biscuit from the basket, biting into it. There was a perfect crispy layer on the outside, mixed with the perfect gooey, soft innards of the biscuit. “These are so good.” You muttered with your mouth full with its buttery goodness.

On your hip, your phone buzzed. Cursing under your breath, you plucked the cellphone from your belt, flicking it open. It was your agent calling you at eight o’clock at night. “Excuse me, I gotta take this.” You scooted the chair back, pressing the green button. “It’s late, Isa.” You started the call, stalking out of the room like the corporate woman you are. Taking the route up the stairs to your old bedroom.

“I need that new chapter by tomorrow morning— as in, 8am.” She scolded on the other line. “I’m personally reminding you. Since you couldn’t respond to my emails.”

You sighed, shutting your bedroom door behind you. “Isa, I’ve been traveling all day on public transport, and I’ve been trying to have family time— is that not what Thanksgiving is about?”

“You’re writer, hon. You have little bit of family time, then you hermit to finish your work— now, stop giving me grief. Time is of the essence.” Her smooth voice told, chuckling after her words. “I’ll be anticipating you’re new chapter tomorrow at eight! Have a great night.”

“Have a great night…”

Slapping your phone shut, you sighed, running your other hand over your face. Being a writer was relentless—just as relentless as you and your roommate’s neighbors. But, instead of lingering in frustration, you grabbed your heavy laptop and propped yourself on the cushion beside your window—your reading nook. Not forgetting to put a Sade tape inside of your stereo for some background music, before you began to diligently work.

You typed at your computer, rapid clicking sounds filling your ears. Although, it was no surprise that you worked your hardest after the sun set—it was like you had one too many espresso shots.

Every word was coming from the heart, and coincidentally enough, the guests at your home made it easier. This chapter was definitely reflecting the feelings you felt the day of Ellie’s seventeenth birthday. You used imagery and metaphors to describe that feeling of attack—being backed into a corner, having the worst part of yourself brought into the light. And, like most of your pieces, it was dredging it all back up again; the emotions.

That feeling of losing the only person that truly understood you.

Of course, you had a few relationships since then—a few, trying to chase that same feeling you felt when your hands touched. But there wasn’t anyone who could compare to her. How pathetic was it to still be harping on a highschool sweetheart?

Hours passed under the radar. Your parents being the mile marker in your work, knocking on the door to let you know everyone was heading to bed. Too busy with outlining new ideas, you barely spared them a glance, muttering a smooth goodnight.

It was about one in the morning by the time you finished the chapter. Still, it needed some tweaking, but it was good enough to send to your agent for the editor to look at.

Shutting your laptop, you finally took in your old bedroom. Various music artists slapped against your soft pink walls, attached with tape—some corners hanging off. Catwoman figurines lining the back of your large, white, wooden dresser; with comics stacked alongside them. Stacks of old books in the corner of your room, stacked from the floor to the middle of her wall. If you were to stumble into them, they’d experience one hell of a fall.

Suddenly, curiosity struck.

Hopping from the cushioned seat under your paneled window, you looked under your bed. Reaching for an old shoebox that was filled with many, many interesting things. You slid it from under the dusty bed frame, taking it back to that plushy seat you appreciated so dearly. Plucking the top off, you released a sigh. Immediately being hit with polaroids of yourself as a teenager—mostly standing beside, laughing with, and cuddling Ellie.

They were the photos you snatched from your wall after that fight. Oh, she looked the same. Still had that uncertainty in her earthy, olive eyes. You didn’t understand it then, and you most definitely didn’t understand it now. Ellie didn’t have to feel the uncertainty she was used to in foster care. She had people who believed in her—who will always believe in her.

Sifting through, your hands hovered over a letter she wrote. It was an apology letter sent around the time of her eighteenth birthday—almost a full year since the situation. The envelope was ripped open from the day you received it; stained with salty, heartbroken tears.

If only that day never happened…

A startling knock sounded at your window. It was no more than a pebble, which was confirmed when another launched within your sights. Scrunching up your eyebrows, you unlocked it, pulling it upwards. Once you peaked your head outside into the brisk, cool weather, a small smile spread onto your lips.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’ up there?” Ellie called from below. “I brought a little somethin’… Thought you could use a break from writing.” She waved a tightly rolled joint in her hands—which could only be seen if you squinted.

The corners of your lips spread wider, feeling horribly nostalgic. “You’re actually a little too late on that front. I finished a few minutes ago,” You pressed your lips into a line, continuing. “But I could never turn down smoke break. I’ll be down in a second.”

Dropping the letter, you scooted off the seat to grab your jacket. Stuffing your feet into the semi-stained Uggs you wore into the ground, before fleeing your bedroom. You didn’t feel the need to sneak down the stairs, but a part of you wanted to—to relieve that feeling of adrenaline you felt in your youth.

Ellie met you at the back door, holding open the creaking screen door as you exited. “I honestly wasn’t sure you still did this.” She chuckled, looking at the ground as you both began to walk away from the house. Putting some distance so the smell wouldn’t upset the elders in the home.

“What? Smoke weed?” You perked an eyebrow. “You think because I went all corporate, I stopped being down?”

“Actually… Yeah.” She responded, nervously snickering.

The two ofyou settled in front of this white-lined shed that was illuminated by the two warm, orange-toned lights on either side of the door. “Well, you’re kind of right…” You admitted, squinting your eyes, embarrassed. It’s hard being known for your adaptability. “I try to keep the pot smoking to a minimum. In the corporate world they test you for it.”

Ellie pulled the joint from behind her ear, placing it between her lips. She shook her head in response to your words. “Says the cigarette smoker…” She joked, eyeing you, teasingly. While she flicked her lighter to burn the tip.

“Hey, they don’t give a rats ass about nicotine— I need to make up for that loss somehow. I’m a writer for christ’s sake.”

When she finally gets it to catch the fire, she took two puffs before passing it to you between her index and thumb. “Where’s Cat?” You innocently questioned, taking a hit of the joint, then looking at it, before taking another hit.

Ellie became rigid, releasing an exasperated sigh from her lips. “The guesthouse, watchin’ some movie.”

You handed her the joint. “What, is she not down?” Mocking your previous words, with amused eyes. However, her demeanor had quickly shifted.

“She gets easily frustrated after traveling all day…” She shook her head in a dismissive way, like she didn’t want any further questions to asked.

“Hm… That’s relatable.”

Silence engulfed the both of you as you passed the blunt back and forth until it was nothing more than a roach. Hearing nothing but the distant wind chimes sounding off on the porch.

Before speaking, Ellie took a deep breath, glancing over at you as if she were nervous to make eye contact. “I hope me stayin’ here for a little bit doesn’t bother you too much.”

Her words were double-take worthy, you looked over at her with expressive eyes—widening, in surprise. “Bother me? Why would it bother me?” You leaned your shoulder on the shed, kicking one leg over the other.

“You didn’t seem like the biggest fan—“

“Ellie, I was surprised. That’s all.” You waved your hand, shaking your head. “I feel like they don’t tell me shit anymore…” Shoulders shrugging, you glance toward the house standing tall in all its glory. “They didn’t tell me about you moving to Brooklyn, either. What does it look like when someone you’ve known your whole life moves to a city you’re actually familiar with and they’re not, and you don’t reach out to help them? I’m only a forty minute train ride away.” You rambled, deepening your eyebrows. “They basically made me look like an asshole.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d react if you knew about Ellie’s moving to the big city. Knowing your habits, you’d probably sit by the phone for hours before making the move to give her a call. But, it’s not like you were given the opportunity to figure it out for yourself. Now, it just appeared that you forgot about her—or could care less about her endeavors; which is farthest from the truth.

Her full lips cracked into a smile, chuckling. The auburn-haired woman, mirrored your position, leaning her shoulder against the wooden shed. “Always worried about what you look like…” She muttered, sucking her teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re an asshole— you just didn’t know.” Ellie shrugged. “It’s not like we talk as much as we used to…”

As much as we used to. That kind of stung.

Your eyes averted to the gravel under your boots. “Yeah…” There was an awkward beat that took its place between you. Swallowing, you shooed it away with speaking up. “What about your art? You’re living in one of the most creative cities in the world, and you can’t create?”

She puffed air from her lips, glancing in the direction of the guesthouse, priming her lips. “Okay… Confession— but only if what’s said here stays here.”

“What’s said at the shed, stays at the shed.” You affirm, holding a hand and crossing to fingers. The high from what you smoked clouding your mind, squinting your eyes and loosening your inhibitions.

“Cat and I moved in together pretty early— too early… I needed a roommate and she was the perfect option.” Ellie began, carefully. Olive eyes shifting under the dim light in thought. “I swear ever since I moved in with her… The inspiration to make anything new is fucking gone.” She ran her hand over her hair, which was actually loose without a hair tie. Dusting over her shoulders, pieces pushed behind her ears. “She, you know, hovers a lot— in a sweet way, it’s just irritating because not even her pushing me can be inspiring.”

Your heart skipped a beat; it was hopeful—you really are an asshole! “Damn… So, it’s not the city that makes you feel crowded. It’s Cat.” You hum, nodding your head, taking in your assumption. “And… You think staying here will help? Doing boring farm work?” A chuckle falls from your lips, borderline nervous, borderline humored.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I spent a lot of time here growin’ up…” Ellie looked at you, knowingly. “It was never boring when we did it together.”

“That’s because we were doing it together. I’m not gonna be here while you’re shoveling horse shit.” You chortled, peering at her through hazy eyes. She giggled and it sounded like music to your ears. It’s been awhile since you heard her laugh from something you said. Weed always did have a way of bringing people together.

“Well, maybe before you go, you could help me out. Jog my memory.” Ellie offered, raising her eyebrows. “It’s either you or suffering through Tommy’s jokes for hours—“

“I don’t mind, but we might have to jog each others memory.”

“Hey, you can take the girl out the country, but not the country out the girl.” She shrugged. “I have faith in you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, a smile spread on your lips. “You’re still so corny.” Shaking your head, a laugh slips. Wrapping your arms around your body, you acknowledge the cool weather. It pricked at your exposed skin, and even through your jacket. “It’s getting late…”

She scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I appreciate the joint— I needed it.” You pushed off the shed wall, licking your lips. In preparation to meander back toward the house, you rocked on your feet. “There’s some left over biscuits on the counter…” You drawled, but it was all right because Ellie had filled in for you.

“I’m fucking starving.”

Then, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder back inside. Giggling at stupid jokes, surfing over any of the past debacles you had. Turns out reconvening with your childhood lover wasn’t so bad after all. For now, anyway.

[myinaru]

Childhood Best Friend Complex

You and Heeseung have been best friends forever. Emphasis on forever. Like, learned-how-to-walk-together type of forever. But college throws a wrench into your usual routine: one night blurs a line that was never supposed to move, and suddenly, everything feels different. Now there’s weird tension, awkward silences, and unspoken things you’re both too stubborn to say out loud. You don’t know what’s worse, pretending nothing’s changed or admitting everything has. Because staying friends? That was always the plan. Wanting more? That was never supposed to happen.

Pairing: Lee Heeseung x Fem!Reader

Genre: College AU, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 39.6k Total (14.4k - Part 1)

Warnings: Dry humping (hell yeah), Corny maybe idc, Lots of misunderstanding, Mentions of multiple kpop idols, Cursing, Cunnilingus, Unprotected sex (pls don't), Praising, Heeseung is a yearner, Lmk if I missed anything lol

Author's Note: First time uploading here lol. This fic was heavily inspired by the manhwa/webtoon Childhood Friend Complex. I'll be splitting it into three parts since Tumblr won't let me post it in one go. Hope y'all enjoy T-T

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You and Heeseung had spent twenty chaotic years crashing into each other. Bickering, teasing, arguing like it was your first language. Now, you were slumped on the floor of his dorm, drunk and quiet, knees touching, the air between you strangely charged.

Heeseung didn’t move much. Just watched you with wide, unreadable eyes. His hand crept toward yours slowly, like even the thought of reaching for you was too loud. His fingers brushed yours. Then stopped.

His breath hit your cheek. It was warm. Uneven. And then, in the softest voice you’d ever heard from him, he said, “Do you... want to kiss?”

No smirk. No teasing. Just fear, and something he couldn’t hide fast enough. He’d never say it unless he thought you might say yes. Because if you didn’t, he wouldn’t know how to come back from it.

You froze, confused. “You’re drunk,” you said with a nervous laugh, nudging his arm.

Heeseung’s expression tightened. A flash of hurt crossed his face before he forced a laugh, too sharp to be real. “Yeah, I’m drunk. Fuck, Y/n. You really think...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Forget it. Stupid idea.”

He started to pull away, but his reflexes were off. His knee bumped into yours, and he hissed. More from the weight of rejection than pain. “Fuck. Stupid,” he muttered, catching himself against the wall. His eyes narrowed. “What’s your problem? Why are you... you never... God, forget it.”

You furrowed your brows, head spinning slightly. You grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving.

He stiffened at your touch, breathing heavily. For a moment, he just stared at you, searching your face like he was trying to read every single thought behind your eyes. His hand twitched in yours, like he wanted to pull you close but was holding back.

“Don’t play games with me,” he said softly, dangerously quiet. “Not tonight. Not after...” He swallowed hard. “God, Y/n. If you keep looking at me like that, I don’t know if I can...”

He broke off with a strangled sound, forehead leaning against yours. “Tell me I’m being stupid,” he whispered. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me it’s just the alcohol.”

You swallowed. “It might be the alcohol... but I’m not telling you I don’t want it. I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore... Can’t we just not regret this tomorrow?”

He went still. His heart felt like it stopped before thundering back to life. “That... that’s not—I mean...” he stammered, hands trembling slightly as he brought them to your face. His thumbs gently stroked your cheekbones. “Are you serious right now?”

His voice was rough, thick with emotion he rarely let show. His eyes searched yours intently, looking for any trace of hesitation. “Because if this is real... if you actually want...” He swallowed again. “Shit, Y/n. You have no idea what you do to me.”

You didn’t answer with words. You leaned in and kissed him.

The moment your lips met, he let out a shaky gasp. His hands moved to your hair, fingers tangling as he kissed you back with a desperate intensity. It was messy, passionate, tongue and teeth, hunger barely held back.

A small moan escaped him, muffled against your lips. His body pressed flush to yours, fitting like a puzzle piece that had always been missing. One of his hands slid to the small of your back, fingers digging into your shirt as he pulled you closer.

When you broke apart for air, he was panting, eyes dark with desire. He rested his forehead against yours.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that. How many times I’ve imagined it,” he said.

You smirked, resting your finger against his lips. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret tomorrow.”

He nipped at your finger lightly, his teeth grazing the skin. His eyes locked with yours, full of heat and promise.

“No regrets,” he murmured. “Not tonight. Not with you.”

Then he kissed you again, hard. His hands slid to your hips, gripping tightly as he pulled you onto his lap. The position pressed your bodies together, and he groaned into your mouth.

“I want you,” he breathed, voice ragged. “I want you so fucking much, Y/n. Want to feel you, taste you, make you mine.” His hands slipped under your shirt, fingers brushing over your bare back. His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

You mirrored his touch, sliding your hand down his chest, feeling the toned muscle beneath. As you moved closer, you felt his erection press against you.

Heeseung sucked in a breath. His muscles tensed under your fingers. When you rolled your hips against his, his reaction was immediate, hips bucking, breath catching. “Y/n…” he groaned. “That feels so good. You’re killing me.” His hands held your hips tighter, guiding your movements, slow and deliberate. You could feel every hard inch of him, even through the layers.

“I bet you’d look so pretty riding me,” he panted into your neck, kissing along your throat. “Bet you’d take me so well. I want to feel you squeeze around me. Fall apart on my dick.” One hand came up to cup your breast, fingers kneading the soft flesh through your bra.

You let out a shaky breath, grinding harder.

He let out a low growl of appreciation, helping you move against him. “That’s it. Take what you need. Fuck, the way you move...” His thumb brushed over your nipple through the fabric, sending heat straight to your core. He pinched and rolled it, his other hand still firm on your hip. “I want to watch you fall apart,” he murmured. “Want to hear you moan my name.”

Your head fell onto his shoulder as you whimpered his name, picking up the pace.

Heeseung gasped, thrusting up to meet you. “Yes, just like that. Fuck, you feel so good. So perfect. Such a good girl for me.” His hand slid up your back and into your hair, tugging gently. The other dipped into your pants, under your underwear, gripping your ass firmly. “If you keep doing that,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear, “I’m gonna come in my pants.”

You smirked. “That’s honestly a turn on.”

He shuddered, overwhelmed. He looked at you, eyes dark and blown wide. “It is? You like knowing how much I want you?” He ground against you harder, letting you feel every inch of him. “Because I’m so fucking close. You’re gonna make me explode in these jeans.” His thumb pressed against your clit, slow circles over your underwear. “Think you can make me come like this? Grinding until I lose it? Bet you’d love feeling me twitch against your pretty pussy.”

You bit your lip, meeting his rhythm. “I know you’ll cum for me. You always do what I tell you, don’t you? Just like the good little boy you are.”

Heeseung let out a strangled moan, body seizing. “Oh fuck...Y/n... I’m cumming!” He buried his face in your neck, biting down on your shoulder to muffle the cry. His cock pulsed and twitched, hot release soaking his pants as he clung to you. Your name fell from his lips in broken whimpers.

You came with him, body shuddering, head falling to his shoulder. “Ngh... fuck... so tired...” you mumbled.

Heeseung smiled, exhausted but content. He held you close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. He shifted, laying back on the bed and pulling you with him. After dressing you in spare clothes, he cleaned himself up and returned to curl beside you.

He watched you sleep, your face peaceful, before sleep took him too. Still half-drunk, halfaware.

The screeching of your alarm feels like a knife in your skull. You reach for your phone, slapping it down with a groan, but the damage is done. Your head’s pounding, and it feels like the world’s spinning under you.

Beside you, Heeseung groans, the sound muffled by the pillow he’s half-smothered in. “Ugh. Shut it up,” he mutters, flinging his arm over his face like it’ll save him.

You don’t even have the energy to respond. Your hand moves instinctively to your forehead, trying to ease the ache that feels like it’s about to split your brain in two.

Heeseung shifts, throwing his arm away from his eyes. He squints at you through the haze, his face scrunched up in discomfort. “Oh my god,” he groans dramatically, his voice barely more than a croak. “I think I might actually die today.”

You don’t even respond at first. Your mind is too busy reeling, trying to piece together what the hell happened last night. It’s like watching a movie in slow motion, the details fading in and out.

And then, bam. It all comes rushing back.

You dry-humped your best friend.

You don't even know where to begin. Last night was a blur of alcohol and hormones and bad decisions. Your hands on his chest. His breath hitching. Your bodies moving together in the dim light. His voice in your ear. Your best friend, your dumb, sweet, annoying, beautiful best friend had his hands all over you.

And you… let him.

No.

You wanted him to.

You groan again, burying a pillow over your face.

“What’s wrong with you?” Heeseung mutters, still not fully opening his eyes.

“What’s wrong with me?” You yank the pillow away and look at him. “What the hell was last night, Heeseung?”

That gets his attention. He blinks at you like a deer in headlights. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Oh shit.”

He bolts upright, sheets falling away. “Wait- we didn’t, right? We didn’t actually-?” He gestures wildly.

“No!” you say too fast. “God, no. But we… we dry humped each other for, like, an hour, on the floor.”

Heeseung flops back, groaning into the pillow now. “Kill me. Just end it. Right here. I’ll leave you my gaming chair in my will.”

You toss a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face.

“You started it!” you snap.

“You climbed on top of me!”

“You pulled me down!”

“You were grinding!”

“You moaned!”

Heeseung yelps, shoving the pillow into his face. “Shut up!”

The pillow shifts just enough for him to peek at you. His eyes are wide, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I didn’t even-” he blurts. A beat. Then quieter: “Well, maybe.”

He lets the pillow fall into his lap, deflating like a kicked balloon. “God. That was so stupid. So, so stupid. What do we even do now?”

You wince at the memory of what you said last night. Every detail’s still painfully vivid. “Well... we said no regrets, right?” Your voice comes out careful, uncertain. “We agreed.”

Heeseung goes quiet for a moment, eyes scanning the floor. Then he gives a small nod, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Right. No regrets.”

He rubs a hand through his hair, only making the mess worse. “So... we’re good? Still friends and everything?”

“Only if you swear, we never mention the phrase ‘dry-humped’ in front of each other again.”

“Deal.” His voice wavers, just enough to give him away. “Because honestly, if we’re not anymore, I might actually combust right here.”

You snort, reaching for the nearest pillow and tossing it at him. “You’re so dramatic. I’m not gonna throw away twenty years of friendship just because we almost-”

Your voice catches. You clear your throat and stand up instead. You only realize then, you’re wearing his hoodie. Not yours. Definitely not yours. It hangs oversized on your frame, soft and warm. You glance at yourself in the mirror, cheeks flushing.

Heeseung catches on too, eyes widening. “Oh, uh- yeah. Sorry about the clothes. You would have been sleeping in your outside clothes and I blurred out and just- gave you that. I didn’t look. I swear.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure.”

He makes a strangled noise and looks away. “Okay, well, want breakfast or something? I heard food helps with hangovers.”

You take one last glance at yourself in the mirror before nodding. “Thanks, by the way. I didn’t bring pajamas, so… appreciate it.” You point toward the bathroom. “Can I shower here?”

Heeseung nods quickly, still red in the face. “Yeah. Of course. Towels are in the cabinet under the sink. Shampoo and stuff’s in there too.”

You start walking past him, and he inhales, just a little too deeply. You catch it. His laundry soap mixed with your perfume lingers between you.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, stopping you just before you disappear into the bathroom. His voice softens. “About last night… I’m glad it didn’t mess anything up. You’re sickeningly important to me or whatever, Y/n.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, ignoring how your stomach flips at how disgustingly earnest he says your name.

“Me too,” you reply. “It’d be a waste to throw twenty years down the drain over one really… weird night.”

Heeseung exhales, like he’s been holding that breath all morning. “Exactly. Besides,” he adds, a small smile forming, “who else would put up with me and feed me when I’m too hungover to move?”

You roll your eyes, though the corner of your mouth lifts. “You’re such a loser.”

“Yeah, well, you love it,” he retorts with a laugh, clearly relieved. “Now go take your shower before the water goes cold, princess.”

You snicker as you close the door behind you. “Stop calling me that! You’re so fucking weird when you’re nice.”

Heeseung’s laughter rings out from the other side of the door. “I can’t believe you’re still talking back while you’re in the bathroom. What kind of weirdo are you?”

You hear him flop onto the bed again as the shower water turns on, his voice muffled by the bathroom door. “I can’t believe I dry-humped my best friend. Classic Heeseung,” he mutters to himself, clearly still cringing.

After about twenty minutes, you both finished getting ready, falling into silence, moving like you had been doing this forever. You didn’t talk much, just small comments and glances over breakfast before going to the university together.

By the time you reached campus, there was barely any time left before classes started.

Without much choice, the two of you split ways. Different departments, different buildings. Still, that parting tugged at something. Maybe it was how reluctant Heeseung looked, or the way his eyes lingered a second too long.

Heeseung, for his part, couldn’t focus all day.

His professors might as well have been speaking gibberish. He found himself zoning out midlecture, thumb absentmindedly grazing the edge of his notebook as images of last night kept flashing in his mind. The way your voice softened when you were sleepy. The heat of your skin when you leaned too close.

He was still stuck in that daze by lunchtime, hovering near the cafeteria entrance with his tray in hand, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. You were seated by the window, halfheartedly poking your food with your expression unreadable. He hesitated.

Should he join you? Would that be weird?

After a moment of internal chaos, he sucked it up and walked over, plopping down across from you like it was no big deal.

"Hey," he said, voice casual but eyes hesitant. "Didn’t know if you wanted company. Didn’t wanna be annoying."

You didn’t even look up right away, just poked at your food with a spoon. Then you smirked. “I was literally looking for you earlier. Then I gave up 'cause I got lazy." He blinked in surprise. That made his shoulders relax just a little.

"You know," you added, finally meeting his eyes, "what’s with you lately? You’re acting weird. You’re never this... nice. It’s freaking me out."

Heeseung sat up straighter, hand pausing mid-bite. "I’m not nice? Wow, okay. Maybe I’m just trying something new. Ever thought of that?"

"There he is," you said with a laugh, reaching across the table to pat his shoulder a little too hard. "There’s the asshole I grew up with. Thought I lost you for a second."

Heeseung winced and rubbed his shoulder. "Ow. You trying to dislocate my arm? Damn. You're lucky I even tolerate you. Especially with that garbage personality of yours."

But you caught it, that flicker in his eyes when you touched him, even briefly. The twitch of his lips he tried to suppress when you teased him back.

Things might’ve continued that way, comfortable, familiar. If only Jay hadn’t suddenly flopped into the seat next to Heeseung.

"Dude. Be real with me. Are you dating her or what?"

Your fork froze mid-air. Heeseung choked on his water.

"What?! No- what are you-" He looked between you and Jay, a bit panicked. "We’re just friends! Why would you even-?"

Jay shrugged. "I mean, the way you two bicker like an old married couple? Come on. And the rumors are already everywhere."

You raised a brow, glancing at Heeseung. "Who in their right mind would think I’d date him?"

"Excuse you," Heeseung shot back, glaring. "I’d rather shove my head in a blender than date some clingy, passive-aggressive- ow, god!" He hissed as you kicked him under the table.

Jay just watched with a grin. "You two are exhausting."

Then his grin widened as he leaned closer to Heeseung. "But since you’re not dating her, does that mean Jung Yeri’s got a shot with you?"

You blinked. That name made your stomach do something unfamiliar and ugly.

Heeseung visibly tensed. "What? Why are you even-?"

"Dude," Jay laughed. "She’s been all over you. Pretty sure half the class already thinks you two are a thing."

Right on cue, a girl that looked suspiciously like Jung Yeri sauntered by. She tossed Heeseung a slow, deliberate wink before settling at a table nearby.

Jay elbowed him again. "Go talk to her! You’re blowing it!"

But Heeseung looked like he’d just been cornered by a wild animal.

You tried not to laugh. Honestly, you really tried. But your hand twitched and your lips curled as you bit down on the inside of your cheek. It was a struggle not to smirk as you watched him flail.

"I- no," Heeseung said abruptly, voice sharper than he meant. "I’m not into her."

Jay blinked. "Seriously? She’s not your type?"

Heeseung let out a strangled sound, running his hand through his hair. "She’s fine, I guess, but I’m not... I do not like. I’m already-"

His eyes flicked toward you, just briefly.

"...interested in someone else."

Your hand paused on your tray. You glanced up at him, lips parting slightly, but you said nothing.

Jay, of course, was relentless. "What? Since when?! Who?"

Heeseung mumbled something, but it was too low for anyone to catch.

Jay leaned closer. "Huh?"

Heeseung snapped, "It’s none of your business!"

You finally cracked. The laugh escaped before you could catch it, loud and unfiltered. You covered your mouth, turning your head, shoulders shaking.

Heeseung glared. "What’s so funny?!"

Jay smirked like the puzzle pieces finally clicked. "Wait a second... it’s her, isn’t it? You’ve got it bad for Y/n."

Heeseung nearly choked on his drink again. "What?! No!" he barked. "I don’t like her like that!" You only laughed harder, tears starting to prick your eyes from holding it in.

Jay turned to you. "Is that true? You two really aren’t into each other?"

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve, calming down enough to deadpan, "The only day I’d be into him is if the world ended and we were the last people alive."

Heeseung’s smirk wobbled for a second. "Right back at you. I’d rather eat glass than date you."

Jay shook his head and stood. "Y’all are full of it. Anyway, I’ve got class. Try not to murder each otherwhile I’m gone."

Once he left, the tension stayed behind. Quieter, but heavier somehow.

You leaned in. “Really? You like someone who’s not Yeri?”

Heeseung stiffened, his eyes darting to yours. He opened his mouth, closed it, then scowled and looked away.

“Why do you care?” he muttered. “It’s not like it matters.”

You grinned. “Are you sure Yeri isn’t this mystery lady you secretly like?”

“Oh God, no way!” he blurted, then winced. “I mean, she’s… not my type. At all.”

He picked at his rice like it offended him. “I don’t even know why you’re asking. It’s not like I’m going to tell you who it is.”

You shrugged, standing to set your tray aside. “Do whatever you want. Although…” you smirked as you leaned your chin on your palm, “I do hope your virgin ass finally gets laid.” Heeseung’s head snapped up. “EXCUSE ME?!” he nearly yelled.

Everyone turned. He ducked down, voice hissing now. “I am not a virgin! And even if I was, that’s none of your business!” He crossed his arms. “Besides, you’re one to talk. When’s the last time you even went on a date?”

Your smile fell. “Hey! For your information, I’m actually set to go on a group date with my friends this Friday.”

His expression darkened instantly. “A group date?” he reiterated. “Since when are you into that kind of thing? I thought you hated crowds.” He leaned closer, tone sharp. “And who exactly are you going with? Do I know them? Are they even decent people?”

You crossed your arms. “Why do you care? And besides, it’s about time my miserable ass gets a boyfriend.”

Heeseung’s hands tightened around the edge of the table. He forced a laugh, bitter, hollow. “Yeah. Good luck with that. Let me know how that works out for you.”

Then, he stood up, abruptly, chair scraping loudly behind him. His tray clattered as he grabbed it. “I have to go. Class starts soon.”

You frowned. “Hey-”

But he was already walking away.

You blinked, confused. “You don’t even have afternoon classes today…” You shook your head, carrying your tray to the bin. You frowned as you watched him storm off, tray in hand and tension radiating from every step.

The doors clattered shut behind him.

You stood there for a few seconds, tray still in your hands, like your brain hadn’t caught up to your body yet. Heeseung never walked away from an argument. He lived for comebacks, lived for that smug look he always wore when he got the last word.

So why now?

You blinked, startled by the tight knot forming in your chest. Was it something you said? You turned slowly toward the trash bins, tossing your leftovers away, but your mind wasn’t really on autopilot like it usually was. You weren’t thinking about your next class. Not even about what Jay said or how half the cafeteria had stared at you when Heeseung yelled about not being a virgin.

No, all your thoughts were stuck back at the table. Replaying the way his eyes darkened when you brought up the group date. The way his jaw tensed. That laugh that wasn’t a real laugh, more like something brittle, something breaking.

And then he’d left. Just… walked out.

You stood by the bins, fingers loosely gripping the edge, your tray empty but your head full of noise. The kind of silence that rings in your ears when everything around you moves on and you’re just… stuck.

You leaned against the counter, letting out a slow breath as your thoughts started spiraling.

Why was he upset?

Sure, you teased him. You always did. That wasn’t new. Neither was him teasing back.

But this time…this time he’d gotten weirdly defensive. About Yeri. About you going on a date. About everything, really.

He always called you annoying, or brat, or headache, but he’d never looked angry. Not like that.

Not like someone who was… hurt.

You stared at the floor.

And then it hit you, an idea awfully insane, and kind of stupid.

He was acting jealous.

The word lodged itself in your brain like a splinter.

No. No way. That didn’t make sense. This was Heeseung. He’d rather die than admit he liked anyone. Heeseung, who called you a cockroach just last week when you stole his fries.

Heeseung, who once said he’d sooner become a monk than date you.

Still, you couldn’t shake it.

That look in his eyes when you joked about finally getting a boyfriend.

That silence.

The way he’d refused to look at you when he said, “Yeah. Good luck with that.”

You slowly made your way out of the cafeteria, feet dragging more than usual. Your fingers were twitchy, like they wanted to text him, but you couldn’t even think of what you’d say.

And still, that question kept circling back in your head.

Annoying. Shitty. Question.

He’s not… jealous… is he?

Heeseung didn’t even remember how he got back to his dorm. One second he was standing in the cafeteria, hearing you joke about getting a boyfriend, and the next he was outside, walking blindly through campus with his fists jammed deep in his pockets.

The cold didn't help. If anything, it made his thoughts sharper, more jagged.

It's about time my miserable ass gets a boyfriend. He could still hear it. Like a punchline he wasn’t in on.

He kicked a stray rock across the sidewalk, watching it bounce into the bushes.

“Stupid,” he muttered, jaw clenched. “So fucking stupid.”

He didn’t know what pissed him off more, the thought of you with some guy from that group date or the fact that he had no right to be this upset in the first place. You weren’t his. You never had been.

But that didn’t stop his chest from tightening every time he imagined you laughing with someone else. Sitting beside him. Holding his hand.

Heeseung cursed under his breath as he shoved his dorm room door open and slammed it shut behind him. He let himself fall face-first onto his bed, eyes burning holes into the ceiling.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Not after everything that happened.

Not after that night.

Your lips. The way you melted into him. The way your hands gripped his hoodie like you didn’t want to let go.

He let out a groan and buried his face into his pillow.  

What the hell were you even thinking?

He wanted to text you. Apologize maybe. Pretend it didn’t matter. But every time he picked up his phone, his thumbs froze, and the words disappeared.

So instead, he just laid there. Let the ache sit with him like it had every night since.

You walked into class like you were wearing a mask.

Blouse tucked in. Skirt straightened. Smile tight.

Everything looked fine from the outside. But inside? Your brain had been on a loop for hours, trying to make sense of what the hell had just happened with Heeseung.

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. Friends fight. You probably just hit a nerve. Maybe he was stressed. Maybe you’d said something wrong.

Maybe-

“Earth to Y/n.”

You blinked, startled, as Vicky waved her hand in front of your face.

“You've been staring at your notebook like it's gonna write itself,” she said with a giggle. “Everything okay?”

You forced a smile. “Uhm… yeah. Just thinking about... things.”

Vicky raised an eyebrow. “Things,” she repeated. “Uh-huh. Right. Like how you’ve been zoning out since you sat down. Does this have anything to do with that guy you’re always with?”

Your smile froze. “What- Heeseung? No, why would-”

She gasped softly. “Oh my god, it is about him.”

Before you could argue, she clapped her hands excitedly. “Perfect timing! Don’t forget, our group blind date’s this Friday. You have to invite him. I bet he'd totally get along with my friends. Or maybe you two can date each other and pretend it's a blind date.”

You stiffened. “Woah, slow down. Heeseung and I? That’s… we’re like family. Literally. I’ve known him since I was in diapers.”

Vicky pouted, clearly unimpressed. “That’s a shame. You guys would be stupid cute together.” You rolled your eyes, but the weird twist in your gut didn’t go away.

“And hey,” she added teasingly, voice low, “if you’re really not interested… is he fair game?” You whipped your head toward her so fast your hair slapped your shoulder.

Vicky laughed nervously, holding her hands up. “Kidding! Kidding. I know better than to go after someone you’re protective of.”

You turned back to your notes, pretending to write something. But the words blurred together.

Why did that bother you so much?

Heeseung could date whoever he wanted. You didn’t care. You shouldn’t care. And yet the thought of him sitting next to some girl on Friday made you want to scream.

It didn’t make sense.

Your fingers gripped your pen tighter.

The rest of the class passed in a haze. Vicky tossing in ideas for venues and flirty outfit suggestions while you nodded absently, stuck inside your own head.

By the time you got home, the sun was already setting, casting warm shadows on your walls.

You dropped your bag on the couch and kicked off your shoes, but something soft hit your thigh as you moved.

You reached in and pulled out the fabric.

Heeseung’s hoodie.

Of course.

You exhaled slowly, running your fingers across the soft sleeves. It still smelled like him. Laundry detergent and something warm underneath.

You didn’t want to see him. Not yet. Not when your heart still felt like it was in a blender and you didn’t know why.

But now you had an excuse to. And that irritated you more than it should.

“Whatever,” you muttered, tossing it in the laundry and pretending like that settled something.

It didn’t.

The next few days passed like molasses. Slow. Heavy. Tense.

Neither of you texted.

Neither of you reached out.

You kept telling yourself that was fine. That this wasn’t weird. That everything was totally normal.

But it wasn’t.

Every time your phone buzzed; your heart jumped. Every time it wasn’t him, it sank.

Heeseung was the same. Pretending he was busy. Pretending he wasn’t checking his phone every ten minutes. Pretending he didn’t care that the hoodie you wore while falling asleep in his arms was gone.

Denial was easier.

Until Friday rolled around. The day of the group date.

And neither of you could deny anything anymore.

The day of the group blind date crawled by, but you felt the weight of it like a countdown.

You spent the morning aimlessly cleaning, second-guessing your outfit, and chewing on your lip as you stared at your phone. Still no text. Not that you expected one. Not really.

Meanwhile, somewhere across campus, Heeseung was pretending to be busy. Doing laps around his dorm, rearranging laundry that was already folded, and slamming his fridge shut multiple times for no reason. Every task he did had one purpose: stalling.

Eventually, he couldn’t stop himself.

You heard the doorbell just as you were zipping up your boots. When you opened it, your breath hitched.

There he was, standing stiffly outside your apartment, a black tote bag dangling from one hand. He looked like he didn’t want to be there, and also like he’d explode if he didn’t show up.

“Hey,” he muttered, avoiding your eyes. “You left your clothes. From that night.”

You blinked, confused for a second, then glanced down at the bag. Your cheeks warmed. “Oh. Right.” You stepped back, your voice smaller than intended. “Thanks... wait here a sec.”

You ducked inside, grabbing his pajamas off your bed and stuffing them into the bag. When you returned, he was still standing there, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

“Thanks for lending me this too,” you mumbled, holding out the bag again.

Heeseung nodded, his jaw tight. He took it wordlessly. His fingers brushed yours. Then, after a beat too long, he said, “You look…”

He didn’t finish right away. His gaze dropped again. To the dress. The earrings. Your exposed collarbone.

“You look nice.” The words left his mouth like he hated them. “For your date, I mean.” He cleared his throat, jaw working. “Have fun or whatever.” You froze.

“Oh. Uh. Thanks.”

He shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. Like there was something else he wanted to say but didn’t know how.

“I should go,” he said, turning away. “Don’t want to make you late.”

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

He nodded and walked off, leaving you staring at the closed door, mentally cursing yourself for not saying more.

You stared at the shut door for a long moment, biting the inside of your cheek. It felt like something important had been said. And also, like nothing had.

By the time your Uber pulled up, your nerves had twisted into a tight coil behind your ribs. You tried to shake it off as you headed to the restaurant. But that all flew out the window the second you walked through the doors.

Because standing near the entrance, tray in hand, was Heeseung.

Your jaw dropped. “You? Wait. You work here?”

His eyes went wide as they landed on you, like you’d just punched him in the gut. “Y/n-? Yeah. Part-time.”

“You never told me-”

“I did,” he muttered, flushing and avoiding your gaze. “Maybe you just didn’t listen.”

You blinked, thrown off. “Since when?”

“Since-… whatever.” His voice was clipped, like he was trying too hard to act unaffected. “Needed the money. Free food. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Before you could respond, someone from the back called out: “Lee! Table 7!”

He exhaled through his nose, already turning away. “Gotta go. Enjoy your date.”

And just like that, he was gone again. Vanishing between tables, his apron swaying as he moved. You barely had time to process it when Vicky waved you over. She was already seated with another girl you knew, makeup perfect, and surrounded by three guys. One of whom slid a drink toward you as you sat down.

The night crawled forward.

Your date was… fine.

Well, there wasn’t anything wrong with him. He was cute. Tall. Had that clean-cut kind of look, the kind you’re supposed to want. The kind that makes your friends nudge you under the table and whisper “Okay, not bad.” And he was nice, in a way that felt... practiced? Like he knew exactly what to say and when to say it. Smiled on cue. Laughed when he was supposed to. Asked questions, but only the easy ones, your major, your favorite movie, if you liked dogs or cats. Surface-level stuff. Like we were speedrunning a personality quiz.

You nodded. Smiled. Even laughed a few times. But it didn’t feel like anything.

The whole time, your brain kept running in circles. You kept comparing everything he did to Heeseung, without meaning to. Without even realizing I was doing it at first.

Like when he leaned in and grinned that too-perfect smile? All you could think about was how Heeseung’s smile was kind of lopsided and usually only came out when he was genuinely amused. The real kind. The one where his nose scrunches a little and he tries to hide it behind his hand like it’s embarrassing.

Or when your date started talking about his internship and humblebragging like it was his whole personality. Meanwhile, Heeseung would rather choke than talk about himself like that. He’s so annoying about hiding how hard he works, like it’s something to be ashamed of. But at least when he says something, you know it means something.

And then there was this moment. God, it was so dumb, when your date reached across the table and tried to brush something off your sleeve, real casual. Like in the dramas. Except it didn’t feel sweet. It felt…wrong.

Because your first instinct wasn’t butterflies.

It was Heeseung would’ve made fun of me first.

He would’ve been like, “You wore that? You look like you lost a bet.” And then when you’d pout and hit his arm, he’d sneakily fix whatever it was while you were distracted. That was just how we were.

But this guy? He kept making these flirty comments toward Vicky like you weren’t sitting right there. At one point, he asked her what kind of guys she liked, while you were talking midsentence. Like, what are you? A chair?

And you just sat there, drinking your watered-down cocktail, smiling through your teeth while your insides twisted into knots.

Because the real reason you weren’t having fun?

Wasn’t the bad flirting.

Wasn’t the recycled jokes.

Wasn’t the fact that you had more chemistry with the damn napkin holder.

It was because he wasn’t Heeseung.

He didn’t get under your skin the same way. He didn’t make your heartbeat stumble just by looking in your direction. He didn’t have that stupid habit of calling you by a nickname only he could get away with. He didn’t make you want to argue just so you could hear him talk back.

He didn’t make you feel like yourself.

And maybe that was the scariest part. Sitting across from someone perfectly decent, someone that everyone else would probably think is a catch, and realizing that the only person you wanted to talk to about it... was the same person you were trying so hard not to think about.

And it sucked. Because you didn’t know what that meant.

Not really.

You just knew you were halfway through a third drink, laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, smiling at a guy who wasn’t him. And the whole time, your eyes kept drifting to where Heeseung was working across the room.

Not looking at you once.

And that’s when it hit you.

Maybe he was trying not to look too.

By the time dessert came around, you were on your fifth glass of whatever fruity cocktail they'd ordered for you. The alcohol was warm in your stomach, and your thoughts were a slow spin cycle. You laughed at your date’s joke, but it didn’t reach your eyes. It didn’t reach your heart.

Because part of you was still stuck at your front door, with Heeseung not saying what you both knew he wasn’t ready to admit.

When the night finally wound down, the group staggered toward the exit. You tried to play it cool, but your legs were shaky and your head swam.

You didn’t even notice you were stumbling until a hand grabbed your arm.

“Hey, watch it.” Heeseung’s voice, low and sharp with concern, cut through the noise like a tether. “You’re seriously drunk.”

You looked up at him, lips pouting as your balance wobbled again. “The date sucked,” you mumbled. “He was annoying.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “You were laughing. You looked fine.”

“I wasn’t.”

He cursed under his breath and guided you to a bench near the side of the restaurant. You slumped down, grateful for something solid. He knelt in front of you, one hand on your knee to steady himself. “What happened?” he asked, quieter now. “Did he do something?”

You shook your head lazily. “No, just...”  

There was a long pause, way too long like your brain and your heart were fighting against each other.

“He wasn’t you.” Ah. Now we know who won.

The words fell out before you could stop them, and the way his expression shifted for just a fraction of a second told you he didn’t expect that. But Heeseung quickly masked it, shrugging nonchalantly, like it didn’t matter.

“Right,” he muttered, almost too quickly. “Well, you’re really drunk. Don’t go saying weird stuff.” He stood up slightly, glancing at the rest of the group in the distance, then back at you.

You didn’t want to let it slide. “You’re acting different,” you mumbled, your eyes narrowing as you stared up at him, trying to focus. “You’re being... too considerate. Like I’m someone special, and I don’t like it.”

Heeseung’s eyes flickered to yours, an unreadable expression crossing his face for a moment. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay,” he said, voice quieter, a little more strained than usual. “You’re barely keeping yourself upright. What do you want me to do, huh?”

You didn’t back down. “I want you to stop being nice,” you said, your voice slurred but clear enough. “It’s confusing. You’re supposed to be a jerk.”

There was a long, tense pause, and you almost didn’t notice it, but the way his face softened for just a second made your heart skip. He stood there, his posture stiff, but his eyes were searching yours, something vulnerable flickering behind his usual mask.

“Why?” His voice was barely above a whisper, and you could tell it caught him off guard. “Why does it bother you?”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or just the raw honesty of the moment, but you decided to let the words spill before you could stop them.

“Because if you keep being nice to me like this... I might-” you murmured, the weight of the confession crashing over you as the words slipped out. “I might actually start liking you.”

The silence that followed felt almost suffocating. Heeseung froze, his expression unreadable. You felt your body sag with the realization of what you’d just said, and the alcohol finally hit you like a wave. Your vision blurred as your head dropped back against the bench, and before you could even process the weight of your own words, your body gave out.

You didn’t even hear Heeseung call your name. You just felt his hands steadying you, but everything went black.

Everything that followed was a haze.

You didn’t remember falling asleep. Didn’t remember being moved. But when your eyes blinked open, the light stung a little, and you were surrounded by something familiar, but not yours.

It took a second to realize you were in Heeseung’s bed.

You were curled up on top of his thin comforter, a lighter blanket tossed over your shoulders like an afterthought. His scent lingered faintly on the pillow beneath you. It smelled like clean laundry, hints of shampoo, and something distinctly him. The room was dim, lit only by the soft morning light peeking through slatted blinds.

Across the room, you spotted him, Heeseung, sitting at his desk, back to you, headphones on as he typed slowly on his laptop. His hair was still a mess, sticking out in places. He was wearing the same hoodie from the night before.

You shifted slightly, and that was all it took.

He immediately swiveled around in his chair. Headphones off, brows pulled together. “Hey,” he said, voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Hey, easy. Don’t sit up too fast.”

He was already kneeling by the side of the bed, one hand resting gently on your shoulder. His eyes searched your face. “How do you feel? Water and aspirin…” he reached toward his desk, grabbing a bottle and a little foil pack, “…ready to go.”

You took them, muttering a tired thank you as you sat up slowly. Your head was pounding. Everything felt weirdly fragile, like the air was too loud.

“What a mess.. why am I remembering…” you rubbed your temples, “Vicky. Telling me she’d scare off my date.”

Heeseung gave you a tight-lipped smile, carefully neutral. “She did.” You let out a weak laugh. “I didn’t do or say anything... regrettable, right?” His expression flickered. Just for a second. A crack.

“Regrettable?” he repeated quickly. “Nah, nothing like that. You were just… rambling. Typical drunk stuff.” He cleared his throat, eyes darting away. “I brought you back here ‘cause you couldn’t go home like that. And I figured, y’know… better I make sure you’re okay than leave you to die in a bush or something.”

You snorted. “Very noble of you.”

He tried to laugh, but it came out awkward, stiff. “Seriously though, I swear, nothing weird happened. You knocked out like, instantly. I made sure you didn’t choke in your sleep or whatever. That’s it.”

You nodded slowly, watching him as you sipped the water. “Nothing else?”

There was a pause. Barely a beat. He shook his head. “Nope. Nothing.” You said nothing. Just nodded again.

Because you did remember. The moment before it all faded. The way your heart pounded. The words that escaped you.

You remembered what you said to him. Clear as day.

Heeseung looked visibly relieved that you didn’t push it further. He stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. “You should probably go home though. Rest somewhere more… homey. Real food, maybe not just painkillers.”

You hesitated. Then quietly, “Can I stay? Just for a little while.” His eyes widened.

“I know I’m probably being annoying, but I just…can’t really go home like this yet.” You picked at the blanket, looking down. “Also, the date was shit...I wanna distract myself from thinking of it.” Heeseung blinked. The expression on his face shifted from surprise to something gentler.

“Yeah,” he said after a second, voice low. “Of course you can stay.”

He sat down next to you slowly, like he wasn’t sure he should. You could feel the warmth of him, even without touching.

“So,” he asked, carefully, “what happened? Was he a jerk or something?”

There was something off in his tone. A casual mask trying to cover the edge of something rawer.

You shrugged. “He was full of himself. Talked about himself the whole time. Kept flirting with Vicky right in front of me.” You glanced at him. “It was pathetic, honestly.”

Heeseung’s entire expression darkened. Jaw clenched. “Are you serious?” he muttered. “He did that in front of you?” You nodded.

“Piece of shit,” he muttered, then immediately seemed to catch himself. He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. That’s just-God, what a dumbass.”

You could feel something bubbling beneath his words. He was angry. More than just offended on your behalf. There was something personal in the way he said it.

“I didn’t even like him that much anyway,” you said under your breath.

“Oh?” he said quickly. “Then why go on the date?”

You gave him a sidelong glance. “I guess I was trying to prove something to myself. That I could move on. That I didn’t-” You bit your lip. “Never mind.” He watched you closely.

“Didn’t what?”

You shook your head, brushing it off. “Forget it.”

Heeseung opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it. He leaned back against the wall beside the bed. “If it makes you feel better,” he said, “you deserve someone way better than that loser. Someone who… actually listens. Knows you.”

You smiled faintly. “Sounds like a fantasy.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

You turned to him. “You speak from experience?”

He smiled crookedly. “Something like that.”

There was a quiet stretch. Neither of you spoke.

Then, on impulse, you asked, “Wanna grab something to eat? My treat.”

He looked at you like you just offered to buy him a yacht. “Really?”

“Yeah. You took care of me, so let me return the favor.”

He blinked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Sure. That sounds good.”

“I mean, you’ll probably complain about the food, but-”

“Oh, absolutely. You have terrible taste.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing the blanket off as you stood. “Can I shower?”

Heeseung blinked. “Shower?”

“Yeah. You’ve got clean towels, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Cabinet under the sink.” He was already standing up, rummaging through a drawer.

“Here. Take this.” He held out a folded t-shirt and a pair of his joggers. “These should fit, I think.” You took them, holding back a grin. “Thanks, mom.”

He flushed, then made a face. “Just don’t use all my conditioner. That shit’s expensive.”

You ducked into the bathroom, the sound of running water quickly masking the sound of your laugh.

Left alone, Heeseung flopped onto his bed, covering his face with his arm. “What the fuck,” he muttered.

Everything about you lately was driving him insane.

Ten minutes later, you emerged, towel-drying your hair and wearing his clothes. The t-shirt was soft, worn-in, and smelled like him. The joggers sat comfortably low on your hips.

“Feel better?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

You nodded. “Surprisingly, yeah.”

He grabbed his keys. “Let’s go, then.”

You walked side by side. Close. Too close, maybe. His hand brushed against yours a few times, just barely.

“Watch it,” you muttered after the third time.

“Not my fault,” he said, not looking at you. “You keep drifting.”

You narrowed your eyes at the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

When you reached the restaurant, he pulled open the door. “Go,” he said, flicking his chin. “Before you embarrass yourself trying to yank this open.”

“Wow,” you scoffed. “Chivalry’s dead.”

Inside the little restaurant, it was quiet. Just the low hum of a fan overhead and the occasional clink of cutlery from the kitchen. You slid into a booth by the window, the vinyl seat cool against your skin. Heeseung sat across from you, stretching his legs under the table with a soft groan.

He picked up the laminated menu and scanned it half-heartedly. “This place is always weirdly cold.”

You shrugged, fingers idly tracing the edge of your water glass. “Better than it being stuffy. I can’t think when it’s hot.”

“You can’t think when you’re cold either,” he pointed out, flipping the menu upside down like the food choices might change.

You smirked. “I can’t think around you, period.” He looked up. Blinked.

You hadn’t meant to say that.

“I mean-when you’re being annoying,” you added quickly, eyes dropping to the menu like it had suddenly become the most important thing in the world. “You’re distracting.”

“Uh-huh,” he said slowly, voice teasing. “Nice save.”

You made a face at him. He just chuckled and leaned back, watching you with that unreadable expression again. Half amused, half something else.

A waitress came by, took your orders, then disappeared just as quickly.

For a while, neither of you said much. You busied yourself with your straw wrapper, folding it into tight little knots. He watched your hands. Then the window. Then you again.

Finally, he asked, “So. Last night.”

You didn’t look up. “What about it?”

He shrugged. “I guess I just… didn’t expect it to bother me as much as it did.” That made you glance at him.

“I thought you weren’t paying attention?” you said carefully.

He let out a short breath. “Yeah. That was… not my finest moment.”

You leaned forward slightly. “Why though?”

Heeseung opened his mouth, then shut it again. Ran a hand through his hair.

“It was just… weird. Seeing you with someone else. Even if it was just a date.”

You tilted your head. “Weird how?”

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers drummed softly against the table.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I guess I thought I’d be fine. Like, of course you’re gonna date. That’s normal. But then I saw you standing there with him, and I just-” He exhaled sharply. “It was weird as hell.”

Your throat felt tight. “Heeseung…”

He shook his head, like he regretted saying anything at all. “I’m not trying to make this about me. I just… I care. Okay? Maybe more than I should.” That landed heavier than you expected.

You looked down again. At your straw wrapper. At the water beading on your glass.

“I didn’t like being there,” you admitted, voice low. “The whole thing felt off from the start. Like I was pretending.”

He looked up at that.

“Pretending what?”

“That I wanted to be there. That I didn’t already…” You hesitated. The words felt too big all of a sudden. Too close to something you weren’t sure either of you were ready to say.

“Already what?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

You gave him a small, careful smile. “Already know what I want.”

He stared at you for a moment. Then nodded slowly, like he understood just enough.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

The silence between you wasn’t heavy anymore.

The food arrived, and the moment passed. You both shifted back to easier conversation. Complaining about portion sizes, laughing at how they overcooked his egg, making jabs about your weird sauce preferences.

No one said it, but you both felt it.

It wasn’t a confession. Not exactly.

After the plates were cleared and the bill had been paid, you both just sat there nursing the last of your drinks, your fingers lazily stirring the melting ice around with your straw. Neither of you seemed in a rush to leave.

Heeseung glanced out the window, squinting slightly at the soft morning light filtering in. “It’s still early,” he said, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn that made his voice raspy. “Wanna walk around? There’s that park nearby… you know, the one with the stupidly big ducks.”

You snorted. “The ones that hiss at people?”

“Yeah. You like danger, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were already grabbing your bag. “Fine. But if I get chased, I’m sacrificing you.”

“Fair enough,” he said, grinning as he held the door open for you. The morning breeze was crisp, brushing past your cheeks and ruffling his hair a little. He didn’t bother fixing it.

The walk wasn’t far. It was one of those sleepy neighborhood parks. Just a few worn benches, an old slide, some trees that were finally blooming again. You found an empty bench in the shade and plopped down with a sigh; your legs grateful for the break. Heeseung sat beside you, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

For a while, there wasn’t much said. Just the sound of wind rustling through the leaves, the occasional squawk of an aggressive duck, and the distant bark of someone’s dog.

Then, without warning, you glanced sideways and asked, “Anyways, why did you lie when you said you told me about your part-time job?”

Heeseung blinked like you’d thrown cold water on him.

He looked at you, a little startled. “Huh?”

“You told me you already mentioned it,” you said, leaning back against the bench, casual but still watching him. “But I swear you didn’t.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, fidgeting with a napkin he'd absently tucked into his pocket.

“It’s just a part-time job, you know? Nothing special.” You didn’t say anything, waiting.

He sighed, letting his hands fall to his lap. “To be honest, I was kinda embarrassed about it. Figured you'd make fun of me for working at some random diner.”

You raised a brow. “Why would I make fun of you for that?”

He chuckled dryly. “I dunno. I guess I thought you’d see it and think I peaked in high school or something.” He finally met your gaze, sheepish. “Guess I should’ve known better. Since when do you judge people based on stuff like that?”

You cracked a grin. “Well, I’d definitely make fun of how you look while working. But not where or why.”

That made him laugh, really laugh, and you caught a glimpse of his canines when he smiled, the way his eyes crinkled when he wasn’t trying to hide it.

Then, maybe a little too comfortable, you added, “You looked good in that uniform though.” Your mouth shut a second too late.

Heeseung blinked. His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, and he ducked his head, hiding the blush blooming across his cheeks.

“Oh yeah?” he said, trying for cool but fumbling it. “You... noticed?”

You cleared your throat, willing your face not to burn. “Just saying. It suited you.”

“I thought I looked stupid in it,” he muttered, scratching at his jaw. “Like... cartoon diner boy vibes.”

“You always look stupid,” you said, trying to mask the compliment. “But, like, stupidly good in that uniform. Somehow.”

He turned to you fully now, a full grin spreading across his face. “Stupidly good, huh?” he echoed, nudging your shoulder with his. “I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered.” “Go with flattered,” you muttered.

He laughed softly. “I will then. Coming from you, that’s high praise.”

Then he tilted his head, suddenly thoughtful. “Hey, remember that bet we made in middle school? That if neither of us found anyone by thirty, we’d just marry each other?”

You rolled your eyes. “Jesus, I didn’t think you still remembered that.”

“Of course I do,” he said through a mouthful of whatever snack he’d bought from the park’s sad vending machine. “How could I forget such a ridiculous deal?”

He leaned in a little, his voice playful but low. “Plus, it gives me ten years to write a killer speech for stealing you away. Gotta make it memorable.”

“Ew.” You groaned, half-laughing, half-wanting to throw him off the bench. “You’re so cheesy. Stop! You of all people actually being okay with that is insane.”

Heeseung held up both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll tone it down.” But the smile didn’t leave his face.

Then his voice dipped, not teasing now. Softer. “But seriously. You’d rather end up with some stranger over someone who already knows you? Someone who’s been there... through everything?”

You looked at him, quiet.

He didn’t push. Just kept talking, like he was thinking out loud.

“Not saying I’d actually do it. But… it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, right? Settling down with someone who already knows all your weird habits and still wants to sit on a park bench with you after diner shifts and awkward first dates?”

The question lingered between you, neither rhetorical nor rushed. It hung in the silence like a soft, open-ended maybe.

You didn’t answer right away. Because honestly, you didn’t know how to.

Instead, you just reached out and flicked the corner of the vending machine snack in his hand.

“I only agree if I get to write your vows.”

He blinked. Then his grin returned, brighter than the morning sun overhead.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said, voice warm.

You leaned back, letting your shoulders relax against the bench, watching a pair of ducks waddle toward a group of toddlers.

Heeseung was still beside you, just close enough that your knees bumped occasionally. Not a big moment. Nothing dramatic.

But it felt like everything wasn’t quite the same anymore.

So why are you letting it?

The next few days passed normally, with a tinge of peculiarity. You and Heeseung still bickered, still teased and jabbed at each other, but the edge was gone. Things had softened. Like the air had changed after a storm but neither of you wanted to talk about the lightning that had struck.

He'd text you late at night, just a meme or a weird video. You'd answer immediately, even if you were halfway through brushing your teeth. Sometimes he'd swing by the dental building just to walk you to the bus stop. You pretended not to notice the way your heart started doing gymnastics in your chest whenever he leaned a little too close or smiled a little too long.

Nothing had really changed. Except that everything had.

You didn’t dare bring up what he’d said at the breakfast place. The whole "settling down with your best friend" thing. You weren’t sure if he was serious. Heeseung had always joked like that. Always known how to toe the line. But lately, it felt like the line was erasing itself. You didn’t want to risk crossing it too soon.

And then suddenly, it was just a month before the university’s Interdisciplinary Festival. You could feel it in the shift of the campus vibe. Flyers everywhere, group chats buzzing, department chairs acting more high-strung than usual. You weren’t directly involved. Dentistry didn't usually have flashy showcases. Your part was more behind the scenes, coordinating with allied health orgs, preparing booths, boring but practical stuff.

But Performance Arts? That department lived for this. And Heeseung, being a third-year in Movement and Expression, had one of the biggest showcases lined up.

You only heard about it by accident.

You were on the library steps with your friend Hyejin, eating ice cream like it wasn’t ten in the morning. She was scrolling through her phone, showing you some video of someone absolutely bombing their tap dance final, when she went, "Oh my god, wait. You know Heeseung’s partnered with Yeri, right?"

You blinked. "Partnered for what?"

Hyejin tilted her head like it was obvious. "The interdisciplinary showcase. Their final’s a partner performance piece. Live. Like, full-blown duet. Probably something emotional and contemporary."

You laughed, even though your fingers tightened slightly around your spoon. "Sounds dramatic."

She shrugged. "Kinda hot, though. I mean, those two together? They’re gonna look insane on stage. Everyone’s already talking about it. People are betting on whether they’re gonna kiss in the final scene."

Your laugh this time came out too sharp. "Betting? Seriously?"

"It’s the Performance Arts kids. They make everything theatrical. But yeah, it’s all over the department forums. Some freshman even made a Yeri x Heeseung hashtag. It’s gross."

You scoffed, trying to play it off. "Heeseung’s probably dying of embarrassment. He hates that kind of attention."

But your stomach was sinking. Not because of Yeri, not exactly. Yeri was nice. Really fucking nice. And she and Heeseung made sense on paper. Both were tall, talented, and conventionally attractive. They moved in the same artistic circles. They shared a language you’d never really spoken. The idea of them being shipped together wasn’t surprising. It was reasonable.

And maybe that’s what made it worse.

You didn’t say anything to Heeseung at first. Not when he texted you a blurry selfie of himself trying on a costume for rehearsal. Not when he showed up at your library table the next day with a mango smoothie like he always did.

But you noticed the changes. Subtle things. He was always tired now. Rehearsals were eating up his evenings. He’d started humming unfamiliar melodies under his breath. And once, just once, you caught the faint scent of Yeri’s perfume clinging to his hoodie when he leaned over to help you fix your cracked phone screen.

You didn’t even flinch. You just smiled and handed him the new glass. Like always.

Until the cracks finally showed.

It was Friday evening. You’d both ended up on campus late—him from rehearsal, you from a late lab session. He found you sitting by the vending machines, legs curled up on the bench, eyes glued to your notes.

"You look like you haven’t blinked in an hour," he said, tossing you a small snack pack.

"You look like you got hit by a lighting rig," you shot back, eyeing his sweat-soaked hair.

He grinned. But it was tired. Too tired.

You both sat in silence for a moment, the kind that used to feel comforting. Tonight, it felt like holding your breath.

You nudged his knee. "So. The duet."

He stiffened slightly. Not a flinch, but close.

"Ah. That." He leaned back, resting his head against the wall. "You heard, huh?"

You nodded, keeping your tone light. "Whole school has, apparently. You two trending yet?"

He groaned. "Don’t even. Some sophomore tried to interview us for the school paper. I told them to interview my foot instead."

You snorted. "Nice."

Heeseung scratched at his temple. "It’s not that serious, y’know. Just an assignment. Yeri’s chill. She’s focused. No drama."

You stared at him. "You don’t think it’s a big deal?"

He looked at you then, really looked. And for a moment, the easy smile slipped.

"I didn’t say that," he said quietly. "Just... I didn’t ask for her. We were paired. It’s not like I had a choice."

You tried not to react. "Right. Makes sense."

Heeseung’s eyes narrowed a little, studying your expression. "Why? Does it bother you?"

You shrugged. "Why would it? It’s your class. You’re doing what you have to do."

There was a pause. Something taut stretched between you, neither of you daring to pull too hard.

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he watched you fidget with your notebook. "But it’s bothering you, right?"

You didn’t look up, focusing on the paper in front of you. "I didn’t say that."

He raised an eyebrow. "No, you didn’t. But you’re kind of wearing it on your face."

You huffed, flipping a page in your notebook, trying to avoid the growing tension. "I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it."

Heeseung chuckled softly, but there was a quiet seriousness behind it. "I’m not making a big deal. You are."

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t give in. "I’m not. Just-" You paused, scratching your pen over the paper more harshly than you intended. "It’s just different, okay? I’m used to having you around, not just in passing. And now… it’s like you’re always somewhere else, in some other world. I don’t know, maybe I forgot what that feels like."

There was a long silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just a bit too quiet. Heeseung adjusted in his seat, clearly thinking about what you said. You could feel him looking at you, but you kept your gaze fixed downward, pretending like it didn’t bother you.

Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but with a hint of something almost... understanding. "That’s the problem, isn’t it? You’ve been so used to me being around all the time that now it feels weird."

You stiffened, feeling a flicker of irritation. "I’m not saying it’s a problem."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You’re not the best at explaining things, you know that?"

"Well, maybe if you didn’t make everything feel like a thing, it’d be easier to explain."

There was another wave of silence, but this time, it didn’t feel quite as tense. Heeseung shifted again, this time reaching over to poke your arm lightly. "Alright, alright. I get it. You miss me or whatever."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "I don’t miss you, I just-" You stopped yourself before you could say more, mentally cursing your own brain for letting that slip.

"Yeah, sure," Heeseung said, his voice now teasing but still light. "I know you’re just totally fine without me around."

You gave him a look, not bothering to respond. The familiar bickering felt oddly comforting, even if it didn’t solve anything. You could almost pretend like things weren’t shifting, that nothing had changed.

Heeseung leaned a little closer, his voice quieter this time, not quite teasing but not completely serious either. "You know, I’m still here, right? Even if I’m not always right in front of you."

You glanced at him, but your gaze faltered quickly. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of those words, even though they weren’t as heavy as they could have been. "Yeah, I know. You just keep disappearing into your little world for hours."

Heeseung smirked, nudging your arm with his shoulder. "I come back. I always do."

You looked up at him, your expression softening, but you didn’t say anything. For a moment, it felt like there was more between the two of you than you wanted to admit.

Heeseung smiled, the kind of smile that made you want to laugh and roll your eyes at the same time. "Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me."

The university’s interdisciplinary festival was the kind of event that had a little bit of everything: booths on oral health from the Dentistry department, sports exhibitions, and the inevitable Performance Arts showcases that would steal the spotlight, as they always did. Naturally, since the festival spanned multiple departments, each one had its role to play. It was a chaotic, messy combination of everything, but somehow, everything still managed to fall into place. Though not without a bit of stress.

Vicky, your very unfortunately good friend, was the one who dragged you into it.

“You’ve got to come help with the festival, please! I’m begging you!” Vicky had said that day, eyes wide with that slightly manic enthusiasm that usually meant trouble.

You’d wanted to refuse, but you owed her. Big time. You couldn’t exactly back out, not when she’d held a dirty little secret over your head for months. And there was the fact that she’d somehow convinced you to help her out when you’d lost a bet a while ago. This was your punishment, you guessed, helping her run around doing menial tasks for the festival. You sighed dramatically as you agreed, your inner voice grumbling about the mess you were about to step into.

“I’m only doing this because I owe you, Vicky,” you muttered, throwing on your jacket as you followed her to the sign-up table.

“I knew you’d come through,” she grinned widely, practically bouncing on her toes. You shook your head but didn’t argue.

Vicky was good at that, making you feel guilty enough to help her out without ever truly demanding it.

And so, you found yourself getting swept up into the logistics of the festival, running around with other volunteers from different departments. And as fate would have it, you ended up working directly with Yeri.

The thing about Yeri was… she was easy to like. At least, that’s how she came across. She was friendly. Polite. A little too nice at times, in a way that made you feel like she was always trying to read something between the lines. You didn’t know her well. But everyone else seemed to think she was this pure, sweet angel.

It was hard to deny, though, that something about her rubbed you the wrong way now. Maybe it was the way she smiled a little too brightly at you, or the way her eyes lingered on Heeseung just a little too long whenever he was nearby. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. At least, you didn’t want to think it was. But there was something unsettling about the ease with which she seemed to glide through everything, untouched and perfect.

And when you saw her, right there in the middle of it all, managing rehearsal coordination for the Performance Arts group, your stomach twisted in knots.

Her smile was so… practiced as she greeted you. Almost too perfect. She was standing by the entrance of the rehearsal room, clipboard in hand as people filtered in. She waved at you when she saw you approach with Vicky, and then stepped forward, offering a cool bottle of water in a way that felt both casual and deliberate.

“Here,” she said, holding it out to you with a small smile. “It’s gonna be a long day. Stay hydrated.”

You took the bottle from her without a word, fighting the urge to scowl. Vicky, ever the optimist, nudged you with a grin before speaking up.

“I’m gonna grab a coffee. You two go ahead and start getting familiar with the space. You’ll be fine, right?”

You barely had time to answer before Vicky disappeared, leaving you with her.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, avoiding Yeri’s gaze. You were about to turn away, but then her voice stopped you, and you froze.

“So,” she said, her voice light but her gaze sharp. “Are you and Heeseung… dating, or...?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to fight not to let it show. Your chest tightened, and you almost laughed to cover it up.

“No,” you said, as casually as possible, trying to shrug it off. “We’ve known each other forever.” You wanted to move past this. But Yeri wasn’t letting you off that easily.

“Oh.” Her eyes were deceptively innocent as she tilted her head, her smile soft but there was something unsettling about it. “So, you’re like… family, then?” And just like that, your stomach dropped.

Family. That word. The word that made it sound like nothing between you and Heeseung would ever be more than just what you already were. Not that you even wanted it to be more, right? At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself as you awkwardly fumbled for a response.

You forced a smile, a tight thing that never quite reached your eyes. “Yeah, I guess. That’s one way to put it.”

Yeri didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she just didn’t care. She smiled again, a little too warmly, and nodded as if that answer had satisfied her.

“Family, huh?” She repeated, almost to herself, her eyes narrowing slightly, studying you for a moment longer than necessary.

You didn’t know why, but her words hit you like a punch in the gut. Something about them felt too sharp. Too intentional. It was like she was probing for something, trying to understand exactly how far the relationship between you and Heeseung went. You didn’t want to play her game, but she wasn’t going to let you off easy.

“Right.” You swallowed and finally gave in, looking at her for a second before glancing away.

“Well, we’re not really… family, I guess. Just… friends.”

Her smile flickered, a glint of something unreadable flashing in her eyes. She nodded again, still too perfect, too calm.

“Right. Just friends.”

The tension lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. You tried to shake it off, but it clung to you, following you around like a shadow. You didn’t want to think about what Yeri’s words meant. Didn’t want to think about the fact that, in the back of your mind, they made you feel…small.

Before you could say anything else, someone shouted from across the room, calling for Yeri’s attention. She glanced back at you, giving you one final, soft smile.

“I’ll be around if you need anything,” she said, and with that, she turned away, leaving you standing there, feeling a little more unsettled than you had a moment ago.

You wanted to be mad. You wanted to be angry at the way she’d managed to make you feel like you were something less than you were. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to get upset. Not when you felt…stupid.

And maybe it was because of her. Or maybe it was because of the way your heart had stuttered when she’d asked about you and Heeseung. But either way, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was starting to change… again.

And it wasn’t just with her. It was with Heeseung, too.

For the next few days, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way Yeri’s smile had never quite reached her eyes. The way her words seemed so carefully chosen, like she was testing you, seeing how you’d react. You weren’t sure what her angle was, but you knew it was something more than just curiosity.

And Heeseung? He wasn’t making it any easier. You didn’t know if it was the festival getting to you, or the fact that Yeri was always around, her presence like a quiet storm brewing in the background. But you couldn’t escape the feeling that the space between you and Heeseung was widening.

It had always been this easy with him. But now? Now, everything felt...complicated.

It had been a few days since that weird conversation with Yeri. Since that almost-smile you gave her. Since her words, “So you’re like… family?” had been playing on repeat in your head like some cruel inside joke you didn’t know you’d signed up for.

You told yourself you were over it. Told yourself you were being dramatic. But the thing is, once a thought plants itself like that, it doesn’t go away. It twists. It grows teeth. It appears like a teratoma you saw in ‘Grey’s Anatomy.’

The thing about trying to shake something off is that it never really works when you're already spiraling. And after that whole almost-cordial conversation with Yeri a few days ago, the drink offering, the “you’re like family?” line, the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, it had been hard not to spiral. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. That it didn’t mean anything. People asked offhand questions all the time. Yeri didn’t know better.

But you weren’t stupid. You knew a loaded question when you heard one.

Still, you’d managed to push it down. Not away, just barely under the surface, like stuffing a drawer that wouldn’t quite close. You buried yourself in classwork, in shift hours, in helping Vicky plan her chaos of a booth for the Interdisciplinary Festival. She’d somehow roped you into printing tarpaulin designs and labeling props for a dental hygiene game that involved questionable puppet mascots and glitter glue.

And maybe it was easier to be annoyed at Vicky than to sit still long enough to think about how things felt different lately.

Heeseung hadn’t been avoiding you, no. If anything, he was still... around. Still showing up outside your building with a coffee when you didn’t ask, still bumping his knee against yours under the table during lunch, still sending reels at 2am with a “this is you when you’re hungry” caption.

But something had shifted.

Maybe it was you.

Or maybe it was that you noticed the shift more now that Yeri had stepped out of the periphery and into your shared spaces.

It was a late Thursday afternoon when it happened. The hallway leading to the studio wing was mostly quiet, the usual buzz of activity softened by the fact that most departments were busy prepping their respective booths or showcases. You were carrying a stack of laminated activity cards, something Vicky insisted were “vital to audience engagement,” and cutting through the Performance Arts floor because it was a faster route back to your booth.

You didn’t mean to look.

Really, you didn’t.

You only turned your head because you heard music playing from the open studio door. It was something soft and rhythmic, a piano loop that sounded vaguely familiar. You would’ve kept walking if not for the glimpse of movement in your peripheral vision. A flash of grey sweatpants.

A foot pivoting. The sound of a quiet laugh.

And there they were.

Heeseung and Yeri.

In the center of the studio, mid-run-through. You could tell from their breathing that they were nearing the end. Their movements were fluid, he reached for her wrist, spun her in close, and her hand landed on his shoulder like muscle memory. The music faded into its final notes. She stumbled slightly, and he caught her by the waist without missing a beat.

And then, still holding her, he laughed.

It wasn’t flirtatious. It wasn’t intimate in the way people always imagined.

But it was close.

His forehead brushed hers as he chuckled, and she grinned back, flushed from movement, her hand still resting against his chest.

And just like that, the drawer inside you burst open.

You didn’t wait for the rest of the moment. You didn’t give it the grace of an ending. You turned before they could see you, before Heeseung could glance over and realize you’d been standing there like some pathetic cliché in a drama rerun.

The laminated cards dug into your fingers as you walked faster, then faster still, until the hallway blurred and your breath caught unevenly in your throat.

You knew it wasn’t a big deal. Knew that this was rehearsal. Knew that Heeseung didn’t look at Yeri the way he looked at you when you were both cracking jokes in line for ramen, or when you were arguing over toothpaste flavors at the convenience store.

But knowing didn’t mean anything when your brain kept replaying that image. His hands on her waist, their laughter floating in sync, the ease of it all.

And the worst part?

The worst part was how normal it all looked.

How good they looked together.

You don’t remember walking down the stairs.

Your legs must’ve carried you out of the performance wing on autopilot, but your brain was stuck on loop, replaying the scene you weren’t supposed to see. The way he held her. The stupid laugh. That split second of closeness. You kept telling yourself it wasn’t even romantic, and yet here you were, nearly tripping over your own feet on the way back to the volunteer booth because your chest felt tight and hollow at the same time.

By the time you made it to the central quad, the heat in your ears had barely faded. Students were scattered across folding tables, tape guns snapping open, boxes getting unpacked.

Someone was blasting a speaker near the MedTech stall. It was all just noise.

You spotted Vicky instantly, perched like a gremlin on top of a chair, one leg folded under her as she furiously labeled laminated tags. Her drink was half-spilled next to a tangle of string lights. Typical.

You dropped the flyers in front of her with a little too much force.

Vicky flinched. “Damn. You tryna give me a paper cut to the throat or something?” You didn’t answer.

She peered at you, head tilted. “You good?” Still nothing.

Vicky blinked. “Okay, mood.”

You sat down wordlessly across from her, staring blankly at the label sheet.

After a beat, she gave you a look. “...You passed by the rehearsal studio, didn’t you?” That snapped your head up.

Your silence was enough of a confession.

Vicky hissed through her teeth. “I told you not to take the back hallway. Didn’t I literally say not to risk it today?”

“I wasn’t trying to spy,” you said stiffly. “It was just the fastest way. I wasn’t expecting-”

“Well, yeah. No one expects to get punched in the gut by destiny.”

You frowned. “This isn’t some drama.”

“Isn’t it?” she countered, flicking a label onto a folder. “Because I’m pretty sure that looked a hell of a lot like the third-act misunderstanding in Twilight. You’re Bella. Yeri’s the romantic rival. Heeseung’s the-”

“Don’t,” you warned. “Do not call him Edward.”

Vicky shrugged, deadpan. “I was gonna say Jacob, actually. But tomato, tomato.”

You shot her a glare, but your heart wasn’t in it. Your stomach was still twisted up, your chest still humming with that awful buzzing feeling. Like jealousy, but meaner. Heavier.

She studied you for a moment before softening, her voice dipping lower. “Look, I get it. I know it sucks. And I know you’re not gonna say it out loud, but you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re jealous, then.”

“I’m not-” You bit off the rest, jaw tight. “I’m not anything.”

Vicky gave you the most annoying knowing smile. “Sure. Which is why you’re out here nearly cracking a hole in my table.”

You folded your arms, but the motion felt defensive even to you.

She pressed. “Be real, though. Are you actually upset about the duet? Or about the fact that it looked... comfortable?” That landed.

You exhaled sharply and looked away. “It wasn’t even romantic.”

“But it could’ve been. If you didn’t know better.” Vicky leaned back in her chair. “That’s what stings the most, huh?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

She watched you for a second, then leaned forward, voice softer now. “Look. I know it’s easier to pretend it’s nothing. But I also know you. And you don’t look at people like that unless it means something.”

You swallowed hard.

“Even if you can’t say it,” she added gently, “you feel it. That’s enough to make this kind of thing hurt.”

You stared down at the table. A breeze lifted one of the corner tags and fluttered it against your arm.

“I told myself I didn’t care,” you murmured. “Everyone knows they’re partnered. I thought I was fine. I was fine.”

“And then you saw it.”

You nodded, slowly. “He laughed.”

Vicky raised a brow. “And that’s the crime?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s just… he laughed like it was easy. Like she belonged there. In his arms. I’ve seen him do duets before, but this...” You trailed off. Your throat felt tight.

“She’s good at what she does,” Vicky said, not unkindly. “And she’s not stupid. She knows exactly how she comes off.”

“I know.”

“She probably knows you’re watching, too.” You blinked at her.

“C’mon,” Vicky said, scoffing. “Yeri’s not dumb. She asked if you and Heeseung were dating in the most suspiciously casual way imaginable. You think she wasn’t testing the waters?”

You clenched your jaw, that old bitterness creeping back in. “She said we were like family.”

“Oh, ouch.”

“Yeah.”

Vicky sighed, sliding her drink over to you. “You want me to ‘accidentally’ trip and spill glitter on her head?”

You cracked a laugh. It was weak. Shaky. But real.

“I’m serious,” she said, straight-faced. “I’ll ruin her whole aesthetic. It’ll be glitterpocalypse.” “I appreciate the offer,” you mumbled.

A long silence stretched between you, filled only by the sounds of other students setting up around you, the distant hum of another speaker kicking on.

And then Vicky said, softer, “You’re allowed to feel things, you know. Even if you’re not dating him. Even if no one said anything out loud yet.”

You blinked fast. The backs of your eyes were starting to sting.

“But what if I’m just... reading too much into it?” you asked, voice quiet. “What if I’m the only one who thinks we’re… whatever we are?”

“You’re not,” Vicky said firmly. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s not just you.”

You stared at the tabletop, her words echoing in your chest like they wanted to stick but didn’t know where to land.

“Just don’t let this one moment undo everything you’ve built with him,” she added, nudging your hand. “You guys have history. Depth. That beats any choreography any day.” You nodded slowly, even though the ache hadn’t left. Not really.

But for now, you stayed.

You let Vicky drag you into more prep work, into stringing lights and faking jokes, into the chaos of your friendship, even while the image of Heeseung and Yeri refused to leave the back of your mind.

Even while the burn lingered.

Even while the question, the one you never said out loud, twisted deeper inside you:

If you were really his person...

Then why did it feel like he was learning to smile in someone else's direction?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

fine line ── l. hs (teaser!)

update: this fic's been posted! click here to read <3

↳ summary ── heesung's got two problems: (1) he can't sleep, and (2) he's addicted to the 1AM combo of instant ramyeon and coffee milk from his favorite convenience store around the corner. the only thing more consistent than his insomnia? his nightly visits for his beloved snacks (and maybe to glare at the new night shift employee, too). & pstt, spoiler alert: you're the said new night shift employee. and you don't know what's worse: his weird food choices or his apparent superiority complex. either way, if you have to watch him inhale another bowl like it's his last meal ever, you might lose it. but hey, you know what they say—there’s a fine line between love and hate...

↳ pairing ── heeseung x f!reader

↳ genre ── idol!heeseung, e2l!au, strangers to lovers!au || crack, fluff, teensy bit of angst because a certain someone doesn't know how to communicate their feelings...

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── haii everyone it's been a long time coming...i've been having a MAJOR writer's block and also just kinda taking a break because work has been more tiring on my body so i've just been exhausted recently so i apologize for the lack of content,,,but WE'RE BACK! if anyone's ever watched backstreet rookie (it's my comfort show i love kim yoo-jung), i'm kinda going for those romcom vibes here hehe. this sneak peek isn't as revealing as my others,,,it's quite short but this one is gonna be a lil more rom-com mixed with eventual angst because what is heeseung if not a yearner?

send me an ask/comment if you'd like to be tagged !!! <3 (current tag list at end of post :D )

snippet under the cut!!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

“So…do you actually enjoy these together, or are you just trying to destroy your stomach lining?” 

He freezes. Great, you’re talking. So much for a perfect night. 

He adjusts his cap to peer at you and the same unimpressed, judgemental look sitting on your face as you lean against the counter behind you. “What’s wrong with my choices?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up, “What right with them? This combo screams, ‘I have unresolved issues I’m trying to boil away with spice and sugar.’” 

Okay, ouch. 

Heeseung narrows his eyes, trying to ignore the weird pinch in his chest at how quickly you read him, whether he likes to admit it or not. 

“I like them. That’s all that matters,” his voice drips with a certain sharpness, hoping the edge in his tone is enough to make you back off. 

You, however, seem entirely unfazed.

“Just trying to help—” you shrug as you scan his items, “looking out for your poor taste buds.” 

For a moment, Heeseung considers firing back, but then his gaze catches yours for a millisecond too long as you take his cash and, immediately, he’s wondering—for the hundredth time—if you know. 

Do you recognize him? 

The thought has been gnawing at him since the first time he stepped into this store and saw you sitting there five days ago. Sure, he’s got his identity pretty much concealed under his borderline clinically insane hat-mask-hoodie combo, but still—most people at least give him a double take, a lingering glance. Something. 

But you? Nothing. No flash of recognition. No curiosity. Nothing to indicate you know you’re talking to Lee Heeseung—part idol, part insomniac, 100% ramen enthusiast. 

And for some reason, that both annoys and intrigues him. 

“Thanks for your concern,” Heeseung mumbles dryly, quickly grabbing the ramen cup and cold drink from your hands. 

“No problem,” you chirp just as sarcastically, an annoying smile on your face. “Enjoy your…uh, gourmet meal.”

Heeseung throws you one last glare before shaking his head and stalking off to the self-serve station. He puts the cup down on the counter with a little more force than necessary and pours boiling water over the noodles, glaring into the steam as your voice rings in his head. 

What’s wrong with ramen and coffee milk? He scowls. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I definitely don’t have unresolved issues. 

But as he steals a glance back at the check-out counter and catches you sorting bills like nothing happened, a weird unease settles in his chest. 

He looks down at this ramen, then at the coffee milk. 

For the first time ever, he feels…self-conscious. 

And now you’re in his head. 

Great. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

this made me crave ramen.

let me know if you'd like to be tagged :)

<3, addie

current tag list: [bolded couldn't be tagged, sorry :( ]

@xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaaah @heejamas @jiyeons-closet @sagegreenhairclip @betda @ineedsomezzz @motherscrustytoenailclippings @bussolares @soobnuuy @deluluscenarios @chrrific @vvenusoncasual @rairaiblog @mwahvvis @lveegsoi @desssss-0 @hoonkishoe @sunhyeswife @ilovbeshotaro @dearestdreamies @starry-eyed-bimbo @planetmarlowe @lovialy @ambi01 @elairah @therealmrsbahng @lov4hoon @hollxe1 @lovenha7 @ilovhoonie @coqhee @i03jae @letwiiparkjay @manuosorioh @mintysunoo @amiraazzz @renaishun @enhadd @ikeulove @starniras @heartheejake @zaycie

[trivia-yandere]

does milf oc ever get jealous at the thought of jungkook possibly having girls after him at college…? 🤭

well let us see

m.i.l.f (4)

you visit the dorm rooms one evening to restock your sons necessities expecting for him and his roommate to be out; yet you aren't so lucky.

word count: 4.178

warning: age difference, milf reader, smut, dirty talk, humping, nipple sucking, jungkook is a yearner, milf reader is also whipped, impregnation/breeding kink, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, possessive sex,

part 1 | two | three

You sigh once you slam your car door shut and proceed to lock it. You’ve managed to hold six bags as you walk up the concrete stairs to the dorm rooms. You weren’t expecting to get a message from Dash stating that he needed more snacks and drinks for his dorm, stating that he and Jungkook had gone through them all.

Truthfully, it was all your sons doing as he was known to snack more than Jungkook, but you were his mother. You had gotten everything he asked for and then some and now here you were. 

The dorm room hallways were dimly lit and quiet. During the weekend it was like a ghost town and it allowed you to come in freely just like this without having to sign in. You hoped when you walked in there you wouldn’t come to a complete mess. Jungkook was a naturally organized person and you’re positive being with Dash had to be annoying.

Jungkook.

Your mind travels to the last time you saw him was at dinner and that was nearing a week ago. You had basically kicked him from your home to go to a party and he had not made an attempt to speak with you. You aren’t sure if this was the end for you and him - and if it was, then you should be glad.

Right?

You would be lying if you said Jungkook wasn’t the best fuck you had in years. You had several one night stands, sure, but that wasn’t exciting. You’ve dated men throughout your time, but that also didn’t lead anywhere as Dash always came first and they didn’t like that.

Jungkook was far more attentive than anyone you’ve ever met. Him pleasuring you was something he actually enjoyed doing - as if it brought him his own pleasure. He had more stamina than any man you’ve had before and it didn’t help that he was insanely attractive.

Even Dash’s father didn’t last - obviously. You getting pregnant was an act of two horny teenagers and all the responsibility was left on you. While he went on to go to college, you had to stay behind and work and raise Dash while his parents paid you on his behalf. He visited only when he was on break, and when he graduated college and got into his respected career, being a father was the last thing on his mind.

Maybe you couldn’t blame him much - but then again you could. It was around that time of  year for him to visit  and pretend he cared about his child.

You reach Dash’s door and sigh. Dash told you that he and Jungkook were at another party and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. But maybe it was childish to feel any type of way - Jungkook wasn’t yours to be territorial of. He was nothing but a good fuck that so happened to be your sons friend. You were growing far too comfortable with having him pleasure you that in the end, he could be doing this to someone else.

You open the door to the dorm room and close it behind you. The lights are off, but the led lights surrounding the walls are on and suspiciously, they’re red. Your eyes squint into the bedroom and you let out another sigh of finding a line of clothes onto the floor that belonged to your son.

You drop the bags onto the ground and you begin to stock them onto the shelves and mini fridge.

You’re far too engrossed in organising that you don’t notice the bathroom door open and close and footsteps come closer. 

“Mommy?”

You drop a can of soda and yelp when it cracks open and begins to fuzz. You go to grab it, turning your head to look at the sound of the voice.

This was highly unfortunate.

“Jungkook…” you murmur, lifting to your feet to throw out the soda can. “...why are you here?”

“In my…dorm room?” Jungkook cracks a smile. He’s naked - only sporting a towel; again, how unfortunate. Not because you don’t find the man attractive and would be willing to mound him, but because you thought you were having enough self-control lately. 

“Dash said you and him were at a party.” you murmur. You turn your head away with warm cheeks.

“He stayed.” Jungkook licks his lips. “He was occupied.”

“With Hana?” you question, not truly caring if he was or not.

Jungkook snorts. “Sure,” he says with a shrug. He hasn’t seen Hana since dinner and that was the norm with Dash.

“I’m only here to stock up on snacks and drinks.” you nod towards the newly stocked shelves. “I should be going-”

“Why?” Jungkook asks. He takes a seat onto his neatly made bed opposite of the disheveled one of Dash’s. 

“What do you mean?” you scoff.

“What’s your issue?”

You knit your brows. 

“You’ve been avoiding me, mommy.”

You want to laugh at Jungkook’s words. “I’ve been avoiding you?”

In the red light, Jungkook thinks you look hot. Especially while irritated. He knows that what he’s doing is a form of manipulation by putting the blame on you. He had decided to ignore you - against his best wishes; he missed you so much. You were obviously upset about hearing Yvette’s name that it caused you to push him away.

Witnessing Yvette at her party had irritated him enough to leave said party early against Dash’s wishes. He had driven home wanting to call you, but instead decided against it. He wanted to see how far it would go until he could see you again.

To think Jungkook was going to facetime you tonight, but here you were. It was like the universe was speaking to him now.

“Yes. You haven’t called me.” Jungkook shrugs. He doesn’t care if his towel is slowly unravelling.

“I never call you.” you squint your eyes, pondering what in the world he was going on about.

“Exactly, mommy. It’s like you don’t care about me.” Jungkook pouts a bit. “Or is it because you want me to keep following you like some type of lovesick teenager.”

You tilt your head. What game was Jungkook playing here? If anything, you should be questioning him. Why in the world would he give you the best dick in years and then ghost you for Yvette?

You mentally curse at yourself for sounding like this. You weren’t the age to care what in the world a man did - especially one your son's age.

Jungkook watches you for a moment before snorting.

“You can’t even admit that you were using me.” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re probably off to the next college boy.”

Your eyes widen at his words. “Am I some type of cougar to you?!” you hiss at him. Why you were still here discussing anything with Jungkook was beyond you. Dash could walk through that door any moment now and see you with his nearly naked friend.

“No.” Jungkook answers swiftly. “I just thought you liked me for me.”

“I do like you, Jungkook.” you say between gritted teeth. You cannot believe you were having this conversation. “It’s just not morally correct for us to do this. You know that.”

“Then why haven’t you walked out yet?” Jungkook questions. You were asking yourself the same thing. “Since you want to be so “morally correct”.”

You stand a bit straighter. “I will.”

Jungkook leans forward, watching you. Witnessing him in the red lights in person was far better than over the phone - yet you couldn’t allow yourself to grow weak. Not now while he was obviously testing you.

“Have a good night, Jungkook.”

You turn away from him, deciding that he could organize the rest of the snacks. Whenever Dash returned, you didn’t need to be here. It was risky already sneaking around with his best friend - no matter how much of a rush it was.

Your hand wraps around the door knob and just as you open it, it closes once more. A tattooed arm is right beside your head. Another hand locks the door swiftly, leaving you caged between the door and him.

“Jungkook.”

Your tone is so soft, yet stern like that it causes Jungkook’s cock to harden instantly. 

“Yes?”

“I have to go.”

“Why? Dash won’t be back.” Jungkook states - because he texted Dash himself and told him to stay out. It was a code that the both of them came up with when the other had company over. Dash was far too oblivious to realize that recently, his eyes only ever been on you. “I missed you. You pushed me away, mommy.”

You take a deep breath. “You should be with girls your own age-”

“I knew that was why!” Jungkook quips. “Yvette is just a friend.” He wouldn’t call her that, but it was wrong to say that she was nothing to him entirely. It made sense in Jungkook’s mind.

“If I had her do you think I would be craving you every time?”

And there it was, the hand around your waist to bring you closer. The nose against your neck to inhale that sweet scent he enjoyed so much. 

Fuck.

“I missed you so much, mommy. Just stay for a while.”

This was wrong.

You couldn’t stay here in the dorms. What the fuck were you going to do if Dash did come? How would you explain that?

What if somehow someone knew you were here and you were charged with something - or Jungkook or Dash?

Why hadn’t you said no to Jungkook and why hadn’t you stopped his wandering hands?

“Please, mommy. It’s been so long since I’ve tasted you.”

And of course you folded, allowing Jungkook to pull you to his bed. It’s a dorm and the biggest you could fit in here were full-size beds, but it was big enough for Jungkook and you. Somehow, you were out of your clothes in under 3 minutes and beneath his covers. Your mind screams at you to act like the grown adult you were and get out of whatever spell you were under, but your core was begging for you to stay.

“You didn’t miss me even a little bit?” Jungkook murmurs, hovering above you. His lips are kissing along your neck, leaving behind wet trails. 

“I did.” you admit, as stupid as it was to.

“You pushing me away kept me horny all night, mommy. I guess we’ll have to make that up.”

Jungkook never cared about being quiet while he was in the doors - especially during the weekends when it was as quiet and dead as it was. That meant that he could do whatever he wanted and he was fully intending on doing just that. And it always started with your breast - the perfect mounds to sit right in the palms of his hands. His hands roam your body as he finds his mouth wrapping onto your right one. His cock rubs against your naked core, sliding past your clit.

You let out a hushed moan, your body reacting for you. You actually missed having Jungkook on you - suckling onto your breast needily and treating your body with pleasure. It was insane to say aloud; but damn was it the truth.

“We can’t do this forever, Kookie.”

Jungkook’s right hand keeps you in place so he can easily rut his cock against your now wet clit. He groans against your nipples, popping it in and out of his mouth like a lollipop. His eyes glance up at you, appearing entirely too sinful underneath these same red lights.

“Why not, mommy?”

There were a thousand and one reasons why. Jungkook was just horny and so were you. Eventually his life would continue on after college and so would yours - you couldn’t continue this. But for now, it would do. You would allow Jungkook to fuck you so good that you’d lose all of your morals.

“I don’t want to fuck anyone else. I want you.”

Jungkook’s tongue licks up from your breast to your collarbones. He goes towards your neck next and sinks his teeth down onto your skin. He continues to rub against your clit, groaning and grunting against your neck while you let out a hushed gap.

“Your pussy is always so good, mommy. What do you expect me to do?”

Your pussy’s throbbing now. Jungkook’s hand grips your thigh just as you begin to buckle it to meet his thrusts.

“I think about you all the time. I think about you creaming on my cock like you do. About me cumming in you so deep that you’d end up pregnant.”

That was new, causing you to let out a low gasp - one that Jungkook notices immediately when he slides past your clit.

“You’d like that, right, mommy? Me cumming in you so much that I’d get you pregnant? I’d actually be a good father to our child.”

This was sick, you think. There was no way this was exciting you. You were a grown woman, for fucks sakes! 

But it’s the way that Jungkook says it - so low and sultry. His voice so husky and full of lust that it’s far too appealing for you not to moan and now your head, your thighs caging him closer to you. “You’d be so pretty pregnant, mommy. Your breast would grow bigger with milk. You’d look so hot.” Jungkook grumbles the last part, this time his hand reaching behind you to grip your ass entirely. His tip is right at your hole now. “I could fuck you right now, mommy. Get you full of my cum…”

Jungkook is speaking, but you notice he isn't talking to you anymore. It’s as if he’s speaking to himself - should he or should he not?

But Jungkook does. He enters you without a second thought - nor do you fight him off. Your pussy wraps around him so heavily like it usually does, and each time he’s as shocked as the last. 

Now Jungkook’s mind is fully engrossed with the thought of you being pregnant.  He would like to think he would be a good father - better than Dash’s. He knew enough to know that a father that only saw their kid maybe 4 times out the year wasn’t a father. He wouldn’t prioritize himself over you or his child; he wasn’t selfish.

Nor was Jungkook a broke college student like most. He was here because he had to be; it was mandatory if he wanted to remain in his grandfather’s will. It was mandatory if he wanted to leave here and join his family company. He didn’t need a degree that was going to get him nowhere; it was only a hobby for him - for the rest of his cousins attending and scattered in the dorms.

You didn’t need to know that; not yet.

“Fuck, mommy.” Jungkook pounds into you greedily. His hands grip your ass,  your squelching pussy music to his ears. Your legs are hiked onto his shoulders. “You’re so wet. You want a baby, don’t you?”

The sane part of you was already ashamed. You had allowed Jungkook far into your life (and body) that he was able to do or say whatever he wanted. He had you naked in under five minutes and fucking in under ten. His cock was so deep in you that you were seeing red covered stars.

“Yes, Kookie!” you squeal. “Your cock is so big!”

“And you love it.” Jungkook chuckles darkly, drilling your pussy with no remorse. 

“I do love it!”

You were being too loud, you think, but you cannot find it in you to care right now. Jungkook, in the little time you’ve allowed him to fuck you, has managed to make you cum. Countless times. Within multiple sex acts.  

This was a rarity and damn was it hard to find.

Jungkook pulls out suddenly and before you can whine, he replaces his cock with three of his fingers. He begins to pump with the same speed as his cock, connecting his tongue to your clit.

“Kook-kie!” you gasp. The sudden action has your mind swirling.

Jungkook has wanted to taste you since the same night you told him to go. He wanted to have his tongue on you again and again and again - but he didn't. So he had to take what he deserved. 

Your legs are shaking, feeling the overstimulating pleasure build through you. You cannot help with how fast you were going to cum - not when you had an overachiever like Jungkook. Your hand grips his hair to keep his tongue in place, your hips grinding against his tongue. 

Jungkook’s dark eyes glanced up at you, enjoying the way you were loving every minute of this. An action no one but him can do - only what he should be doing to you. He allows you to take a bit of control and keep him against your greedy cunt, wanting more and more until you physically couldn’t take anymore.

‘“I’m gonna cum, Kookie…!”

Jungkook only suckles hardly, allowing his fingers to pump faster and faster. He wanted you to cum all over his tongue; to use him as if he was your personal fuck toy. If only he could be day in and out; to feel and taste you at any given moment of the day.

Jungkook’s cock throbs to be inside you again.

“You’re always so good for mommy, Kookie.”

Your toes are curling as you’re cumming, your vision blurring a bit. Jungkook’s own eyes close as you begin to cum, arousal pooling out of you and coating his hand entirely, but he doesn’t want your pleasure to end - not even when you’re squealing and shaking.

Jungkook forces you onto your stomach next, hiking your hips up and he enters you. He’s fully in charge again - yet he never never stepped down. One hand is on your back, forcing you down while the other is on your hips. He pounds into you disrespectfully, his cock hitting your sweet spot with each thrust.

You’re continuing to squeal into his cotton sheets, hands gripping them for support. Your ass is amazing - it always is in this position. He’s so deep that he can cum in you right now; bury you with warm seed that there isn’t any way you cannot fall pregnant.

“Such a hungry pussy, mommy. You’re doing so good.”

It was all too much to handle. Your pussy continues to leak with arousal, coating your thighs and his bedsheets entirely. You’ve unable to form words at the moment and only continue to babble or moan, but it was okay with Jungkook. He knew that only he knew how to fuck you this good.

“I know you already have a son, mommy, so I hope  we have a daughter. She’ll be so cute just like you.” Jungkook laughs gleefully, his cock springing in and out of your wet core. “And if we have a son, I guess we’ll have to try again.”

Jungkook forces a hand between your legs, teasingly tapping your swollen clit. It was sickening how wet and overstimulated you were.

“Only I can fuck you, mommy. Say it.”

You can’t - not now. Not with how well you were being fucked - completely used like a ragdoll.

“Say. It.” Jungkook hisses, his wet hand grabbing your throat and forcing you up against him. “Say that you belong to me, mommy.” Jungkook pressed, his demeanor changed entirely. His thrusts are punishing.

“Only…to…you…” you force out, clenching pussy milking his cock for everything you wanted from him. 

“Only mine to fuck, right? You won’t be a whore and cheat on me, right, mommy?” Jungkook asks, squeezing your throat. “You’re so fucked out and drunk off of cock that you’d say anything.”

Both hands grip your breast, but still Jungkook plunges his cock inside of you. It isn’t as though you’re in his college dorm with how disrespectfully he fucks you. But neither of you care - you’re drowning in overstimulation.

“Look at you, mommy. So fucked out and squirting all over me.” Jungkook chuckles. “I’ll ruin your life if you ever think you’re going to leave me and give such a sweet pussy to someone else.”

“It’s too much, Kookie.” you let out another squeal as another high bubbles up.

“I bet it is.” Jungkook spats. You don’t even realize what he’s saying to you - you were so cute. “You aren’t going to leave me. Say it.”

“I-I’m not going to leave you, Kookie.” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut yet again as you cum all over his sloppy cock. He was going to cum right in your pussy like he always does.

“F-Fuck.” Jungkook stutters. His eyes dart to the corner of his room and he smirks, the camera well hidden and only for him to see. The amount of footage he has taken on this exact bed could not compare to the footage of you he has - only for his eyes only, of course. Or, to blackmail you if you ever did decide to leave him.

Warm cum shoots right into you and you sigh, letting out a soft cry.

You want to say you don’t know when the last time you bought yourself a morning after pill.

But you cannot - because you never had. Your son was going to be graduating college soon and here you were purchasing a morning after pill.

You should be ashamed of yourself and the amount of carelessness you’ve managed to put yourself through in the last few weeks.

You managed to not get pregnant after Dash, and now you just couldn’t stop fucking.

Jungkook has fucked you on every inch - of his side - of the dorm room. Against the wall, in the surprisingly clean bathroom while you and he bathed - an act that caught even you off guard. You were so dick drunk that you rode him until he was begging you to let him cum - it was insane.

You managed to sneak out before the sun rose and went to the nearest convenient store to be judged by a middle age woman.

You close your eyes after you swallow the pill. You rest your head against the cool window and let out a soft sigh.

Was this where your life came to? Fucking Jungkook and allowing him to treat you like a cumbucket whore?

Your phone sounds so loud that it startles you. The name on the phone causes your eyebrows to shoot.

“Dash’s Dad” is labeled and instantly you want to scream. It was not the right time.

“What?”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

The voice irritates you instantly. 

“I’ll be landing soon.”

“And…you’re telling me for what?” you snicker. “Call an uber.”

He sighs. “Are you always this cold, Y/N?”

“Dash is in college.” you sigh. “You don’t need to call me anymore to get in contact with him.”

He does - only because he and you both know Dash won’t answer.  Maybe it was the thought that counts.

“I was thinking I can stay at yours.”

“Hell. No.” 

Your hand squeezes the phone. To think this man had the audacity-

“Why? Found yourself a man?”

“Why the fuck is that any of your business?!” you snap.

“That means no.” he snickers. "I'll be staying at the house that I've bought. But..." he trails off. “I was thinking we can go to dinner. Talk, you know?” he speaks.

“There’s nothing for us to talk about-”

“While I’m paying his tuition, yes there is.” 

That was low. Dash didn’t even know that, nor were you going to tell him. It was a part of the agreement you made with his parents. They assisted with funding Dash while he went to college and in return, he would do the same for the son he barely had any interest in raising.

Until now apparently.

“What do you want?” you snicker with a shake of your head. “You want to come around out of nowhere and pretend to be a family man?”

“I’ve been trying-”

“You tried when he was 15.” you interrupt. “You promised to see him but haven’t done anything but send a check. Do I have to remind you that you missed his high school graduation or…?”

This is why you avoided speaking with him for so long. It ended with you being pissed at the memories of your son being disappointed time and time again.

“I’m trying, Y/N. Can you give me a little grace?”

Inhale.

Exhale.

“I’ll be expecting for us to go to dinner-”

“I’ll cook instead.” you interrupt. You didn’t want to even be seen with that man.

“Fine.” he scoffs. “Then we can discuss some things.”

You don’t even want to know at this point. Was it bad to wish that whatever plane he was on would crash and only he would be the one to not survive it?

“Whatever.”

“Bring your little boyfriend, Y/N. I know someone as graceful as-”

You hang up the phone before he can continue to piss you off.

You’re unsure why your mind drifted to Jungkook at the thought of “boyfriend”.

trivia-yandere: okay so like, not so much yandere yet but as you can see we're planting seeds... :3

part five think this was only supposed to be four parts

@sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @investedreader @marylight098 @youcallmeana @allie-in-the-moon @boonbyu @chimmy-licious @llallaaa @hyeinwluv85s @busanbby-jjk @bts-ruu @marylight098

[moluvies]

yearning ꔛ hange zoe x f!reader

a/n: i seriously cant say y/n anymore without thinking of the tiktok memes please save me . read part two here !!

words: 5.3k

cw: minor injury, confessions, they/them pronouns for hange, she/her pronouns for reader, hange w/ female anatomy, reader has female anatomy, reader is the #1 yearner!!, SMUT!! hange is a freak lowkey (obvi), face sitting, fingering hange, MDNI !!

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

You wanted to follow them into the wooded area nearby, but it seemed Commander Erwin knew you weren’t exactly prepared for whatever Hange was up to during these scouting missions. Levi was frequently tasked with following them instead, known for his abilities to keep people from dying but also his annoyance in having to do so.

You stayed back at camp, shoulders slumped where you sat at a nearby picnic table. Commander Erwin was right, obviously. You’d just be a liability if you went with them, but it didn’t stop from making you worry. Hange and Levi were fully capable soldiers. Perhaps the most capable, actually. But being apart from them always made your heart beat faster and your head begin to ache. Despite their technical skills, Hange still always managed to put themselves in danger.

"Chin up, (Y/N)!"

You looked up, finding Petra alongside Oluo with jugs of water in their arms. You simply sighed. It wasn’t a secret to your comrades how much you cared for Hange — not by a long shot. It didn’t make the constant teasing any less annoying, though.

"Your little Hange will be back in no time, dear," Oluo had added, his voice taking on a twinge of teasing that had you rolling your eyes.

"I know that. I'm just... I dont know," you shrugged, "bored."

Petra let out a lighthearted laugh, placing the jug of water onto the table beside you. "Oh, so we bore you now?" She teased.

"It's not like that," you replied with look of embarassment. "You know I enjoy your company. It's just—"

"You'd rather be with Hange," Oluo finished for you, setting his water jug down with a smug grin. "We understand, don't we, Petra?"

Petra nudged him with her elbow but couldn't hide her smile. "Leave her alone, Oluo. Not everyone can be as stoic as you pretend to be."

Oluo scoffed, crossing his arms. "I don't pretend anything. I—" His words cut off as he accidentally bit his tongue, causing both you and Petra to stifle laughter.

The sound of commotion from the edge of camp caught your attention. Rising to your feet, you squinted toward the tree line, heart immediately racing when you spotted the returning group. Levi was in the lead, his expression even more sour than usual. Behind him was Hange, but they weren't walking properly—they were leaning heavily on another scout.

Without thinking, you broke into a run.

"What happened?" you called out, reaching them before anyone else from camp.

Levi clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Four-eyes decided to get too close to a cliff edge. Turns out unstable rock is still unstable, even for scientists."

Hange looked up at you with a bright smile despite the dirty bandage wrapped around their thigh and the various scratches on their face. "It was worth it though! The view from that position let me see exactly how the terrain affects titan movement patterns when—"

"Shut up," Levi cut them off. "Get them to the medical tent," he ordered the scout supporting Hange.

"I can help," you blurted, moving to Hange's other side and slipping their arm around your shoulders. The contact made your pulse race, even under these circumstances.

As you helped Hange toward the medical tent, you couldn't stop the worried questions tumbling from your lips. "How bad is it? Did you break anything? How much blood did you lose? Why weren't you being more careful?"

Hange laughed, their voice still enthusiastic despite their obvious pain. "It's just a flesh wound! Some rocks gave way, I slid about twenty feet down a slope. The cut on my leg is the worst of it."

"That's still serious!" you protested, helping them inside the tent where medical supplies awaited.

Your hands trembled slightly as you eased them onto a cot. Being this close, touching them, supporting their weight—it was both heaven and torture knowing it came at the cost of their injury.

"Really, (Y/N), I'm fine," Hange insisted as you and the other scout helped them onto a cot. "I've had much worse. Remember that time with the experimental trap and I—"

"I remember," you cut them off, not wanting to relive that particular memory. "That doesn't make this okay."

Levi appeared at the tent entrance, arms crossed. "The bandage needs changing. It's filthy, like everything else about you," he said pointedly towards Hange.

Despite his harsh words, Levi moved efficiently around the tent, gathering clean bandages and antiseptic. You helped Hange remove their gear and boots while they continued rambling excitedly about their findings, seemingly oblivious to both their injury and your distress.

"You should have seen it, (Y/N)! The formation of the ravine suggests that titans might be using these natural passages to travel undetected! If we map them all, we could potentially predict—"

"Hold still," you murmured, gently rolling up their pant leg to reveal the bloodied bandage. Your fingers brushed against their skin, and you hoped they wouldn't notice the way your hands shook.

When you unwrapped it, you couldn't help but gasp at the jagged gash that ran along their thigh. It wasn't life-threatening, but it was deep and angry-looking.

"See? Just a scratch," Hange said dismissively, then winced when Levi approached with the antiseptic.

"Some scratch," Levi muttered. "Hold them still," he instructed you.

You placed your hands on Hange's shoulders, hyper-aware of the warmth radiating through their shirt. They smelled like earth and sweat and blood, and still, somehow, it made your heart race. Hange's face contorted in pain as Levi cleaned the wound, and you found yourself wishing you could take their pain away.

Their eyes met yours, and they tried to mask their discomfort with a smile. "This is nothing compared to what I'm going to discover with this new information," they said through gritted teeth. "The commander will be pleased once I explain my theory about—"

"The commander," Levi interrupted, "will be pleased if you return with all your limbs attached. Which almost wasn't the case today."

Your grip on Hange's shoulders tightened involuntarily. "Please be more careful next time," you whispered, your voice betraying far more emotion than you intended. "I know your research is important, but..."

Hange reached up, placing their hand over yours. The casual touch sent electricity through your veins. Their eyes softened behind their glasses, and for a moment, the manic scientist facade fell away. "I know. I'll try to be more careful."

"No, you won't," Levi said flatly as he finished bandaging the wound. "But next time, maybe we'll let (Y/N) come along. She can't possibly do a worse job of keeping you alive than I did."

Your eyes widened in surprise. Was that Levi's way of complimenting you? Even Levi may have noticed your devotion to Hange, much to your embarassment.

"That's a wonderful idea!" Hange exclaimed, suddenly reinvigorated. Their hand was still on yours, and they gave it a squeeze that made your heart flutter embarrassingly. "Next time you can come with us, (Y/N)! I could use an assistant who actually cares about my research."

The thought of being alone with Hange in the field made your stomach do somersaults. You quickly looked away, certain your face betrayed every emotion you were trying to hide.

Levi scoffed as he packed away the medical supplies. "I didn't say anything about being an assistant to your suicidal experiments, Four-eyes. Just someone to make sure you don't break your neck."

Despite his harsh words, Levi had taken obvious care with the bandaging. He might act annoyed, but you knew he cared for Hange—just not in the same breathless, aching way you did.

"There," Levi said, straightening up. "Try not to reopen it with your constant fidgeting." He turned to leave but paused at the tent entrance. "And (Y/N), make sure they actually rest. Tie them down if you have to."

After he left, Hange chuckled, then winced again at the movement. "He's such a mother hen under all that scowling."

You sat down on the edge of the cot, closer than was strictly necessary. With the immediate crisis past, your body finally remembered how to breathe normally. "You really scared me today," you admitted softly.

Hange's smile faded into something more serious, more genuine, the slight quirk of their lips remained. Like they were genuinely very sorry for worrying you. "I'm sorry about that. But you know how important this research is. Every bit of information could save lives."

"I know," you sighed, finding the courage to meet their gaze. "Just... try to remember that your life is important too. To the regiment." You bit your lower lip, heart pounding in your ears before adding, "To me."

The words hung between you, more revealing than you'd intended. You looked down quickly, studying the threadbare blanket, terrified of what you might see in their eyes.

Hange was technically your superior, but still someone you had trained with. Their passion for knowledge about the titans was always intriguing to you, their approach to leading being much different from other section commanders in the regiment. Hange's intelligence was always really attractive to you, causing you to admire them since you met them. Your admiration was always from afar, though, at least until graduation from the cadet corps and when you began serving in a squad under their command.

However, despite everyone in your proximity being able to see how attached and borderline obsessed with Hange you were, Hange never said a word about it. You were unsure if they saw what everyone else saw.

Hange was quiet for a moment—an unusual state for them. "I'll keep that in mind," they said, voice uncharacteristically soft.

When you dared to look up, their expression had changed to something you couldn't quite read—something warm and focused entirely on you instead of titans or experiments. "And next time, you'll be right there with me. I promise it'll be exciting!"

You couldn't help but smile, despite knowing that "exciting" in Hange's vocabulary usually meant "dangerous." But as you looked at their eager expression, bright eyes shining with passion despite their injury, you knew you'd follow them anywhere—cliff edges and all.

"I'll hold you to that," you said. "Now get some rest before Levi comes back and really does tie you down."

"Stay," Hange said suddenly, making your body freeze momentarily. "I'm not going to be able to sleep anyway."

It didn't take much convincing, obviously. With the most brief hint of hesitation, you nod, heart racing rapidly in your chest. "Okay, I'll stay as long as you need."

It was pathetic, you thought. Sometimes you hated how much it showed when it came to your interactions with Hange, how much your devotion and attachment was present in your every word towards them.

"It's just nice to have someone who listens to my rambling without telling me to shut up every 2 seconds," Hange says with a fond smile, adjusting their glasses momentarily as they stared off at the medical supplies in the room.

"Oh, come on," you laugh, feeling your heart flutter at even the smallest amount of praise. "I tell you to shut up plenty."

"Only when you're worried," Hange countered, turning to look at you. "Which is all the time with you."

Their words made your breath catch and a flush creep up your neck. "I'm... I just... It's not really like that," you stuttered out, the implication that you worried all the time seemed vague and wasn't necessarily accurate to your character. The worrying was specifically reserved for Hange. Everyone knew that. You just weren't sure if Hange did.

"I only really worry about you, if I'm honest," you finally said quietly.

"Am I that reckless?" Hange asked sarcastically with a grin, obviously teasing you. After a beat of silence, they sigh. "I know. Moblit and Levi have been telling me for months about a soldier who's seemed attached to me at the hip, but I guess I was too preoccupied to realize who he was even talking about. Until now, at least."

You hum, not trusting yourself to speak. The confirmation that not only Levi and Moblit knew, but now Hange was beginning to understand made your heart race to the point you might've felt a bit dizzy. "I'm sorry," you say finally. "I don't mean to smother you or anything."

"Oh, not at all!" Hange assured you, waving their hands around, dismissing any insecurities you may have had a moment ago. "I actually find it rather endearing."

You genuinely were at a loss for words, still not trusting yourself to formulate a proper response that didn't involve stuttering.

Hange shifted on the cot, wincing slightly as they adjusted their injured leg, but their eyes never left your side profile. There was something different in their gaze now—a focused intensity that was usually reserved for their research.

"You know," Hange continued, their voice dropping to a softer tone, "for someone who notices everything about titans, I've been remarkably oblivious about what's been right in front of me."

You still weren't sure how to respond. You knew you probably looked or seemed ridiculous now. Just sitting there with your mouth closed, heart racing and your foot nervously tapping on the ground.

"Hange," you started. "I'm really sorry."

"For what?" They asked, confidence in their tone (as there usually was) and a pleased smile on their face. "I may be a bit slow on these matters," they admitted with a slight chuckle, "but I'm not completely hopeless The way you look at me sometimes... it's the same way I look at a breakthrough in my research."

The statement was so distinctively Hange that you had to smile, a bit of the tension leaving your shoulders. Hange said your name, making you look towards them. Their smile was warm on their face, eyebrows twisted up in something that may have been pity. Or that's just what you told yourself.

Hange's hand came up and gently cupped your cheek, their thumb swiping along your cheekbone tenderly. The touch made your breath hitch, but the kind smile on their face eased a lot of the nervousness you held moments ago.

"I'm sorry, for not realizing," Hange stated. "It must have been hard."

You shook your head, the gesture causing Hange's hand to drop from your face. "It wasn't, just..." you hesitated, unsure where the conversation was even going. Hange wasn't normally difficult to read, but with matters of the heart maybe you were also a bit ignorant. "Just being near you made me happy," you finally said, your voice shaky and soft.

Hange said nothing for a second before turning their body more towards you, their fingers coming up to brush some hair out of your face. The gesture was intimate, but most of all gentle. Gentle with your feelings but also of you in general.

"For what it's worth, every time I'm with you I'm happy, too," Hange said. "What that says about me, I never knew," their fingers pushed hair behind your ear, staying there motionless for a moment. "Until now."

You hummed, even you not oblivious to the tension accumulating here. The way Hange smiled at you, the way your gaze kept dropping to their lips, and the way Hange seemed to encourage it with their expression. None of it passed you by, but it didn't make you feel any less nervous.

"May I?" Hange whispered, gaze dropping to your lips.

Unable to find your voice, you simply nodded.

The first press of their lips against yours was gentle, questioning. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned into the kiss, years of longing finally finding release. Hange's hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, drawing you closer as the kiss deepened.

You felt pathetic when an involuntary whimper left your lips against theirs. Until you felt the grin forming on their lips, which made you feel more at ease. Hange tilted their head slightly, nose brushing against yours as their tongue found your mouth.

You felt completely under their control, completely theirs. When Hange's hand met the small of your back, you shivered, but then pulled away, breathless and dizzy with the same pounding in your chest.

"We shouldn't—your leg—"

"Don't care," Hange murmured against your lips, already leaned in again, their voice taking on that familiar stubborn tone that both frustrated and endeared them to you.

Their hands tangled in your hair as they pulled you back into the kiss, more insistent this time. You could feel their smile against your lips, feel the way their breath hitched when you tentatively placed your hands on their shoulders, fingers digging slightly into the fabric of their shirt.

You melted into their touch, years of silent longing pouring into each caress. Hange kissed with the same enthusiasm they approached everything else—thoroughly, passionately, with complete abandon. Their tongue traced the seam of your lips, requesting entry that you eagerly granted.

"I've wanted this," you confessed against their mouth, "for a really long time."

Hange hummed in response, one hand sliding down to your waist to pull you closer on the narrow cot. "How long?" they asked, breaking the kiss to trail their lips along your jawline.

"Since training," you admitted, tilting your head to grant them better access. Your breath caught when their teeth grazed the sensitive skin below your ear.

"That long?" Hange pulled back slightly, looking genuinely surprised. Their glasses had fogged slightly, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight. "I'm even more oblivious than I thought."

You reached up to remove their glasses, folding them carefully and placing them aside. Without the barrier, their eyes seemed even more intense, more vulnerable. "I didn't mind," you said, pressing your lips against theirs once more.

Soon, you found yourself kissing Hange more desperately, but not as pushy as someone else might've been. Instead, you gently eased them onto the cot, their head meeting the pillow.

"You're so pretty, Hange," you said, your expression carrying the weight of the words you spoke. And they were. Their brown hair, cut choppy and usually messy in a way that you found endearing and Levi found revolting, was now splayed across the light fabric of the pillowcase. Their eyes slightly hooded and lips parted. "So pretty," you repeated more to yourself, leaning down and kissing at their jawline.

"Can I touch you?" You ask, your body hovering above theirs and your hand carefully placed on their abdomen, making sure you put no pressure on their injured leg.

"What kind of question is that?" Hange joked, but still, they grabbed your hand, placing it where they wanted it against their breast. "Don't hold back. I know you're a shy one but don't let that stop you," they said with a smile.

Your heart raced furiously just at the contact of your hand on their breast. "But, your leg..." you started.

"Will be fine. Just touch me, I really could use this anyway," Hange said, grinning. "Especially from you," they added, their hand caressing the top of your head.

You nodded with a grunt of confirmation, your head dipping again to capture their lips. Your hands met the buttons of their shirt, popping them open as quick as you could. Once the shirt was opened, you moved your mouth to kiss at their neck and then collarbone, noting the way Hange gasped out when your hands touched their waist.

Your hands trailed upwards to dip beneath the fabric of their bra, feeling the soft flesh of their breasts and the hardening of their nipples. The moment your skin met theirs, Hange arched into your touch with a quiet moan, their fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close.

"Fuck," they sighed.

Your shyness warred with the hunger coiling in your belly, but the way they looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered—made you bold. You dipped your head, taking one of their nipples into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the stiff peak before sucking gently.

"You're so good at that," Hange whimpered, body trembling beneath you at the contact that was so foreign to them until now.

Encouraged, you switched to the other nipple, lavishing it with the same attention while your hand slid down their stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of their pants. You hesitated only for a second before slipping beneath, finding the wet heat between their thighs through the fabric of their underwear. You were careful to not put any pressure on their hurt leg, continuing to lap at their nipple as they looked down at you.

"You're really wet," you breathed in admiration, your fingers touching and feeling outside of their underwear.

Hange bucked their hips impatiently.

"Please," they whined, their voice thick with need.

You exhaled shakily, finally pushing their panties to the side and letting your fingers touch their bare heat. The moment you touched their cunt, you felt how wet they were, how ready. Your fingers slid through their slick folds, feeling all the moisture that you caused physically evident.

"Hange," you said, your gaze looking down at them with a soft expression, one that expressed care and fondness.

Hange's hand met your forearm, obviously they were holding on by a thread in their restraint.

Getting the hint, you pressed your fingers against their clit, instantly hearing the sharp intake of breath it caused. You bit your lip, eyes locked with Hange's face, desperate to see their reactions to your touch.

You rub tight circles on their clit, relishing in the way Hange gasped, the way their thighs trembled.

Then, your fingers dipped lower. You started with one, pushing it into the core of their pussy. "God," Hange gasped, their grip on your forearm tightening enough to hurt but not enough to make you care. You then pushed another in, seeing the way Hange's lips parted as you did so.

“That’s it,” Hange panted, their thighs trembling around your wrist. “Just like that—fuck—don’t stop—”

You didn’t. You kept your pace relentless, watching their face twist in pleasure, their lips parted in silent moans. Their cunt was dripping now, your fingers sliding in and out with ease, each thrust drawing another breathy whimper from their lips.

Your thumb circled their clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves in time with the push and pull of your fingers. The wet sounds of your fingers pumping in and out of their needy pussy filled the tent, along with Hange's increasingly desperate moans and whimpers.

Your fingers delved deeper, sinking knuckle-deep into their tight heat. Hange moaned long and low, their hips undulating. "Oh fuck," their hand fisted in your hair as they pulled you into a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth and desperation.

You fingered them with clumsy fervor, pouring all your pent-up longing into each thrust. Hange met each pump of your wrist with a roll of their hips, fucking themselves on your hand.

"That's it, baby..." Hange panted against your lips, "fuck me with your fingers...wanna cum all over your hand..."

The filthy words falling from their lips only heightened your own need, but didn't stop the way your heart pounded and your face warmed in embarassment. It was a given that Hange of all people would talk like that during, well, this, but it still made your head short-circuit momentarily. You could feel your panties growing damp, your clit throbbing in time with the frantic hammer of your heart. But right now, your focus was on Hange, on bringing them pleasure.

You curved your fingers just so, rubbing insistently over that special spot inside. Hange cried out, their pussy clamping down like a vice. "I'm coming, shit!" Their body went rigid, then shook with the force of their orgasm.

Watching Hange come undone by your touch was the most erotic thing you'd ever seen. Their face was flushed, mouth open in a silent scream of ecstasy. You felt a rush of feminine pride and desire seeing the effect you had on them.

Finally, Hange collapsed back onto the cot, chest heaving. You slowly withdrew your fingers from their fluttering heat, bringing them to your mouth. Tasting Hange's essence for the first time. The flavor was salty and sweet, and you knew you wanted to spend a lifetime learning the taste of their skin.

Hange watched you through hooded eyes as you licked your fingers clean, their kiss-swollen lips curling into a satisfied grin. "I knew you'd be good at that," they murmured, reaching up to caress your cheek.

"What makes you say that?" You ask with a nervous laugh.

"If I say it, I'll be outed as a creep," Hange said ominously, making you laugh sincerely this time. You leaned down and kissed them tenderly, wanting to show them that your affection didn't come from just attraction and lust but because you've spent years admiring them.

"Now," Hange smiled, their hands wandering down your sides until they met your ass through your pants, "I want to taste you," they murmured, their voice rough with desire but the smile on their face remained. "I want to bury my face in your pussy and eat you out until you scream."

Your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red, arousal and nerves warring within you. "Oh god, Hange..." you laughed nervously, but it didn't stop the way your thighs trembled slightly. The idea of having their mouth on you, their tongue delving into your most intimate places...it was almost too much to comprehend.

"Please..." Hange pleaded with your name, fingers finding the button of your pants. "Let me taste you. Sit on my face," they said.

"What?" You nearly stuttered, eyes widened. "Hange, I can't-"

"Please," they repeated. "I can't really do it any other way," they added with a grin that showed you just how serious they were, "what with my hurt leg and all."

"Hange, what if—what if I hurt you more?"

They chuckled. "The only thing that’ll hurt is if you don’t let me eat you out right fucking now."

You bit your lip, the position that they suggested seeming dirty and not traditional to what you viewed as "normal" sex. But you nodded, understanding Hange's perspective and also the way your cunt ached beaneath your clothes.

Finally, you nodded, sitting up as Hange helped you slide your pants off. Now clad in just your underwear, Hange smiled at you. "Don't be nervous," they said, fingers already hooked at the hem of your underwear. "You're beautiful."

Soon, your underwear was removed, revealing the aching wetness of your pussy all in full view of Hange's eager gaze. Hange's hands gripped your ass, encouraging you to shift until you hovered over their face. You could feel their breath, hot and heavy, fanning over your dripping sex. Your heart pounded, but the ache between your legs was impossible to ignore.

Biting your lip, you slowly lowered yourself, straddling Hange's face. You let out a shocked gasp as you felt their mouth press against your wet pussy, their nose nestling into your mound. Hange groaned, their hands kneading the globes of your ass.

Hange didn't waste a second before diving in, their tongue delving between your swollen lips to lap at your dripping folds.

"Oh god, Hange!" you cried out, your hips jerking in surprise at the sudden, intense sensation. Their tongue explored your most intimate places, stroking and probing, tracing the shape of your slit. You could feel your arousal flooding out, coating Hange's chin and cheeks.

Hange groaned in approval, the vibrations of their voice adding a new layer of sensation. Their hands tightened on your ass, pulling you harder against their face. You knew they were injured, but right now all they cared about was the pleasure they were giving you.

You could feel their tongue circling your clit, flicking over the sensitive nub. Your head fell back and you moaned softly, too lost in sensation to feel shy anymore. You rolled your hips faster, fucking yourself on their face with abandon.

You moaned, fingers tangling in their hair as they devoured you, their nose pressing against your clit while their tongue fucked into you. The sounds were obscene—wet, sloppy, filthy—and your face burned at the realization that anyone outside the tent could probably hear.

You whimpered, rocking your hips against their mouth as they lapped at your dripping pussy. Their tongue plunged inside you, fucking you deep before withdrawing to tease your swollen clit again.

“H-Hange—” you gasped, hips jerking forward as their tongue curled inside you. “You—you feel so good—”

They groaned against your cunt, the vibration making you cry out. Their hands gripped your ass harder, pulling you down onto their mouth as they sucked your clit between their lips, tongue flicking rapidly.

You couldn’t stop yourself—your hips rolled shamelessly, grinding against their mouth as pleasure coiled tight in your belly. Hange moaned like they were the one being pleasured, their tongue working faster, their lips sucking harder—

And then you broke.

A strangled cry tore from your throat as you came, your pussy clenching around nothing, your thighs shaking as Hange lapped up every drop of your release. They didn’t stop until you were squirming from oversensitivity, your legs too weak to hold yourself up.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, your body still thrumming with lingering pleasure. "We should… probably get dressed," you murmured, cheeks heating as you glanced at Hange’s disheveled state. Their hair was a wild mess, their shirt unbuttoned, and their pants still pushed down just enough to expose the bandage on their thigh.

Hange grinned, lazy and satisfied. "Mmm, shame. I was enjoying the view."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your smile as you reached for your discarded clothes. Hange watched you with a lazy, satisfied smile as you pulled your pants back up, your fingers fumbling slightly with the fastenings.

"You’re adorable," they stated, their voice still rough. You shook your head with a big smile on your face.

As you pulled your shirt back on, you glanced over at Hange, who was struggling to sit up without aggravating their injury.

"Here, let me," you said softly, moving to help them.

You carefully adjusted their pants, smoothing the fabric over their hips before gently tugging them back into place. Then, you reached for their hair, combing your fingers through the tangled brown strands, trying to tame some of the chaos. Hange sighed contentedly, leaning into your touch like a cat.

"You’re good at this," they murmured.

You huffed a quiet laugh. "At fixing your hair?"

"At taking care of me," they corrected, their voice softer than usual.

Your hands stilled for a moment, heart swelling in your chest. "I… like taking care of you," you admitted, barely above a whisper.

Your hands lingered in their hair, your heart suddenly pounding for an entirely different reason. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, the weight of what just happened settled over you.

"...I really like you, Hange," you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Like, really like you."

Hange’s expression softened, their usual manic energy replaced by something quieter, warmer. They reached up, cupping your cheek.

"I know," they teased with a smile, laughing when you rolled your eyes. "I like you ,too. More than I thought I did, I think."

Your heart raced. You didn't even know where to go from here, but when Hange's hand met yours it put your mind at ease.

Then, from outside the tent, Levi’s voice cut through the moment like a knife. "(Y/N)!" Your head whipped around to where he was calling, seeing his short silhouette. "If you two are done defiling medical supplies, Erwin wants a debrief."

"Okay!" You called back, then turned to Hange.

"I'll, uh, check on you later, okay?" You said, turning to leave.

Hange nodded, stretching their arms with a sigh as their fingers ran through your hair once. "Levi definitely heard, by the way."

[yoongsriverandme]

𓈒 ꪆৎ PROM SONG (GONE WRONG)!

❝ At the gate, stop and say, "be my valentine"… ❞

⤑ pairing: kim taehyung x fem!reader

⤑ genre: fluff, mutual pining, idiots-to-lovers, strangers(?)-to friends-to lovers, "unrequited" love, secret admirer!au, college!au.

⤑ wc: 3.8k

⤑ summary: with valentine's day right around the corner, you somehow have to muster up the courage to confess to taehyung - but oh yeah, two things: 1. he doesn't know you exist, and 2. you're his secret admirer.

⤑ rating: g/teen & up audiences

⤑ warnings: none besides a literal sprinkle of light light angst, and a little cursing! everyone gets a cameo

⤑ date posted: feburary 14, 2025

⤑ authors note: AHHH HI!!! i'm so excited to be here! this is my first ever post on this account, and i'm so happy it's on valentine's day! i cooked up this sickeningly fluffy fic for my four followers, so enjoy!

𓈒 ꪆৎ masterlist

⁘ preface: i only use bts as face claims! they are my muses, so anything they say or do, do not reflect their real life character!

Valentine’s day.

A time where couples all over the world celebrate their love with treats, and dates, and cute little notes riddled with the cheesiest, loveliest words.

What a fucking chore.

Your school was cascaded with an ocean of pink and red, the halls drowned in hearts and sweet aspirations to encourage the young lovers that housed their classrooms, and the yearners that were thinking maybe, just maybe, today might be the day.

You smack a low hanging decoration out of your way as you walk, the small scowl that was forming on your face deeping because of the irritating spangle.

You didn’t hate love. That’s just stupid.

Normally the amorous energy didn’t get on your nerves. 

How could they? With all of your friends gushing about the holiday, it’d be fruitless to be miffed over something as trivial as that, and it wasn’t like you didn’t want your friends to be happy.

You just had a bad morning.

‘Bad morning’ means seeing the guy you’re… mildly interested in, talking to another girl.

Feelings of jealousy felt like such a frivolous matter, because what’s the point in being mad at something or someone that wasn’t yours in the first place?

You hate the way your brain has labeled Kim Taehyung as yours in the first place. 

He was well known around school, a fine arts major with a minor in photography, and quite popular on the internet. 

He had a big Instagram account where he’d post personal pictures of things that were monotonous to any other person: a half empty cup of coffee, a sleeping cat on the street, a wildflower that seemed to have held some sort of beauty to the eye of its beholder.

Not that you were stalking him of course, it was just an admirable feat.

It was clear he was going to go far after graduation, and that in of itself was the most attractive part about him; not to mention his unwavering kindness or his off-kilter smile that appeared more like a box than anything.

Taehyung was also unshakably loyal. You’ve seen his anger directed at those who’d hurt his loved ones before, and it was terrifying.

So, it wasn’t strange that he’d be talking to someone that he knows. That’s just the way that life works. People talk to other people, plain and simple.

Just not you, it seems.

It’s not like you run in the same social circle, and you’ve never really made yourself available to him. It was your own fault.

It’s not that you didn’t want to talk to him, you were just… shy.

He’s the embodiment of sun, joy wrapped up into a small gift of a human being; and while yes, he does pick up where you lack, it seems to be too big of a gap to bridge. So, you’ll stick to admiring him for now.

“There’s another one, hyung!” Taehyung calls out in happiness as you round the corner to the hallway that houses the lockers.

Oh, and that too.

The love letters.

It was a lapse of judgement in your opinion. 

You were vulnerable, and one of your closest friends had managed to weasel their way into your brain and placed false hope that sharing your writing would somehow win him over.

It seems to be half true, for what it’s worth.

You were prepared for the sheer amount of warmth to spread through your chest after watching Taehyung react to your love letters the first time.

It was very simple: “your art is beautiful.”

You had haphazardly shoved it through the slits in the metal locker before hauling ass to your next class. The only reason why you were able to see his reaction is because yours was only four lockers down.

It was hard to act inconspicuous when your hands were damp with sweat, every negative thought flowing through your mind at the same time:

‘He thinks it’s stupid’

‘He’ll throw it away’

‘“Your art is beautiful”? Yeah, not like he’s never heard that one before’

But the funny part about life is that sometimes, it goes the way you want it to.

“Wah! Taehyungie, is that a love note?” His close friend Hoseok, had sounded from behind him.

It had only taken Taehyung a handful of seconds to open his locker, watch the note flutter out, bend over, pick it up, and read it.

Your body went rigid, and the grating silence that fell the nearly empty hallway was deafening.

Then, “I don’t know.”

Hoseok looked over his shoulder, and his eyebrows drew together. “It’s not very long.” He speaks unsurely. 

“I know,” Taehyung’s words were then followed by a wide smile. “It’s perfect.”

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. 

He had called the notes perfect.

From then on, you hadn’t really written a lot, because there was so much that you had to say that you couldn’t really say anything at all.

You wanted to write more, you wanted to give him more. There were so many times that you would go to write him a note with more than a sentence or two, but you’d end up sitting there and just staring at the slip of paper.

Your compliments never seemed to bother him, because every time you’d seen him go to grab his books, he’d give a quick, ecstatic glance over its internal contents, searching for your note.

It was flattering.

So, you kept writing, and he kept reading.

But now that Valentine’s day was around the corner, you couldn’t help but feel like you should have been doing more.

More of what? More words? Gifts? Actions? Confessions?

It leaves you in a conundrum, because while yes, you did want to confess to him, you had no fucking idea how, and secondly, to address the elephant in the room, he had no fucking idea who you were.

Okay, yeah, your lockers are only a foot or two apart, and yes, you do share a class with him, but you’ve never talked to him before. You’re lucky he would even remember your name because of attendance purposes.

You're snapped back into reality by a force slamming into you from behind, sending you stumbling forward and out from behind the corner you had been standing behind.

You let out an unattractive yelp, and your headphones had been ripped out of your ears and tumbled to the floor along with your phone.

You don’t even have time to blink before one Jeon Jungkook is in your field of vision, apologizing profusely and stumbling over himself to pick your things up.

“Oh, God – I’m so sorry! I – I didn’t see you, and I just wanted to –”

You swallowed harshly, keeping your eyes downcasted as embarrassment seeped into every crevice of your body.

So much for good introductions.

You know he was looking at you, and you knew that the ‘hyung’ he had been talking to was dance major Park Jimin.

Kill me. Kill  me. Kill me – 

“It’s fine.” You spoke blankly, almost as if you were bored. Almost as if you weren’t about to spontaneously combust where you stood.

You pushed out a hand, gesturing to him to place your lost objects in them; and he did, albeit hesitantly.

“Again, I’m –”

“Sorry. Yeah, I heard you the first time, and I said it’s fine.”

You finally look up, and you try to not cringe at the overwhelming amount of worry that’s etched into Taehyung’s face. 

Worry for who? You didn’t know, but you can’t help but risk a glance his way and his large brown eyes pour into your soul.

Dangerous.

This is exactly why you weren’t going to say anything.

“I’ve got to go to class. Just be careful next time.”

You rip your eyes away and turn around, abandoning your textbook and journal in exchange for safety. 

Safe from what?

The hardest part about sharing a class with Kim Taehyung was actually having to see him.

What makes it even harder is that he has been non-stop looking at you the entire period, and you can’t help but be a little self-conscious.

You shift in your seat, straightening your shirt, and nonchalantly wiping around your mouth just in case you might have saved anything from breakfast on your face.

It was like heaven had opened up when the bell rang, and you were the first one to shoot up, shoving your backup materials into your bag. You could’ve gone faster.

Just when you thought you were free, two sneaker covered feet encroached your vision.

“Hey.”

The deep timber of his voice shook you to your very core, and you paused briefly, glancing up at him even though it felt like cinder blocks were tied to the back of your eyes.

“Hi.” You breathed.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook.”

“I already said it was fine.” You sighed, putting away the last of your things and hauling the strap of your tote bag over your shoulder.

“It’s not, though. He shouldn’t have been running in a busy hallway like that. He could’ve gotten him or someone else hurt.”

Your nerves practically hummed at his fussing, but you forced it down.

“I appreciate your concern, and I don’t blame him for running into me. A lot of my friends are like him too. Excitable, quick to injure. Like a puppy.”

At your dry-witted joke, Taehyung cracked a grin. “(y/n), right?”

Even though he was clearly in front of you, hearing him say your name nearly startled you half to death. It sounded good coming out of his mouth. Too good.

“Yeah, and I know you’re Taehyung.”

“I’m sorry we’ve never talked to each other before, I’ve just been busy with, you know…”

“Your art and stuff, yeah. I know.” He seems caught off guard by the show of information, and you think that now would be an excellent time to chuck yourself out the nearest window.

“You know about my art?”

“And your photography.”

Wow, very inconspicuous.

“Oh?”

“I… think your work is excellent. You find beauty in the small things. It’s admirable.”

For a moment he just stares at you, and you stare back. For the first time since coming in contact with him today, you didn’t have the overwhelming feeling to run.

Maybe you can give him a bit more.

“What are you doing today?” Your breath catches in your throat at his question; had it been this easy all along? “Why?” 

For the first time today, you make him work for an answer from you, and you can see his grin melt into a small smirk. A sign that he appreciates the challenge.

“I was going to invite you to go out to lunch with me and my friends as an apology. Jungkook still feels terrible for almost tackling you.”

You wave off his statement. “As much as I’d love to, I’ve got a few things I’ve got to do today, but let Jungkook know that I’ll be around soon enough, so he can give me reparations then.”

Taehyung lets out a booming laugh.

“Alright, I’ll let him know.”

When you go back to your dorm that night, your hands practically shake with the adrenaline that your interactions with him gave you today.

You fumble to get out a pen, and instead of going for the half sheets of paper you had meticulously cut in half, you opt for a full piece.

You write what you’ve been feeling for these last few months; weeks upon weeks of yearning spill through your fingertips as you express your love for his laugh, how deeply enchanting his eyes are, how inspirational he is.

You write and write and write until your fingers cramp and you near the lower half of the page.

This. This was what you have been meaning to give him all this time.

This was the part of yourself that you were so desperate to show him. What you wanted him to acknowledge about himself.

In a corny show of vulnerability, you steal a heart sticker from your roommate and slip the letter – an actual letter! – into an envelope, sealing it shut with the glittering craft.

There’s rustling coming from outside, which means said roommate is home, and you quickly shove it into a random drawer in your desk for another day.

For the day.

You don’t expect Taehyung to talk to you the next day, or for the day after that.

He waves at you in the hallway when he sees you, comes to talk to you after class is over, and even gestures you over to sit next to him when he sees you sitting at lunch by yourself.

Normally you would take lunch as the time to catch up on a few things, the music blaring through your ears drowning out the restlessness of the campus goers around you.

You all but waddle over there, plopping down next to him a respectable distance away and fiddling with your jacket sleeve when your presence draws the attention of two of your seniors.

You bow at the waist in greeting of Yoongi and Namjoon, and they bow back, but you’re hit lightly with the back of Taehyung’s hand to your arm.

“Don’t bow to them, they don’t deserve it.”

Instantly, Yoongi’s sleepy demeanour slips and he hisses, swatting over at his dongsaeng half-heartedly.

“Don’t be such a brat. Respect your elders.”

You grin a bit, raising a brow Tae’s way as he cackles and leans back to avoid being hit.

“I didn’t know my friend was so disrespectful.” You find it in yourself to tease. It’s like a flip is switched in Taehyung, and he shoots you the most breath stealing pout you’ve only ever seen him give to the men in front of you.

Your grin slips and your eyes fall to his lips, watching them closely as he speaks. “Don’t be so mean to me, (y/n).” 

Your mouth flounders like an idiot, your gaze zeroing in on the beauty marks and imperfections that riddle his face. God, he was so beautiful.

Someone clears their throat, and he pulls away from you, and you spin to face forward.

You catch Namjoon’s knowing look and act like you didn’t see it.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s just butt-hurt that his secret admirer hasn’t left anything in his locker for the past few days.” Yoongi mumbles.

You force yourself not to cringe, but you can’t help but ask, “What secret admirer?”

“Someone’s been leaving Tae little compliments in his locker. It’s one of the things he’s been looking forward to, but the person hasn’t been by in a while.” Namjoon finishes for him.

“Hyung.” Taehyung whines, but it’s clear he’s been affected by the absence of your notes.

You had been so worried about the big bang that was ‘the letter’ – as your best friend had coined it – that you had forgotten about the compliments you were supposed to be writing to him.

But why would you write him compliments when you had the real deal right in front of you?

It didn’t seem to matter, though, because you can see the sad pull of his smile, how it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

You can’t take it.

“What if the person was planning something for valentine’s day?”

Three pairs of eyes land on you – suspicion, hope, and intrigue.

“Really?” Taehyung asks, but before he can answer, Yoongi goes, “How do you know?”

You flounder once again.

“I… I’m just making a logical guess.”

“Wah! So smart, (y/n).” The box-smiled man says in wonderment. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’ve been too in your head about some compliments. Idiot.” The last word is followed by a snapped flick to Tae’s forehead from Yoongi. 

“Ow, hyung!”

You know Namjoon is staring at you. No – not staring at you – analyzing you.

You know the older man had always been too smart for his own good, so you’re not surprised that he might’ve caught on this quickly.

You refuse to look at him, because as they say, “eyes are the window to the soul,” And you aren’t interested in letting the dragon-eyed man in front of you into it any time soon.

“Well good thing tomorrow is valentine’s day, right?” You don’t realize Taehyung’s talking to you until he nudges you with his shoulder.

“(y/n)?”

“Huh?” You ask intelligently, lifting your gaze from a spot on your table to look at him. “Right… right.” You agree with a nervous smile.

If Taehyung notices your anxiety, he doesn’t say anything, and you’re all the more grateful for it, though it feels like you're not alone with your thoughts.

That night, you prop the letter up on a stack of books and just stare at it.

You lean back in your seat, crossing your arms and staring it down as though it had personally offended you.

You can do this. It was easy.

Right?

You’re sick the entire morning, stomach swimming with something nasty as you tuck the offending piece of paper into your bag.

You’re just going to slip it into his locker, the same as you have every other time. The only difference is that your name is on it, and it’s up to him on whether or not he’ll decide to ever speak to you again.

It’s not the most foolproof plan you’ve ever had, but hey, a plan is a plan.

You tremble the whole walk to school, and it isn’t until you’re face-to-face with said locker that you finally feel bile start to burn at the back of your throat.

Oh God, were you really about to do this?

You force yourself to just bite the bullet and shove it in, but you’re stopped midway by a voice from behind you.

“(y/n)?” 

Your arms that were raised to push the paper through the slots freeze midair, the only thing piercing the silence is the sound of the hefty envelope sliding in and landing somewhere inside the metal container.

Taehyung is behind you.

Taehyung is behind you and he just watched you stand here and slip a note into his locker confessing your love to him.

Yeah, this plan was sure as shit not fucking foolproof.

“It was you?”

There’s something in his voice you can’t detect, and it’s taking you everything in your power to not haul ass.

“I…” You don’t know what to say as you turn around and are confronted by a slack jawed, wide eyed Taehyung.

You swallow the sand that’s in your mouth. Tears burn at the back of your eyelids at the thought of his rejection. Your heart already aches.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry… for leaving all those notes in your locker and for getting your hopes up… I –”

“Stop.”

“What?” Air rushes out of your lungs like someone sat on your chest.

“Don’t say sorry for doing something that made me happy.”

“What?” Now it’s your turn to be confused.

When he looks up at you, you can finally see the red hue that paints his caramel cheeks; he shares a nervous smile with you as he steps forward carefully, as though he’s afraid you’d disappear.

“I have a few secrets of my own that I think I should share with you.”

He reaches forward and encompasses your hand in his, and they are as big and warm as you had imagined they would be. They’re a bit calloused, but you figure that comes from holding a paintbrush for hours at a time.

“I… I’m really happy that it’s you.” He swallows and chuckles wetly. “I like you, (y/n). If you haven’t noticed.”

“But you don’t even know me.”

“Don’t think you’ve been the only one watching someone around here.” He’s smiling brightly and his teeth are so white they nearly blind you. 

“I confess that, I’ve known you for longer than when we first met.”

“What?” You ask again, but now you’re smiling just a bit. Butterflies swarm in your stomach as he speaks. They’re fluttering so fast you feel nauseous.

“I’ve liked you since the beginning of the year.” He’s staring at you dead on. “I… I remember seeing you and thinking you were so cool.” Taehyung laughs at himself. “And not just cool, but I thought you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“I would look for you in the hallways, I’d watch you sitting alone at lunch, and I’d watch you watch your friends. I thought it was always a bit strange how you never wanted to talk, because I know you have so many brilliant thoughts in your head.”

Your cheeks flush with an unbearable heat, and you express your shyness by squeezing his hand, and he gives you an answering squeeze back.

“I remember when you presented your project and being so enamoured the entire time. I couldn’t help but think about what else you had in that brain of yours. And then I remember thinking after that, that I would read or listen to whatever you came up with.”

“Then the notes started.”

Your breath catches.

“Then I got confused. Because here this person is, telling me how beautiful they think my work is, when I already have the most beautiful thing right in front of me.”

Beautiful. You.

“Hoseok-hyung grilled me so hard after the first time you had ever given me a note.” He chuckles once more. “He had asked me, ‘what are you going to do?’ and I remember saying, ‘I don’t know.’”

He licks his dry lips. “But I knew that I hoped it was you. That you were the one that came up with those sweet words.”

“I was content with watching you, and the flattery of the notes. But then Jungkook ran into you, and I knew my time of spectating was over, because I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to ruin any potential chance I may have had because my best friend was a bit of an idiot.”

You laugh at his words, and you hadn’t noticed you were crying until his free hand had come up and swiped at a stray tear rolling down your hot cheek.

“You were a bit scary to approach I admit, because if you had treated me the way you did Kook, I think I might have cried.” You cackle a bit. 

“But you didn’t and then now here we are, on valentine’s day –”

“Confessing to each other in the hallway.” Your own words made yourself cringe, but you can’t stop the cheek splitting smile that forces its way onto your face.

“Is that what we're doing?” He asks cheekily. “Is that what you want to do?” You bite back playfully.

“It depends on what that note says.”

Oh no.

“Ugh,” You groan, and allow your head to fall forward and land on a surprisingly lean shoulder. “Don’t read it around me please.”

“So that means it’s good.”

“Taehyung!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” A hand comes up to rub at your back comfortingly.

“But not really.”

You take the skin on his side and twist.

“Ow, ow!”

© yoongsriverandme 2025-26

[momentov1vere]

I present: some of my favorite quotes from Oathbound

+ my thoughts ! (not serious ones just what my mind was doing when they happened lol)

(spoilers ahead obviously!)

1.

“‘He doomed himself,’ Erebus says. ‘He knew what would follow.’

‘What’s more human than sacrifice?’ I snap.

Erebus’s eyes narrow.

‘What’s more human than risking what you have and what you are for someone else?’” - pg. 38

YESSSS I love this little selbree moment <3 Bree defending her loved ones will always be my favorite thing :D

2.

“‘You dance with treason today, Scion Davis.’

‘If treason is truth, then perhaps I do. Or perhaps I merely tire of your version of loyalty.’”- pg. 128

I’m sorry Nick I was unfamiliar with your game?? This entire scene was iconic for him I am obsessed with his character development

3.

“He can't see me, but I can just make out the glow of his eyes. His irises are green with fury, and I imagine what I would look like to him if he could see me.

A young brown-skinned girl in a long formal gown, striding toward him with her palms out wide. A girl with deep purple magic flowing from her hands to feed the structure encasing him. A girl raising that sphere into the air, levitating him from the ground. A girl trained by the deepest Shadow himself, her teeth bared in an electric grin.” - pg. 338

THATS MY GIRL <3333 I love this scene so much I LOVE BADASS BREE !!!!

4.

“‘Are you really going for that dagger strapped to your thigh, right out here in the open?’

My left fingers have already grasped the hilt. How long had he known the dagger was there? When did he notice? In the darkened basement? when we were pressed together in the elevator, torso to torso and legs to legs? ‘No.’

‘You are.’ Wonder fills his expression. ‘Look at you. Incredible. You’re a gorgeous, powerful, violent little enigma who would stab me in front of all these people just to make a point.’”- pg. 387

RAHHHHH Nick is literally the biggest yearner ever, wdym you have a wonder-filled expression when your gf(?) is about to stab you lmao I love them

5.

“‘The first time we kissed—actually, every time we kissed there was an ache, a burn, a. . .’ He shakes his head, shrugging helplessly. ‘I don’t know. Kissing you feels like a reminder that. . .’

‘That you’re still alive.’ The words leave me before I know them.

His eyes snap to mine, recognition flooding them. ‘Yes. Like climbing a cliff at the ocean, both feet solid beneath you, and peering over the edge. Not to jump, just to—to—’

‘Just to see.’ My heart pounds in my throat. ‘Just to. . .’

I can’t finish, but Nick picks up where I falter. ‘Just to feel. To know what it’s like to stand right where the world begins and ends. Right at the infinite.’ His chest rises with every breath, his blue eyes sparking into something raw and unguarded. ‘Kissing you is like touching the sky, like touching the horizon. God, Bree, it’s even like touching the—’

‘The fall,’ I whisper. ‘Not just standing at the edge, but going over. All of it.’

‘Yes,’ he says quietly. ‘All of it.’”- pg. 425

I was giggling and kicking my feet during this entire interaction breenick will be the death of me 😭

nick davis i was familiar with your game but i was unaware that you had THIS much game

6.

“‘I’m drowning in you, Bree. I shouldn’t want to. I should fight it. But I can’t.’

My eyes flutter closed, then open, I inhale a ragged breath. Exhale an answer.

‘So drown.’” - pg. 484

AHHHHHHHH

7.

“‘You had to fail, Bree. You had to fall.’

‘Why?’ I exclaim.

‘Because you had to rise.’ He steps closer. ‘A true leader has to know every side of her battle: the wins, the losses, the enemies, the allies, the good, and the bad. And she has to know who has her back, without the titles and legacies.’” - pg. 585

Valec casually dropping some of the best advice ever he’s so amazing; I liked him in Bloodmarked but he’s become a new favorite bc of Oathbound I think

8.

“‘Loving other people and losing them hurts. And loving them when they’re gone? Opens up the wound again. Now, I’m no expert, but I think the only way to live with grief is to seek its antidote. For me, that’s learning how to live my life without your mom in it and figuring out how to be your dad without her beside me, while remembering how she made me feel about myself. If I don’t do that, I’m pretty sure I’ll forget how to love other people altogether, not because I can’t, but because I won’t remember how. Loving folks is a practice, baby.’”- pg. 593

Edwin Matthews once again coming in swinging with the greatest advice ever; I always tear up when it’s a scene with him 🥲

9.

“‘Even when you choose yourself, you turn hope into something tangible for the rest of us. Even when you choose not to fight, you turn the tides. If you ask me, that right there is the soul of a king.’

‘Soul of a leader,’ my father adds.

‘A hero,’ says Nick, eyes fond.

‘An icon!’ Zoe shouts, grinning.” - pg. 607

Bree’s support system >>>>

10.

“‘What would I gain from giving up my advantage? I could simply order you to give my crown to me as soon as you arrive.’

I expected that question, and so my answer is ready.

‘You could,’ I say. ‘But if you do not, and you hear me out, you’ll receive something from me that I will never offer you again.’

‘Oh?’ he says. ‘And that is?’

‘My mercy, Erebus,’ I say. ‘My mercy.’” - pg. 609

badass Bree makes another appearance and this scene is going triple platinum in my brain 😁

11.

“‘Any chance you’d stay in the car?’

‘Nope,’ I say.

‘Right.’ He nod to himself as he unlocks his door. ‘Why do I even ask?’

‘Hope is good for the spirit,’ I say brightly, and get out.” - pg. 611

this one’s just silly but I love the little lighthearted moment before everything goes to shit ! 😁

12.

“‘Nicholas Davis and Selwyn Kane.’ Sel ignores Nick’s attempt to redirect him. ‘The sun and the moon. You are the warmth and the light and I am the bitter deep cold, or do it has always appeared. But we know the truth, don’t we, Nicholas?’

. . . ‘Does she know that the moon lives in you, too?’

. . . ‘She does,’ Nick whispers. ‘Just like she knows the sun lives within you.’ - pg. 621

brickwyn/selnick crumbs yippee!! but in all seriousness the nick/sel dynamic is so interesting and I will be obsessed with it forever even if brickwyn is not endgame (though this book has made me think it might be? they’re all so connected now it kind of transcends romance idk)

13.

“Love. Trust. Both a practice, I decide.” - pg. 625

this one is just great, I love Bree going learning from her dad but using his quote to create her own belief <3

ok thats all of them! I’ll have more after I do a reread I’m sure but for now I need to try to not go insane waiting for book 4 let this one stew in my brain for a bit !

[impala124]

Bad Buddy 12

My thoughts on Ep 1 | Ep 2 | Ep 3 | Ep 4 | Ep 5 | Ep 6 | Ep 7 | Ep 8 | Ep 9 | Ep 10 | Ep 11

Me, at the end of this episode:

Oh, we have a 4-year time skip!! Interesting.

Pat, where is the Nong Nao doll? I don't see it on your bed. I need answers right now.

I like the transition from Pat putting down his toothbrush to Pran picking up his own. Very clever.

Pran, quick question: WHERE ARE YOU? I see the view in the background, and that's one of Singapore's most iconic buildings, if I'm not wrong, which is definitely not in Thailand. So, boy, what's your ass doing in Singapore?

At least he's still wearing The Watch, so I have hope. Pran's a yearner through and through, so I expected nothing less from him.

We all agree that Max is hitting on Pran, right? Pran's not having any of it, though.

Poor Pat, he doesn't look too happy when Korn and Wai mention revisiting the old days.

Not the fucking elevator flashback 😭😭. Oh no, the curry Pran made for him after he confessed that he liked him. Man, this shit hurts!!

I, for one, am not at all surprised that Pat joined his father's business after graduation. I could've told you that on the day we first met him.

Sidenote, but why are these 22/23-year-olds lamenting about getting old?

Guys, Pa graduated from university and is making a movie!! My baby's all grown up now!! *wipes tears*

Ok, Wai and Korn each have girlfriends. How about instead of saving for individual dowries, you both just ditch the girls and marry each other? Just food for thought.

But why aren't they bringing up Pat's love life? Is it still a touchy topic? I mean, it's been 4 years, and we don't know what reason they gave their friends for the breakup, though, so we shall see.

What do you mean someone else moved into Pran's room? It should've been preserved as a heritage site. Contacting the people at UNESCO ASAP.

Ink and Pa are on my screen together. My boys might be miserable right now, but at least my girls are thriving.

A high school reunion, you say? If I'm not wrong, Pat, Pran, and Ink went to the same high school. Are they going to MEET at the reunion????!

Wow, Ink misses her high school classmates. Definitely can't relate to that sentiment, bestie.

Pat, sir, is that a smile on your face at the possibility of running into Pran at the reunion?

Not Pat looking solemnly at the memory wall.😭😭

THIS IS NOT A DRILL. Pran is here at the reunion!!!

Okay, so just looking longingly at each other is all I'm going to get for now.

"But some things can never change." Pat, bestie, change is the only constant in life. Fuck everything else and go get your man!!

Are you really playing a game at your reunion if the prize up for grabs isn't something like an accommodation voucher for a night at a mid-budget hotel??

Not the trip down memory lane😭. Y'all are in the same room; talk to each other and put yourselves (& me) out of this misery.

A live performance, you say? And PRAN IS SINGING. Now, don't tell me it's the song he wrote to soft launch his feelings to Pat in high school.

Yes, he is. Pat, are you listening? I know you're hearing it, but are you LISTENING to it?

EXCUSE ME! What was that sweet smile you guys just exchanged? I need an explanation!! NOW!!!

A group photo with them being pushed towards each other, which could be a metaphor for the string of fate always bringing them back together. Love to see it.

Pat, let me introduce you to something called a cab. It's really effective in taking your friend's drunk ass home, especially when your ex is giving you THE LOOK!!

Okay, Pat's on the phone with Pa (probably?) and is complaining about being hungry. You know what you should do, Pat? Go to your favorite noodle shop and wait for your ex to show up so that you can talk things through.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S PRAN ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR AND ON THE PHONE??!!! My brain is malfunctioning right now.

"You said you'd sleep at your house." What in the hell is happening right now?

Crisis averted, the Nong Nao doll makes an appearance on the bed.

Okay, Pran, I see you wearing your 'happy hour' shirt while complaining to your boyfriend (?) about Singapore's air pollution.

One thing about them: they are going to use the fucking sponsored makeup remover on the other. It's quite endearing, actually.

BB Product placement stays superior till the end.

I need an explanation, stat!! Are you still mad I didn't pick you up at the airport? What is that boyfriend-ass statement, Pat?

Pran just referred to Pat as his boyfriend. "We've been together for too long."

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY NEVER BROKE UP IN THE FIRST PLACE??!!! I need a minute to process this.

My reaction till now, everyone, is the fucking Kuleshov effect in action, with me thinking that both of them are sad because of their 4-year-long separation, when in reality, they are just boyfriends missing each other.

Aww, a memory wall in their home.

Finally, THE GUITAR PICK that Pat made for Pran all those years ago makes an appearance!

So, according to the photos on THE WALL, Pat actually visited Pran in Singapore.

I do hope we get a home tour at some point; I'm really interested in seeing how Pran's OCD self blended his life with Pat's messy ass.

Unknowingly, from two people who couldn't be friends, we became two people who were more than friends.

So, they lied to everyone by saying that they broke up and began Secret relationship 2.0

Not them holding their fucking pinkies together when they pass by in the hallway ASFDGHF—

Time and space are just a construct when it comes to me and my blorbos because remember what I said when they were dating in secrecy the first time? I told them that they should have at least one person they are both familiar with to be in the know about their relationship to maintain a successful secret relationship. And Pran IRREFUTABLY heard me because Wai, Korn, Pa, and Ink knew about them this time around. I bet Einstein didn't foresee this coming.

Aww, they even visited Uncle Tong and Junior after they graduated.

I love that the parents aren't still getting along, because in such cases where the rivalry dates back decades, it feels abnormal to not continue doing so. It's almost like sunk cost fallacy but make it about rivalry.

However, I do love the little detail of Ming having to back off during their car face-off because Ming was the one who stabbed Dissaya in the back, figuratively speaking, all those years ago.

Not Pran rubbing the shirt all over his body to ensure that his scent lasts for a while💀 My boy is an actual menace.

Pat, sir, what are you thinking sending thirst pics to your boyfriend AT WORK?

They even held their pinkies together in their high school reunion photo.

Oh, I'm a happy camper because all my ships are sailing smoothly. The irony of Wai and Korn running the bar (where they used to fight with each other on a regular basis) together is just 😂 😂

Wai and Korn are soft launching their relationship, and no one can tell me otherwise. See, Pat is also a KornWai truther.

Pa, sweetheart, Ink was pining for you since she was in high school. I don't think you need to worry about her straying.

Keep up with shoving your couple photos down everyone's throats, though, just because y'all are hella cute together.

Korn does look like a middle-aged Asian uncle when he is complaining about the rival faculties breaking tables. Oh, how the tables have turned.

Yes, Wai, it's your penance for all the mess you guys used to cause all those years ago.

"Guys, I don't mind if you want to fight, but you must get a lover out of the fight, just like me." STAHP IT

Pran went from ordering three wontons to four—that's how you know he's in a long-term relationship, accommodating your partner without any prodding from their side.

Pran's "I brought your dad a bottle of liquor" is a solid strategy. There is nothing Asian dads love more than receiving imported liquor, even if they don't drink. A sure way to win some brownie points.

Kissing in front of the trashcans!!!! Oh, how far they've come.

Ming once again being the most Asian dad to ever exist by just randomly flipping through the newspaper just to appear busy.

As much as I love to hate on his quintessential Asian dad quirks, he is the most relatable of bl dads for me. Is he perfect? No, but I don't think anyone can say that he doesn't love his son.

Ink is accepted by Pa's parents, which doesn't surprise me one bit because she's perfect. PERIOD.

The dinner scene at Pat's house is a callback to the dinner scene in the initial episodes, when the dad was telling Pat to not let the neighboring boy win at any cost. Oh, how the tables have turned! Now, Pat is trying to curry favor with his dad for the said neighboring boy.

MING TOOK A SIP. Told ya, Asian dads just can't resist imported liquor.

The question of Pran's guitar. Did Pat keep it with him this time around too??!!

Ming crossed the LINE to deliver the mail, and Dissaya saw it.

Awww, his mom put it on his bed, which goes in line with my theory about parallels between Dissaya accepting Pran playing the guitar and him loving Pat. So, I'll be taking this as silent acceptance from her regarding their relationship.

I think both of them are ready to bury the hatchet, TO AN EXTENT, for the sake of their kids happiness.

Going off on a tangent for a bit, but bear with me. Let me take a moment to thank @respectthepetty for training me into thinking of love whenever I see the color pink because, what was the paint color the fathers used to draw the boundary between their houses all those years ago? Yes, it was fucking pink. It means that the answer was love all along. They were MEANT to fall in love to bridge the rift between their families. Talk about 'born to be together,' which was the exact sentiment Pran wanted to convey through The Song in high school.

Now, Pat coming into Pran's room through the window is a clear callback to the time Pat did the same to return the watch after Pran saved Pa. However, then he did it to tell Pran to not act friendly towards him in front of others, and now it's to spend some time with him without hiding from anyone, even their parents.

"If not you, I won't allow anyone else to use it. Pran, when I catch you—

Not Pran, my resident menace, trying to wake up the green-eyed monster by mentioning that Wai may have used it before💀😂

Pran's dad providing the meta commentary with his "This show is just so good." comment.

Ah, forehead kisses, my beloved!!!

Man, the flashbacks to when they were kids overlapping with them right now are just the cutest.

Everyone gather around because I just had a very big-brained thought. Remember, in Ep 8, on the rooftop, Pat wanted to share their relationship with the entire world while Pran asked what's wrong with just wanting to keep it for themselves. What if, whatever happened with their relationship after that, was just exploring both their paths? They clearly tried Pat's way first because Pran cared about him, despite his worry, and it resulted in the Ep 11 ending. After that, they took Pran's way and we all saw how it panned out for them. It might've taken them four years, but their parents are kinda onboard with their relationship.

Now that we're on this subject, let me try to provide some context to Wai pulling down the curtain on their relationship. Not defending his actions, but me thinks it was very intentional that Wai heard Pran say that although he's worried about others finding out about their (Pat & Pran's) relationship, he's willing to take the risk because he cares about Pat more. Wai's vindictive ass heard that and went through his montage of Pran lying to me about his relationship with Pat moments in his head and decided to put Pran's words about caring about Pat more to the test.

We get a post-credit scene? Truly the gift that keeps on giving.

Of course it had to be on a rooftop! Wait a second. Pat's birthday is on 23rd April, and the first time Pat slept over in Pran's room is on 24th April. The psychological implications of it all (for me) can't be overstated!!

Pran, my menace-in-residence, was really showing his horny ass by saying, 'The winner can do anything to the loser.' Never change, bestie!!

Well, I got the house tour I asked for earlier. Fucking Architectural Digest could never.

They shut the door in my face, and I said thank you!!

Honestly, I don't think I've even processed the finale yet. It was very pleasing to my lizard brain, that's for sure. I need to sit with it for a few days, and I'll probably write something about my whole experience liveblogging this BB watch and my thoughts on some of the CHOICES made in the whole series. A sneak peek of few things that are marinating in my head are—

Pat associating Pran with home because he feels lost (I was only half-joking when I compared him to a lost puppy following Pran around).

The air of sadness around Pat that just goes unacknowledged for the most part.

Pran associating Pat with freedom because he feels burdened.

Pran feeling undeserving of Pat's love.

Like I said, I'll be thinking about them a WHOLE LOT.

Quick question: Were there any talks of a season 2? Because there are some easter eggs peppered throughout the series that deserve further exploration, and they definitely have issues they need to address and work through as a couple. This ending will only count as an HFN (happy for now) in my book. I'm putting this ending on par with the To My Star ending, and I adored To My Star 2, so there's that. Still waiting for To My Star 3, though that's a discussion for another day.

One thing I can say for sure is that I'm extremely grateful for the fandom that has welcomed me with open arms and engaged with all my ramblings each episode, because let's be honest, it was just a stream of consciousness.

I wouldn't have had nearly as much fun watching the series without you guys. I'll be camping out on the rooftop for so long that I'll be claiming squatters rights for sure!!!

Tagging the usual suspects: @shortpplfedup, @incandescentflower, @starryalpacasstuff, @7nessasaryevils, @greenteadumplings, @grapejuicegay, @madworld-bbs, @usodeshou, @tao-moonb, @fanatic-freakshow @desi-yearning.

[ghostly-bat]

jondami hc / au (adding to the Dr. Damian au)

So I've been listening to some of the song suggestions but the love me not by Ravyn Lenae song has been looping in my thoughts. I was thinking: while I hate the convoluted case of the volcano age up event but a way to keep it and smooth it over- keep the original age difference of 2-3 years, except the trip happens when Jon is 15 -> Jon is gone the whole summer, after everyone panicking and spending weeks trying to find him but to him, he's been stuck for 2 1/2 years. Damian has been going crazy especially, because thats his best friend & honestly it would be stellar if the timing of this concedes with the passing of Alfred, double whammy of two of his people are gone (supposedly)

Jon returns, now 17, and cue damian going into the fall season becoming as a college and both grappling their own griefs (Jon losing *two* years of his life. Damian grappling with the lost of Alfred and Jon, only to get Jon back). Damian taken time off from superheroing because losing his go-to partner and a grandfather figure too during his transition period of leaving the Robin mantle just... kinda made him freeze. He spent his summer, when not searching for Jon or mourning, throwing himself in volunteer work at a clinic-- discovering a new passion / distraction: working with people as Damian (Al Ghul) Wayne.

So anyways. Fall Semester. Jon always been bright, so its not that steep of an adjustment but he deciding on future and hanging around Damian as a result, bc his college campus is remote from the adults in their lives. Jon is also processing his feelings because previously he had this crush but now... it seems more possible. And this is where that song really inspires me? Jon trapped between being there as a friend, getting so many mixed signals (because Damian is starting to have feelings too but he's conflicted) and realizing that hm. Maybe this is #more?

And then its a slow burn. The two go through college, Damian speeding through to medical school, officially retiring from superheroing in his junior year. The two fight, forgive, date other people-- but theyre epitome "its hard to see you but I wish you were right here" yearners, so their relationships keeps failing. Jon picks up the Superman mantle as Clark begins his retirement transition. It's not until theyre in their mid 20s does their relationship takes off into the romantic.

Damian begins working at a clinic during his medical residency in an underprivileged area, becoming known in the area of his initiatives and quietly funding people's medical procedures who aren't covered by insurance. Jon visits often, and before long the two start rooming in the city -> oh my god they were roommates. Jon is doing his masters (i know people would say journalism but I was thinking Literature 🥹 with goals to be a college instructor in the future). Damian is the first confess and cue a much needed super kiss, lifting off the ground and all.

I have to flesh out more but 🙂‍↕️ these two would be the silliest will-they-wont-they, the kings of codependency even when they fight. Jon pouts like his mother but fusses about Damian and whether he eaten yet and maybe he should go pick up his favorite for lunch (but totally wont leave a nice little note and poem like he usually does >:(). Damian, when he's mad at Jon these days, is the master of silence treatment but... also he's doing little tasks that indicates he's still caring for him. Jon's suits are perfectly pressed. The kitchen is stocked with his favorite snacks. His papers and notes are neatly stacked, with the squeak in his chair fixed.

They both crack and apologize at the same time. Cue laughter and then a quiet "let's not do that again" 🙂‍↕️ they will argue again. They know they will. But in that moment, theres the relief of knowing the other wasnt actually mad and they missed each other SO much. This is during their slow burn era:)

!!?!! Anon if you ever write this I promise to give you one big fat kiss ugh! It's giving romcom and I'm seated 😤

[gyattgyattsorrow]

Alien Stage if the official covers were canon:

(I cheated a little but don’t worry about that)

I got weirdly invested in this so below is the au deep dive…

Round 1: My Clematis (IvanTill)

This is pretty in character actually. Just in a world where Ivan and Till faced off first and Ivan sacrificed himself earlier. To make this more interesting, I’m gonna go ahead and say that the romantic dynamics all change too, so Ivantill was mutual in this au.

Round 2: Unknown (Mizi)

So the script is flipped now and Mizi has a one sided crush on Till, which is kind of interesting. I love Mizi having a heavy rock song because with how she crashed out at the end of Round 5…you know she has the tough energy for it.

Round 3: Black Sorrow (Mizi Sua)

Im sorry. I cheated. Technically, Mizi does a cover of both Unknown and Black Sorrow, but that kind of just couldn’t work, so I gave it to Sua. I could see Sua doing Black Sorrow more than I could see her doing Unknown, so I went with this. Also, Sua taking Ivan’s place as certified yearner was much more interesting. Vivinos….please….i need you to let C!naH cover Black Sorrow….

Round 5: Ruler Of My Heart (Hyuna)

Both Sua and Hyuna cover Ruler Of My Heart, but I needed to get Hyuna in here somewhere so it goes to her. Hyuna manipulating the shit out of Till is not an image that works in my head…I’m intrigued no less. I do like the change of Hyuna being the returning contestant though!

Aside: All-in (Till)

For Till to do All-in, he needs to disappear during Round 5, which works out quite nicely. It’s a little tricky, but I guess this would just be like if Mizi sang All-in in the original instead of Hyuna. Till would be so badass as part of the human resistance!! He killed a guitar alien on stage so imagine just how psyched he would be to fuck up more aliens off stage!!

Round 6: Cure (MiziSua)

Here’s the kicker. So Mizi is sad because Till disappeared (same girlie), and Sua is still yearning. What’s kind of fun though is that this is still technically open ended!! Following the original plot, Sua would sacrifice, but it really just depends on future covers.

Ok now I’m gonna go rogue with how I’d want this to go…

So this really depends on the cover that comes out for Blink Gone, but I’m definitely for a Hyuna x Mizi cover for that!! Where this could get really cursed is if the cover comes out and Sua and Ivan or some shit. We’d have to start reviving some people…which I’m not complaining about like the less dead in this au the better.

This might have to change depending on whether Bl8M gets any covers for Luka because right now he only has Sweet Dream which doesn’t have any lore relevance. He probably wouldn’t do a cover of Blink Gone or Wiege either because…well he’s already on these songs…so if he gets anymore it would probably be one of the older ones in which case this whole bracket would have to change.

Anyway hope this spontaneous project was enjoyable!! Rearranging the bracket was actually weirdly fun, so I will happily take requests if that’s of any interest

[millersfinest]

untethered⁵ | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 10.6k

series: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five (you're here!)

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, r and ellie NOT beating the cheating allegations, more use of y/n then i would prefer, she/her pronouns, vulgar language, some angst (not on ellie’s watch tho), fuckgirl!ellie (kind of), the millers, r is a writer (she doesn’t write much in this ch wink wink 3.0), using fuck as a conjunction word, ellie needs the reader bad, a few arguments sprinkled in, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, r is very anxious, hella angst, the CAT may be out the bag (can mean many things), some adoption related turmoil, emotional cheating (from ellie), cute mother daughter moment, repressed emotions, lots of angst in this chapter, ellie is mean when she don't fw you, not a lot of reader x ellie in this ngl.

note: finally the 5th installment, hope it's worth the wait my lovely readers!!! i'm gonna be honest tho... this wasn't the most fun chapter to write (maybe cause the reader and ellie aren't as horny as i would prefer lmao), but the narrative shall prosper regardless of my feelings. this may or may not be the second to last chapter of this series. idk yet, i'm still planning right nowwww. i might post a poll soon to help decide. anyway, thank you guys for being super patient while i wrote this chapter, so without further ado... thousands of bisous ofc <3 and please enjoy this angsty ass chapter!!

Stood before you was a very disappointed looking Joel. His deep brown eyes squinted with fatigue and restlessness; arms crossed over his chest. At the alert of his presence, you shut your eyes trying to come up with some way to save yourself—even though there was none. It was laugh worthy, really.  

I don’t wanna assume nothin'… So, I suggest you start explainin’ what in the hell’s bell’s is goin’ on here.

You were unsure if his southern accent was stronger because of his disappointment, or if he just sounded like that when he was tired. But, either way, the question was valid. What the hell was going on?  

He called your name, snapping you from the rushing thoughts in your head. “Huh?” Those words came out of you more like a sound than words and letters. you were a child all over again, struggling under the fist of authority. Followed by a deep sigh, walking toward the counter, leaning your hands on the cool, smooth marble top. “Ellie and I are… Just catching up. S’all there is to it, Joel.”

He echoed a sigh, running his hand over his dark, graying hair and beard—he didn’t believe you. Not that you even tried to come up with a good enough lie that would be believable. “Now, Bug…” Joel began, shaking his head. “I know you’re not a liar; Tommy and Maria sure as hell didn’t raise you to be one—“  

“Joel, please—“

“If I heard what I think I heard… In that bedroom of yours. You and Ellie were doin’ a lot more than just catching up!” He whisper-yelled, careful not to disturb your parents upstairs. The man could barely keep eye contact with you, pointing his finger, accusingly. “She has a girlfriend who is in that guesthouse—“  

“I know, I know—“  

“Then, what the hell were you thinkin’?”  

You solemnly sigh, having your actions thrown back in your face. It sucked because he was right. “We… We have unfinished history. It just happened.”  

Joel scoffed, averting his brown eyes. “Things like that don’t just happen…”  

He was right—sex doesn’t just happen. There are steps that lead to that pleasurable event; it doesn’t just happen, and you knew that. But it was easier to say it that way. As if the two of you sleeping together, kissing each other was all acts of fate and prophecy. Something you had no control over. Even though, control was never stricken from you. If anything, you were always grasping for it.  

You chose to invite Ellie into your room, into your body, into your mind—you wanted her more than anything.  

That was something you couldn’t be sorry about.  

“Please, don’t tell my parents.” You almost squeaked out, looking up at him like a child charged with punishment. If Maria and Tommy found out about this, she’d have your head! And Tommy will be trying to talk her down—it would be a mess. At twenty-five, it wasn’t that you were afraid of your parents; you just didn’t want to disappoint them. “We need some time to figure this out…”  The fear that they would regret bringing you into their life weighed heavy on you.

With a raised eyebrow, he pursed his lips in thought. “Does Ellie plan on breaking things off with Cat?”  

“Yeah, not right away, but yeah.”  

“Not right away?”  

“Thanksgiving— she doesn’t wanna do it today with everything goin’ on. And they live together, so she has to arrange a few things…” You trail off, deepening your eyebrows with worry. “Oh, my God… Is she two-timing me? Is Ellie two-timing me?” Slapping your hands to your forehead, you squeezed your eyes shut. What the fuck. What the fuck. You repeated curses in your mind.  You were spiraling yourself into a stupor.

Joel walked around the corner, stabilizing you by placing his hands on your shoulders. “Ellie is many things, but she’s not a two-timer… All I’m saying is to handle this with caution. You’re hurting another person doing this—“  

“Fuck, Joel, I know… I don’t need the reminder.”  

“I’m gonna talk to her about this… About resolving this.”

You look at him with a pointed glare. “Resolving— there’s nothing to resolve. If everything goes according to plan—“  

He grunted, rolling his eyes. “Things like this never go to plan. Come on, Bug, you’re smarter than this… You know better.” Joel told, narrowing his eyes. He walked around the counter to you, to squeeze your shoulder. But that didn’t change the fact that his words stung.  

You know better.  

You did know better, but you acted anyway. Perhaps, it was a mistake; it was a mistake you were willing to ride on until it met its end. Which could be one of two things: complete and utter destruction, or… Happiness. Why was there such a large gap between those two endings?  

“Ellie,” He began, shaking his head, filling you with insecurity. “You know how she can be… Impulsive at times.” Joel pressed his lips into a line, looking past you, in thought. “I’m not even sure if she realizes the gravity of what she’s doing to her or you— not until it blows up in her face, which it will if you two keep it up.”

So, the both of you just had to work harder at hiding it. For now, at least.  

He rubbed his hand together, glancing his eyes up the stairs. “I won’t say anything to your parents… Just do a better job of keeping this to yourselves, please.” The older man prepared to head back up, but he looked at you one last time. “This isn’t me agreeing with what y’all are doin’— because I don’t. I don’t agree nor do I support cheating.” He exhaled, shaking his head, disappointingly. Feet nearing the steps to ascend back to his bedroom. “Just get it together.”  

Joel left you to gather your thoughts—but there was nothing to gather. Your mind was already made; you’ve already dug a hole for yourself. Seeing it through was the only option. Perhaps, the two of you had to shape up, though. Tommy even gave a side glance before you’d hopped off the porch to grab the wine; Ellie needs to be more careful. And so do you.  

Shutting out the lights, you heavily creeped back up the stairs to your bedroom. The dim bedroom that had the remnants of your lover minced in the air… And under your pillow. Grabbing your laptop from the charger, you arranged your pillows to support your back—that’s when you noticed the red and white striped boxer shorts Ellie left behind. Even though, you purposely threw them at her to put on before you parted from one another.  

Holding out the underwear that was marked with arousal, you threatened to smell it. Truly. But, before you could, your conscience got the best of you. Wasn’t it creepy to smell someone’s underwear? Let alone, a woman's... Instead, you stuffed it in the box you kept under your bed—which, very well, could’ve been worse.  

Feeling the need to tell Ellie of their pending situation with Joel, you logged onto MySpace. There was a small green circle that appeared on her icon. She was already online.  

BugsWritersRoom: Hey… Just ran into Joel. Not great.  

There wasn’t a much of a long wait before she responded.  

StarlightWilliams: duck what happened?  

StarlightWilliams: fuck*  

Her correction made you chuckle.  

BugsWritersRoom: He heard us. That’s what happened.  

BugsWritersRoom: We have to do better. Stop making everything so obvious…

BugsWritersRoom: At least, until you break up with Cat.  

There was a long pause in her responses. Longer than you’d anticipate her response would take.  

StarlightWilliams: noted.

Ellie’s response was dryer than you expected it to be, but the fatigue washing over you forbid you from investigating it.

Shutting your laptop, you nuzzled into your pillows with the auburn-haired artist on your mind. It was only right that you gave the relationship another chance; if it inevitably ends, you just hope it would be less explosive than last time. Amicable. Where the two of you could actually stand to be around each other after the fact.

If you had it your way, though, you’d never want to part from her again. It was easy to believe that Ellie was your person. Somebody who was only perfect for you. In a world of feeling nothing, she made you feel something more than lust or forced romanticism.  

When morning came, you were exhausted as fuck, to say the least. Awakened by your programmed alarm, and a blaring rooster that didn’t know how to shut the hell up after his first few yodels.  

Meandering down the stairs, you were told to speed through the morning chores, to begin help with the cooking, which you didn’t mind. However, Ellie wasn’t there for the spiel. Joel had appeared, saying that she was going to be little late. At the sight of him, you couldn’t help but be struck with anxiety. Although, he looked and acted the same as he always did.

Either way, you fed the chickens, groomed, and fed the horses—and that’s when she found you. Brushing Tokyo and feeding fresh carrots to keep him entertained and focused. He was a horse who only responded to pleasantries; Tokyo was a man of high honor. “Someone’s bein’ a good horse.” Ellie cooed, approaching you and Tokyo with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans.

There was something off about her demeanor. Her shoulders were stiffened, cheeks flushed enough to insinuate an altercation. In addition to that pinched line between her thick eyebrows.  

There definitely was one, but she wasn’t going to admit that to you. Joel and Ellie were officially on bad terms—but she said nothing about that because she doesn’t want to alarm you.  

“Where were you this earlier? I thought I was helping you get in routine for your new farmhand position…” You tossed the brush aside, crossing your arms over your chest. Ellie didn’t stop walking until her body collided with yours. Hand finding a comfortable place along your jaw, preparing to pull you in toward her lips. Placing two fingers over her lips, you pull back. “What the hell are you doing?” You chuckle, looking around for any unwanted eyes.

Her hands slid down you arms, shoulder slumping. “What part of we need to do better do you not understand?” You questioned, looking intently into her dilated eyes.

Ellie ran a hand over her hair, sighing, tiredly. “What is wrong with you?” You press, deepening her eyebrows.  Suddenly feeling the need to comfort her.

The truth was, she was stressed. Joel had stressed her out. He found out about them and was pressing Ellie to tell Cat about it—or break up with her because she deserves to know the truth. But, today, Cat woke up like the happiest person alive, which was off brand for her. She showered Ellie with kisses she didn’t want and hopped up to make breakfast for them. It was weird, but she was happy; Ellie doesn’t want to ruin that. She just wanted to linger in the happiness that was the memory of your lips on hers.

“I just woke up feelin’ funky— it’s nothing…” She looked down, twisting her foot into the sprawled hay over the ground. “A kiss could help my condition, though…” Ellie raised a scarred brow, lips curling at the end.  

Pressing your lips into a line, you look over her shoulder than yours—making sure there aren’t any prying or peeving eyes. “Just one…” You mutter, pulling her close by the material of her unzipped jacket. She smirked against your lips, moving them in sync with yours.

The tenseness in her muscles loosened and relaxed under your touch, as she released a breath of fresh air against your face through her nose. Placing her soft, yet calloused hand at the curve of your jaw. Ellie made the kiss deeper by dragging her tongue against your bottom lip, begging for more—but you pulled away. She chased your lips, causing you to giggle as you turned your face. “I have a full plate this morning… I could use your help— as long as you stay focused!” You prodded your index finger at her chest. “Plus, it’ll help for when it’s just you on the farm.”

“Oh, I can stay focused.” She crossed her arms, overzealously.  

“Okay,” You snicker. “Well, why don’t we split up to cover more ground?”  

Her features fell. “Split up? Hey, I didn’t agree to splitting up.” Ellie pouted, taking a step closer to you. Playing with the frayed hem of the flannel sticking out from under your jacket.  

Splitting up was the best course of action, so you could begin helping your mother in the kitchen—because you know she needs it. Unless Cat’s planning to take your place on that front. Anyway, them splitting up could help their developing case with Joel. You want to prove to him that you’re as smart as he think you are. That you’re not blindly love struck by a destructive idea—that the words he told you meant something. And, in a way, helping Ellie with her impulsivity.  

“It’s for the best, Els. You get to put to work what you learned these past few mornings— so it’ll really stick.” You spoke, positively. “And there’s another half of the farm that you’re inexperienced with… So, it’s better if I just run through it alone.” You nod with a friendly smile on your lips. Almost too friendly.  

“Hm…” Ellie hummed, peering around the horse barn.  

“I already did half the work; the chicken’s and horses are already fed. I’m, basically, done with grooming Tokyo— just detangle his mane and tail, and do that same process with Sarah, which should be easy because she’s still a baby and barely has any hair.” You rambled like a professional farmer. It truly was muscle memory getting back into the chores.  

“Wait, what’s the process…?”  

“There’s a bucket of soap and water,” You point to the bucket at door of the horses’ space. “Use that to help with the brushing and detangling. That’s the process. Don’t worry about the horse shoes— my dad does all that.” You waved your hand, then reached into your coat to grab the notepad. Ripping the thin paper from the rings, you hand it over. “After this, all you have left is the garden. So, whenever you’re done, come find me.”  

Ellie took the note paper from your hands, plucking it with her fingers. “Uhm, if I have any questions…? What if I do something wrong?”  

You sighed, snatching the paper back from her. “Trust yourself. You’ve done this before, Ellie. But if you have any questions… Here’s my cell. I have it on me.” You scribble down your phone number, handing it back to her.  

She giggled, taking the paper back. “You just gave me your digits…” Ellie teased, dangling the page in front of you.  

“For professional purposes only.” You winked, before leaving her to finish the horse grooming.  

When you skipped away, Ellie didn’t quite know how to take your place. After finishing up Tokyo, walking him to his open space to grift along with the other horses, Sarah was next. And you failed to mention that she was a bit of runner when it came to retrieving her.  

It’s been made clear that she was already fucking up—said by Joel Miller—so, she didn’t want to fuck up the only job she had. The job you gave her.  

So, instead of moping and overthinking the words of her adoptive father, she looked to that lined notebook paper as if it were the Bible. Ellie couldn’t let you down over something as specific as farming chores. These were living beings. If she failed to do this correctly, you may never fall into her how she hoped

Meanwhile, you hustled cows and goats, hastily. Rain boots splashing into mud and manure, leaving marks along its battered rubber soles. Tucked into your back pocket, your phone began to vibrate, sounding off the ringtone of your choosing. Without glancing at the caller ID—assuming it was Ellie. You pressed the phone button.  

“Calling already?” You raised an eyebrow, while monitoring the chaotic goats around you. They were competitive eaters who’d rather trample over one another to eat their food, than stand by for their own servings. You scold them under your breath, pushing them off each other.  

“You want me to come to dinner tonight, or not?” She snickered on the other side of the line.  

“Oh, Abby, hey… Sorry that was meant for someone else— it’s been a long morning.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, shaking your head. “Yeah, I still want you to come. What’s up?”  

Abby laughed, yawning. Did she just wake up? “When’s your family having dinner tonight— wanna make sure I’m planning accordingly.” There was raspiness to her voice that was soothing to your ears.  

Rubbing a hand over your forehead, you thought. It was basically undetermined, but you had dinner around the same time every year. Six-ish. Seven-ish. “Sometime around six, I think. What? You plannin’ on makin’ a good impression?” Pinching the phone between the side of your face and shoulder, you pulled one of the goats back from the trough by her back legs.

“Stop it, Frankie!” She bleated in response.  

“Was that a goat I just heard?”  

“No, it was Frankie— she’s worse than a goat. She’s, like, goat-fucking-three thousand— fuck! Hold on.” She placed the phone on a bucket, to stalk over to the problematic goat trying to fight her own sibling. “You’re pushing it. You are pushing it, Francine Miller!” Gripping the antlers that rose from her skull, you forced her to look at you. “This isn’t your food— that’s your food. Over there.”  

Picking her up, wrapping your arms around her stomach, you lifted her toward her own trough. That a few other goats huddled at to feast on their breakfast. “If I see you over there bothering your brothers again, I’m gon’ put you right back in that barn— don’t mess with me.”

You walked back to that bucket, picking up the small silver flip phone placed sloppily in the middle. “Sorry about that… But, yeah, sometime around six.” A tired sigh fell from your lips.  

“That southern drawl of yours… Getting stronger by the day.” She chuckled, in amusement. You heard her shuffling against cloth—perhaps, blankets and pillows.  

“The price of being around my family for too long.” You match her brief chuckle, twisting your toe into the dirt.  

“I’m certainly not complaining.” Abby commented, inhaling deeply. “Well, I’ll be there for six— unless you tell me otherwise…”  

“All right, sounds good, Abby.”  

“All right, bye, babe.”  

Babe.

The pet name made you freeze, but before you could say anything, she hung up the phone. You clenched you phone in your hand, gripping it tight enough for the blood to drain from your knuckles. Babe—since fucking when?  

A snicker caught your attention, causing you to swivel around on your toes. Her shiny, obsidian hair was tucked under a knit beanie. The medium-length blunt ends sticking out from the bottom, hanging over the shoulders of her jacket. A jacket that was sickeningly similar to one of Ellie’s—it most likely was.  

“Who’s this lucky girl… Abby?” She perked a slender eyebrow, brown eyes boring through you. Slightly squinting with taut features.  

You waved your hand before placing them on your hips. “A girl I met in the city. She’s up here with some friends— thought I’d invite her to dinner. She's the one who dropped me off the other night.” You explained, shrugging at your last word. After sleeping with her girlfriend, the least you could do was open with her.   

Cat leaned over the wooden fence, instead of coming inside. Her hands balling together in front of her body to keep her exposed skin warm. “Oh, really? What’s the status between the two of you? Since you’re… Inviting her to Thanksgiving dinner ‘n all?” She questioned, lips pressing together.  

There was something bitter in her speech that rubbed you the wrong way. But, nonetheless, you answered. “It’s complicated…” A laugh falls from your lips—fake and deceiving. “It’s been off and on for about a year— believe it or not.”  

“I believe it.” Cat chortled behind a fist. “Dating in New York is hard. People just don’t take relationships seriously anymore— I totally get it.” Her eyes rolled as she spoke, shiny lips curling at the corners.  

Awkwardly, you nod. Her tone alarming you once more. “Yeah… Well, I need to get back to this— the quicker this is over the better.”  

“Right…”  

“Are you planning on helping the parents cook, or…”  

She crossed her arms, lips frowning, slightly. “Yeah. Later, I’m helping Joel and Tommy with the steak. I’ve never really cooked steak before so… Wish me luck.” Cat chuckled, stepping back from the fence. “I’ll let you get back to work, though…” She began to walk off, after you waved, halfheartedly. Pausing in the well-kept grass, she looked over her shoulder. “Could you point me in the direction of my girlfriend? I’m sure you know where she is.”  

Hm.  

“Uh, yeah, sure— She’s either in the horse barn or the greenhouse… I would check the horse barn first.” You point towards the wooden paneled barn some meters away. My girlfriend. Did that not sound harsh? There was such diction in her proclamation for Ellie. It was an iron bar being burned into your chest, over your heart like a branding.  

She didn’t say much of a thank you, only a head nod and a wave. Leaving you standing in the same patch of mud you were standing in when she arrived. That interaction felt oddly tangy, rather than sweet—like usual. Of course, you had your doubts about Cat, but this time it felt different. So much different.

For another thirty minutes, you monitored Frankie and the other goats. Giving her a bunch of kisses to make up for your irate behavior—after all, she was behaving better; she deserved them!

Finishing your work, you didn’t realize until your stepped into the house—leaving your shoes on the porch—that Ellie didn’t call or text you about anything. She was supposed to meet you when she finished her side of the chores, but she never showed. It was too cold to wait around for her, so you trotted back to the house. And it’s not like you had her number; she had yours.  

In the back of your mind, you worried about the interaction she had with Cat. Why wouldn’t you? As the days went by, you were growing in possessiveness of someone that wasn’t even yours. She used to be, but that wouldn’t hold up in court.  

You noticed Maria working in the kitchen, working on small side dishes. Before you jogged up the stairs, you let her know that you’d be back after a warm shower. Cooking food while smelling like actual animal shit wasn’t a great mix.

Tommy had already put the television on the channel where the game was playing. The direct speech of sports anchors playing as background noise on the first floor--bouncing off the walls.  

When you walked up the stairs, you heard the soft tune of Joel strumming and tuning his new guitar from his bedroom. It soothed your ears—his playing always did. There was a song he used to play for you, and sometimes Ellie, when you were teenagers. Then, after while, she began to play it for you. Sat in the corner of your reading nook, in a t-shirt and plaid boxers (or whatever underwear she was wearing), strumming at the tough strings of her guitar. Looking into your eyes like you were unreal.

Everyone seemed to be doing something on this busy morning. And you were soon to jump right in.  

Steam opened your pores as you cleansed the dirt and grime off your skin. You attempted not to drown within your own thoughts while the showering. Echoes of your parents’ voices bounced around your mind, along with Joel’s. It was overwhelming. You feared they’d never forgive you if they found out what you and Ellie were doing—or had done. Then, there was Cat; a part of you felt bad for her. That she was getting caught in the middle of unfinished business… Clearly, your attempt at clearing your head didn’t work.  

Shutting off the shower, smelling like a happy mixture of vanilla and coconut, you wrapped yourself in a towel to walk to your bedroom. When you entered, you didn’t notice the frame of your estranged lover sitting on your bed—until you pivoted on damp feet. “Shit, Ellie… What the hell are you doing?” You gasp, clenching onto the material of the old beach towel you were using to dry off.  

Her back was facing you, eyes cast toward the paneled window of your reading nook. The auburn strands of her hair were damp, leaving marks on the shoulders and back of her grey sweatshirt.  

“She fucking knows…”  

Your eyebrows stitched together, trying to take in what the woman before you had said. Shutting your door with a sigh, you turn back around slowly. “What do you mean…?” Your voice trembled, wanting clarification even though you already knew what she meant. That hole that you dug was only getting deeper. Or, perhaps, not. It’s already reached max depth.

Ellie peered over her shoulder, the whites of her eyes unnerved. Freckled cheeks flushed to oblivion. “You PM’d me last night on MySpace…”  

“Yeah…?” You slowly approached her, shrugging your shoulders. Although, your heart was racing—beating throughout your entire body. If that was even possible.  

“When I got back to the guesthouse last night, I basically conked out, y/n.” Ellie told, finally shifting her body to see your stunned frame in its entirety. Water droplets dripping down your arms and legs; muscles tightening in anticipation.  

A hand shot over your mouth, eyebrows furrowing in remorse. If she went right to sleep, then someone else had been responding to you—and you don’t believe in ghosts. “Please, tell me you’re fucking with me.”  

She placed her head in her hands. “I wish I was…” Ellie bounced her leg, nervously. “Why the fuck would you mention anything that happened over the internet?” Her tone shifted, scolding you with the same pair of eyes that once caressed your skin with adoration.

“I had no other way to tell you about Joel. I was trying to warn you—“  

“Yeah, what a warning that was.”  

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Okay, hold on… How do you know about this? D— Did she confront you— or what?”  

She sighed. “She came and talked to me while I was grooming Sarah— Also, you forgot to mention that she doesn’t like to be brushed…!” Her round features were pulled taut, glaring at you.  

“I met her, like, once, Ellie. How would I know that she doesn’t like to be brushed?” You retorted, kicking out a leg, narrowing your eyes. “And… She’s a fucking baby. You should’ve expected that.”

“She said if I don’t admit what I did by tonight… She’s gonna fucking do it.”  

You bunched your eyebrows, shaking your head—utterly confused. “She’s gonna fucking do what? Wh— What is this, Ellie— fucking One Tree Hill?!” It was incredulous for Cat to make such a threat. Theatricals were never your choice of handling things. Hence the last time an explosive episode happened on the farm. You shut down and close off—it’s always too much!  

The auburn-haired woman’s feature slightly softened, looking up at you from her seated position.

Noticing the tensing in your body—seeing that face she swore she never wanted to see again. “Uhm, what did you say…?” You questioned, carefully with pinched lips and drifting eyes.  

“I said that I would…”  

Record scratch. Again. How many of those were you going to experience in a single week?

“Ellie—!”  

“To alleviate some of her frustration—!” She tried.

“I don’t give a fuck why you agreed to her stupid threat, Ellie— it’s the fact that you did!” You paced, squeezing the bridge of your nose. Thinking. Hard. Your voice had boomed, forgetting that the walls weren’t thick. “I will not have this random emo chick ruin the relationship I have with my parents… Because she wants to get back at you.”  

She leaned back on her hands, shrugging. “And you… She’s getting back at you, too.”  

“Seriously.” You snapped your head toward her, blinking with blossoming anger.  

“Dead serious.” Ellie held your eyes, courageously. She never liked seeing you angry, but boy, did it set her skin on fire. You were always so concerned with how people perceived you, that you avoided acting within your nature. Even though, in your truest nature, you were the most beautiful thing.  

You pointed a finger at her, strolling toward her. “Is this funny to you?”  

“Is there a smile on my face?” She retorted, looking up at you through her thick, batting lashes.

“You look amused—“  

“I am.” She simply stated, causing you to raise an eyebrow. “Because you’ve never changed, y/n. It’s always appearances with you— for everything.” You rolled your eyes at that, scoffing under your breath. What did she know? “Little-miss-perfect… Always has to do the right thing— not because she wants to, but because she wants others to notice that she does.”

Her words sounded familiar. More put together, but familiar.  

“It’s fucking pathetic, babe—“

“Get hell the out of my room.” The words came from you like a whisper with pinched lips, clenching your fists at your sides. Her and her name-calling.

Ellie stood up, chest nearly touching the towel that wrapped around you. Chest to chest. “Can you think about us for one second?” Her fingers tethered to your bare skin, dancing up your arms. “Cat’s makin’ our karma come quick— embarrassing us in front of our family. And, yeah, we did a fucked-up thing. I can admit and make peace with that because I wanna be with you.” She squeezed your shoulders, examining your tight features. Ellie reached her hand to grace your cheek, but you turned away.  

A sigh fell from her lips, pulling away from your body. “And all you can think about is your parents… What they would think?” Ellie scoffed, running her hand through her damp strands. “You’re an adult—! And you, certainly, made an adult decision to fuck me the other night— so this is your fault as much as it is mine.” She lectured. Ellie Williams was lecturing you. Oh, how the tables turn.

“Fucking stand in it.” The artist grit, pointing her finger to the ground. “That’s you’re fuckin’ problem. Always wanting to be perfect— but you’re not! Not even close.”

Tears began to build in the corner of your eyes, lips quivering at her words. Heart wrenching at her stern tone. “And I fucking love you for it…” Ellie appeared dejected, gliding toward your door. Adhering to the command you gave her: Get out. “But if your parents’ opinion weigh heavier… Fine.”  

A beat meandered through the room, while Ellie’s hand hovered over the handle.

“I realized… After Cat found me in the barn that…” She chewed on her lip. “I’m not ashamed of what we did— which is why I don’t mind telling the truth. It may be a threat for her but… it’s a release for me.”

A sob shockingly came from your throat, plopping onto your reading nook. The strength of your neck unable to hold up your head—it dropped into your hands to cover your face. “Please,” Your breath hitched, peeking through your fingers. “Ellie, please, don’t say anything. Don’t ruin tonight over something…Something fickle.”  

Fickle?

She deepened her eyebrows in offense before pulling open the door. “I’m telling them whether you like it or not. Shape up or ship the fuck out.” Ellie pushed through the door, making sure to shut it light enough not to cause a stir, but heavy enough to unsettle you further.  

To Ellie’s core, she was a pusher; a person who liked to push others—for better or for worse. Just depended on the day, and the person. Now, in her past, she’s made the mistake of pushing you into a worser version of yourself. And she almost did it again, but she revised her actions efficiently. She corrected it. Switched it around like a puzzle-piece placed in the wrong spot.  

You needed to learn how to stand in your decision—good or bad—and not cowering within them. There’s no point in begging for a person’s forgiveness once you’ve done something wrong. Accountability and apologies are all a person has. And your parents—pssh; you shouldn’t be worrying about that so much.  

Tommy and Maria loved you more than life itself, and Ellie understood why because she did, too.  

There was nothing you could do to scarlet letter your persona. Absolutely nothing.  

Even after titling the love you and Ellie embraced fickle; she could never turn her face from you— not for long anyway.  

Dragging her feet down the hall, old converse sliding against the wood, eyes watering with warm tears in the corner of her eyes; a door creaked open. An aged pair of brown eyes, pushing though the slot. “Everything all right, kiddo…?”

Slowly, she turned her head to look at him. Olive eyes attempting to blink back tears at the sound of his softened, gravelly voice. Sniffling, her legs carried her toward him, wrapping her arms around his soft abdomen, tucking her head into his chest.  

Nothing came from her but soft, stressed cries. Fingers clenching onto the fabric of his flannel behind his back.

As much as this situation was a lot for you, it was a lot for her as well—just in a different way, for a different reason.

In your room, you were still on that reading nook in your towel. Your body was was dry, so the old cloth scratched and tickled your skin. It was deserving for you to be uncomfortable. Ellie was right; you were a little pathetic—for lack of better word.  

You spent so much time wanting to fix yourself. Be the best version of yourself. And that wasn’t Tommy or Maria’s fault, it was your own. When you were first adopted, sent to a new school, you had a full out meltdown. Some kid had been picking on you for being quiet, and you escalated the situation to a place that it didn’t need to go. As in: using your fists to defend yourself. From then, you were thrown into therapy and had to relearn that fighting wasn’t the answer. Maria aided that by drilling into your head that violence was something that could get you into trouble.  

So, how did the way people perceived you become such a focus? Well, Maria’s scoldings of your behavior translated in your head—along with trauma of past foster homes and neglectful parents—that what people saw of you mattered more than your own conclusions. They thought, therefore you were.  

You failed to fact-check. You failed to have a personal understanding of your own behavior. It was rare for you to make peace with your own actions—good or bad. You were always stuck on what a person would think of you; especially, your parent’s. Perhaps, there was still a part of you that felt you needed to prove that you worth caring for. Worth supporting. 

That pressure continues and continues and continues to shove your head underwater no matter how many times your flail and beg for air.  

It was obnoxious. It is obnoxious. You’re obnoxious.  

Love isn’t conditional. It’s a feeling that tethers people to one another despite anything. Despite flaws and self-guilts—it perseveres. That concept shouldn’t be difficult to grasp because, after all Ellie had said on that one unfaithful afternoon, you still loved her. You loved her at seventeen, and you love her at twenty-five. Nothing has changed. Nothing will change.  

And the same applied for your parents to you.  

It was fucking physics and you were a prodigal humanities student who looked at STEM in contempt.

Solemnly, you dressed into a pair of comfy clothes. Attempting to replace the frown that stuck to your lips, although your body was already weakened from your emotions. Surprisingly, a cigarette couldn’t cure your overthinking mind—not this time. There was no point in pulling from one.  

After squeezing eye drops into your eyes to eliminate the irritated veins in your sclera’s, you stomped down the wooden stairs. When your mother noticed you, she smiled. Her sparkling white teeth glimmering in your eyes—warm and kind. “Ellie and Joel are gonna be baking the pie at the guesthouse… So, the kitchen is ours.” Maria chuckled to herself, kneading the dough for her legendary biscuits.  

“I know how much you hate overcrowded kitchens…” You respond, grabbing the apron with your nickname stitched on the front—Bug. She did a double take, looking from the dough in her hands. Noticing that unfortunate look on your face, and that blandness in your tone.  

Maria sighed, setting the dough aside, leaning her flour covered hands against the counter. “Not you, too… What the hell is in the air today?” She shook her head, averting her eyes to you with intensity. “What’s goin’ on with you— Ellie had just come down here with that same look on her face.”  

“What look?”  

“That look.”  

You pressed your lips into a line, looking around in thought. It was easier to lie and say something unrelated but that was fruitless idea. So, you said nothing, walking over to the cornbread she left out to begin working on the stuffing.  

Raising an eyebrow, she followed you with her icy irises. She then called you your full name, which sent chills down you spine.

You sucked your teeth, meeting her stern eyes. “Ellie and I had sex…” You mutter, peering down to your shaking hands.  

“What…?”  

It was difficult to say aloud to your mother, but that the rest came behind swiftly. “And Cat found out because I had a run-in with Joel— he heard, and I wanted to let Ellie know… So, I private messaged her on MySpace, but turns out, she wasn’t the one responding to me; Cat was.” You puffed air from your lips. “This morning, she came by to ask where Ellie was, so I told her she was in the horse barn. Come to find out, she confronted her, threatening to air all of our shit out to you and dad and Joel as a consequence.”

“Tommy, get in here.” She asserted to her husband focused on the television, keeping her wide eyes on you.

Another sigh came from you, watching as your father navigated into the kitchen. “After my shower, Ellie was in my room and that’s when she told me. We got into it a little bit… Uhm, because she told me that she was gonna tell y’all that we slept together and that pissed me off— because why would she do that?” You scoff, not noticing the glances your father was making to your mother as you unloaded this heavily detailed bundle of information. “How could she be so quick to admit that we had sex to our family that has known us since we were children? That we committed fucking adultery while her girlfriend was only, like, ten meters away—“  

“Honey,” Tommy tried, but you held up a finger.  

“Let me finish.” Your eyes welled with tears, looking at your fathers aging features. “I couldn’t understand how she was so okay with it, but, now, I do. I think I do…” You glance between the two people hovering around you. “The only reason why I came up with the idea— yeah, I’m the one who came up with it… To hookup. Sue me— was because I wanted to see if what was happening between us was real. And it fucking was!”  

“I know what we did was wrong. I knew it was wrong when I decided to go through with it… I begged Ellie not to say anything— which is ironic considering I’m the one talkin’.” You chuckled, wiping a warm tear that slipped from your eyes. “I was afraid of what you guys would think of me. That you wouldn’t love me anymore because of what I did— because you didn’t raise a liar…” Pausing, you released a shaky breath. “Verbatim: she told me to shape up… Or ship the fuck out. I chose the latter because… You didn’t raise a coward either.”  

They blinked at you.  

“I love Ellie. I really do, and yeah, we should’ve gone about this differently— but we didn’t. And I’m sorry.” Curtly, you nodded your head, adjusting your shoulder to stand up straighter. “I’m so grateful that you guys are my parents— you chose to be here and support me. The least I can do is be honest with you. Even if that results in your disappointment.”  

The tears had dried up in your eyes sometime amid your ramble of humility. Confidence growing with every word that you spoke. Ellie’s words rang through your skull about your consistent jig of morality. Fuckup’s don’t make you nor should they break you.  

Shit happens!

Their quietness made you tremble out of that shell of confidence you manifested, making you breathe a little heavier and feel a little more uncomfortable within your skin. You watched as they looked at each other. Maria sporting a mixture of concern and disappointment on her features—more disappointment than concern. And, Tommy, the complete opposite.  

“You know, what? I’ll let you two… Sit on this.” You walk past them, toward the fridge. In the door, there was both glass bottles and cans of beer—Miller Lite and Heineken. You grabbed the green glass bottle by the neck, “I’m gonna have a beer…” Walking toward the back door with horse barn on your mind.  

It was like a weight lifted off your shoulders after you confessed. Being honest with your thoughts about the whole situation made you feel lighter—feather allowing the wind to guide her, type of light. It was freeing to stand in her truth.

The cool breeze of autumn bit at your exposed arms, and the sliver of skin between the hem of your top and the hip line of your sweats. But because you were riding on the high of your confession, you didn’t feel the chill. You never were much of a beer person—it never made sense for you to drink. Yeast was never your thing, but after your confession, you had a craving for it. The beer, not so much the yeast. You overcame something big—you cried yourself into a new you. A better you.

And not that surface-better person you were trying or pretending to be.  

When you arrived at the barn, you didn’t forget to pet the grazing horses near you before entering. Remnants of Ellie’s work lingered around, but there was no sight of her. Perhaps, it was for the best. Reaching for one of the bridles hanging on an iron hook, you used the belt to pluck off the tin cap that topped the bottle.  

Settling in scattered hay, you plopped onto the ground, taking a large sip. Gritting your teeth at the flavor—still, wasn’t much of a fan. Although, she lingered close to her mother, Sarah began to drift toward you. Curiosity ruling her developing brain. You reached out to her, scratching the short tufts of her blonde hair.  

She leaned into your hand, huffing air from her nostrils. It made you smile, her comfortability with you after knowing her for such a short time. “Oh, Sarah…” You sighed, wistfully.  

From behind her, in the distance, you see your mother’s figure approaching you. You take in a nervous breath, preparing for her, potentially, harsh words.  

Maria’s boots crunched along the sprawled hay, taking her time to sit beside you. Leaning her against the same wooden wall you did. She ran her hand through her short blonde hair, sighing as her shorter pieces of her hair fell right back into place. “If…” She began, thoughtfully. “I’ve ever given you a reason to think that I— we could ever stop loving you, y/n; that was my mistake. I wanna start there. Out of everything that you said in there… That’s what disappointed me most.”  

Your eyes flicker to hers, briefly. Sarah had retreated back towards her mother. “Yeah, I must admit… I don’t wanna see my daughter, my kid, doing something worth regretting— no parent wants to see that.” She shook her head, glancing back at the horses. “And, yes, I am disappointed that you did something of this nature… But I know your heart, honey.” Maria reached her hand to your bent knee, caressing with her thumb.  

The heat in your cheeks and eyes increased with emotion. “I’ll never forget that look on your face when we surprised you with those papers.” She smiled at the memory, and you leaned into her as if it were muscle memory. “You were… Relieved. And, from that day forward, Tommy and I promised to do right by you. To love you how you deserved to be loved— to prove that you deserved to be loved despite what the world had already managed to convince you.”  

You wrapped your hand around the one on your knee while tears dripped from the corners of your eyes. “You think something like this would change my mind?” She looked down at you leaning her shoulder.  

“Yeah… I guess…” You insecurely blinked at her. Feeling like the very thirteen-year-old she was referencing.  

The blonde woman shook her head, placing a hand on your cooling cheek. “Well, that’s the farthest from the truth, Bug.” Her lips plotted against your forehead, comfortingly. “Your father and I will love you until we’re cold in the ground—“  

“Mom, don’t say that.” You whined, sniffling.  

“Probably, beyond that—“  

“Mom!”  

She snickered, peeling the beer from your fingers, and taking a sip for herself. “I don’t know how they tolerate this stuff.” Maria grimaced, shaking her head, setting it aside. “So… What’s the course of action now that everybody knows this big secret?”  

You pull from her, leaning your head against the wall. “I don’t know…” You sighed, shutting your eyes. “Ellie is pissed at me—“  

“For…?” She perked a slender eyebrow.  

“Because… I called our situation fickle to get her to not say anything, but clearly, that didn’t work.” You shook your head. “I guess, I’m the impulsive one now.”  

Maria hummed. “Looks like you have a lot to clear up.”  

You inhaled, peering at her. “Looks like it.” With another breathy sigh, you shook your head.

“Fuck, and Cat.” You slapped your hand against your forehead.

“Ah. You know, she has every right to be upset?”  

“Of course, I do. But, to be fair…”  

“Nope—“  

“Ellie came up here to get away from her— that’s what she told me!”  

Your mother scolded you, calling you by your full name—because that was her super power. But, you ignored her, sitting up straight to prove your point. “She was living in the biggest, most creative city in the world and felt crowded? How does that make sense?”  

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Maybe… Maybe this is what they needed.” You shrugged.  

Maria stood to her feet, offering you a hand. “Let’s not get caught up in the little details— you have some apologizing to do.”  

“Ugh! I know, I know…” You took her hand, hopping to your feet. She bent down, picking up the beer bottle by the throat.

“But before that, you need to cover up those arms, and get to work in that kitchen— because, we have guests.” As your mother ushered you back into the house, you dragged your slippers against the ground, finding your way back inside the house with a newfound comfort.

Almost an hour earlier, the guesthouse was bluntly silent. Nothing but the slight huffing of Joel kneading dough and the crunching of breadcrumbs from Ellie. There wasn’t much conversation; only the actions of their priorities fr dinner. Cat had locked herself in the bedroom, probably, plotting her next attack.

Joel made a point to keep his eyes on Ellie—and Cat—to make sure nothing crazy happened. Cheating situations made people a little tense at times.  

“So… Ellie, what song are you planning on playin’ tonight?” He tried, beginning to roll out the dough; flat to place in the round tin pan.  

She sighed, glancing at him with a dismissive glare. “I’m not playin’ tonight…”  

“Come on, it’s tradition—“  

“Fuck, tradition! I’m not doing it. Can we move on?”  

He huffed, placing the wooden roller on the floured counter. “I think you need to cut her some slack, kiddo. She didn’t mean to—“  

“I don’t care what she meant—“  

“Can you let me finish?” He raised an eyebrow, pointing an index finger that was caked with white flour. Ellie bunched her lips together, rolling her eyes. “Now, Ellie, I know you’re upset with y/n, with how the situation panned out— I get it. But don’t let your frustration cloud your judgement.” He told. “I spoke to her long before you did. I don’t believe for a second that she truly thinks that your relationship is fickle.”  

He inhaled, scratching the back of his neck. “Sometimes we say things that we don’t mean— I’m sure you know about that.”  

She ran her tongue over her lips, tapping her foot against the floor. Thinking back to a few years ago when she exploded on Joel and you. Ellie was good for that—saying things she didn’t mean. “I mean, I’ve said a few things to Tommy in my day.”  

“Joel…” She shook her head. “I don’t even know if it’s that alone— I…” Ellie struggled to verbalize, gesticulating with her hands and fingers as words attempted to materialize behind her teeth. “She’s always choosing her parents over me— over everything and everyone. Really, it’s doing her a disservice—“  

The artist began to rant like her life depended on it. Of course, in a low enough tone where her girlfriend in the other room couldn’t hear. Joel just watched a listened, as her features contorted with annoyance. But, within her big, earthy eyes, Ellie told on herself. Her claims didn’t come from hatred, or even contempt—it came from her adoration of you.  

In the corner of the room, relied the piece she’s been working on since the day of her arrival, or rather, the night of. It was no longer covered with a white, paint-stained sheet. Her work had been exposed to the light due to a quick argument between her and Cat before Joel came to save the day. It was a colored-in image of you in front of that old shed. A joint rested between your index and middle finger with a look of relaxation was on your smoothly stroked features. Ellie made sure to depict you in your most comfortable state.  

If only he could see her sketch book.  

“Ellie, you have to break up with her.”  

She paused, mid-sentence. “What?”  

“Matter of fact, you need to break up with Cat— now.”

Uncomfortably, she shifted on her bare feet. “But… The pie…”  

He chortled, averting his eyes to the art piece at the corner of the room. “Priorities, Ellie. Priorities.” Joel leaned his hip against the marble counter. “Go in there, break up with her— as kindly as you can. Then, offer to drive her to the train station. If she declines, insist. If you go now, you should make it back before dinner. You know Maria will have a cow if you’re late.”

Briefly, she thought to herself. Ellie was never the type to be afraid of confrontation—she may have hesitated a few times… But she was never afraid. She never expected her actions to be thrown into her face so quickly, though. The memory of Cat approaching Ellie in that barn sent chills down her spine, because she had an inkling that something was wrong the minute she had appeared. Her dark brown eyes were squinty and boring through her as she approached. At first, Ellie didn’t notice Cat’s slender frame walking up to her—as she were hyper-focused on tending to the small, blonde-haired foal.

They have been together for nearly a year, so of course, the freckled artist knew when she was truly upset. Cat was a woman of subtly, despite her tattoos and silver piercings. Her anger pressed through with an even tone, and a stiff posture; rather than, expression through loud voices and firm fist curls. They are polar opposites in that way. That is what originally attracted Ellie to her—but in that moment, she shivered.

It was like whiplash, comparing how she woke up to how she appeared in front of Ellie in that moment. Making her wonder, if that happy act was all lie? It most certainly was.

Cat somehow surpassed a level of straightforwardness that Ellie was comfortable with, telling her exactly how it was: Why she made breakfast for her this morning, the MySpace conversation (why she pretended to be her), her certainty of her infidelity, and the official threat that set everything off the rails. Easily, her intention was to embarrass Ellie and you. She sensed the timidness that you hid behind and wanted to use it against you. She assumed, based off the history between you and Ellie, that the only way for Ellie to be affected is to make an example of you. However, she imagined that it would be more difficult for her girlfriend to confess her actions first.

You weren’t particularly obvious with what happened between the two of you, but she would have to be stupid to not assume that it was a sexual thing. But when Cat approached Ellie with the statement: You told me you were going on a run. She didn’t expect to be met with immediate truth. Her olive eyes had grown wide for only a second, before words began to just flood from her like an open dam. Ellie couldn’t stop herself.

Perhaps, it was the complaints of you echoing in her head. Your fervent concerns about going back to Cat—it made her feel guilty; so, she confessed as if she were bribed to tell the truth and was content with the consequences. All the while, brushing the soft, blunt hairs of Sarah.

Ellie assumed that was why Cat made a threat to support her dominance. That made her hesitate a bit—admitting to her family that her and an old flame, that ended horribly in their teenagerhood, had secret sex in the middle of the night? Despite having a girlfriend—who could ever do such a thing?

Apparently, Ellie.

Straightening her shoulders, she didn’t back down, though. She took full accountability for her behavior, claiming that she would be the one to tell them what she did—although, she did find that to be dramatic. It wasn’t until Ellie was checking off the chores list in the garden, when she realized her fate had a drastic connection to you.

You weren’t the type to stand tall in defeat or mistake. When the things you did wrong were brought to you, you quivered and coward away because it made you feel more than you preferred. Faulty. It made you want to sequester—the total opposite of Ellie.

She could never forget how you hid away after the fight on her seventeenth birthday. You didn’t go to school for a week. Ellie offered to bring you schoolwork, like the waving of a white flag, but you declined—or, rather, your parents declined. One of your academic friends made visits to the farm every day to give you the missing work. For a moment, after not hearing from you, Ellie thought you moved abroad or something. You were the closest thing to a true hermit.

That worried her because this is the last thing you’d ever want to admit, and it was Ellie’s fault. She may not have felt a lick of regret for loving on you like she used to, but she felt bad for putting you in a situation you couldn’t seamlessly get out of. It was a nightmare to see you flail, but the only way out is through. Ellie learned that a long time ago. Maybe, it was your turn to reassess that motto.

The only way out is through.

So, Ellie made her way to the bedroom they shared, knocking before she entered.

Cat had her back propped up against the wooden headboard; a pair of headphones covering her pierced ears as she typed on her own computer. Her bags were packed and ready in the corner of the room—that’s what she spent her time doing this morning… Packing her bags. When she wasn’t issuing theatrical threats. That’s already one concern out the window. She was ready to ship out. When she noticed Ellie, her soft features fell.

“You’re already packed…” She acknowledged, rocking on her bare feet. Cat removed her headphones with a sigh. “Let me take you to the train station—”

“Before you tell your family that you boldly cheated on your girlfriend? I don’t think so.” She dismissed, tilting her head to the side. “If this is your way of getting out of—”

Ellie groaned, slapping her hands against her thighs. “I’m not trying to get out of anything, Cat. I just don’t want you paying a fucking grand to get back into the city.”

“What do you care?” Cat challenged, setting her laptop aside. “Hm? You told me that I had nothing to worry about. That’s what you said… Turns out that was a stupid fucking lie.” She ground out, pressing her lips into a disappointed line. A cruel laugh came from her, while she shook her head in disbelief. “And now, you’re saying you care about how much I’m spending to get back home? Are you fucking with me?”

“I’m not. It’s the least I could do—”

“No… The least you could’ve done was not fuck y/n—that’s the least you could’ve done.” The scorned woman argued, meeting her eyes with intensity. “I’m not going anywhere until I see the looks on Mr. and Mrs. Miller’s faces when they find out what the two of you did— I have a feeling it’ll be memorable.”

The freckled artist found her attitude to be draining, even if it was sensical for her side of things. Her fingers rubbed between her eyebrows. A raspy sigh fleeing from her throat. “Look, I get you’re upset, Cat. But dontcha’ think you’re doing, I don’t know, too much?”

“You think this is too much?”

“Uh, yeah, I do. I said I’d tell ‘em what happened— that should be enough for you.”

Scoffing, she threw her legs over the mattress. “You expect me to believe the woman who cheated on me? How didn’t I know you were this idiotic before?” Cat scoffed, dryly.

She deepened her eyebrows at the insult, gritting her teeth. “You know, what? I’ve been really struggling to keep my mouth shut… But, clearly, there’s no point.” Ellie huffed, blinking her eyes. Perhaps, it was time for her to know the truth on why Ellie wanted to go home for a while. Her stiff words got Cat’s attention, causing her to narrow her dark eyes. “That whole thing about me having a hard time in the city with my art— yeah, that was because of you, not because of fucking Brooklyn.” The woman admitted, releasing the tension in her shoulders. “Truth is, your endless support did nothing but drag out my lack of inspiration—you made it worse! What I needed was to get out of that goddamn apartment, not get out of the city.” She continued, pacing around the room. “From the moment I saw her… Inspiration fucking flooded my psyche— all I could see was her. Her face. Her voice. Her body. She did more for me in second than you ever did for me in the year we’ve been together.”

She ran a hand through her hair, scoffing. A boyish smirk spreading onto her plush lips. “Who’s the fuckin’ idiot now?” Ellie muttered, flickering her earthy eyes toward her shocked expression.

A beat plotted in the environment, feasting on the spreading tension in the room.

That was mean; she matched her cruelty and then some. Ellie shouldn’t have, but she was only human. A human who just made her girlfriend—sorry, ex-girlfriend—cry. Her thin eyebrows pushed into a harsh furrow, tears streaming shown her flushed, hot cheeks. Her fingers danced in front of lips, trying to keep her sorrowful whines from being heard. It wasn’t working. Cat cried like a hurt dog, stuffing her face in her hands at Ellie’s restriction of consolation.

With crossed arms, Ellie looked down at from across the room. Family was one of the most important things to her. Despite her youthful, abrasive attitude, Joel decided to contractually tie himself to her—her adoption. But, even before then, she’s been a divine part of the Miller family. They meant a whole lot to her, you, more so. The fact that she was so willing to draw a wedge between the lot of you… Frankly, it disgusted her. It was repulsive.

“You have every right to be upset. I can’t take that from you.” She let up, lifting her eyebrows. “If anything… What I do regret is pulling you along this far out of convenience. To be honest—”

“Haven’t you been honest enough? Fuck, Ellie.” Cat blurted, peeking over her shoulder.

Her feelings might have been hurt; a simmering flame awaiting the impulsive pressure of Ellie’s old converse. The auburn-haired woman sighed, taking a seat on the bed. Away from Cat, not only to convey her sincerity in her processing words, but to respect Cat’s wired emotions. “I’ve kept enough from you, kitty Cat. My honesty is my apology…” Ellie casted her down-to-earth irises to the side of Cat’s face. When she turned to meet Ellie’s eyes, her smudged eyeliner and mascara became a spectacle. “And my good-bye…”

Cat scoffed in pure offense. “You do not get to break-up with me when you’re the one who fucked up.”

“Well, if you wanna be the one to call it… Then, feel free.”

“No!” She grit her teeth, more tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want to break up with you…” Her lips quivered.

Ellie chortled, leaning her palm into the mattress. “Uhm, one of us is gonna have to do the breaking, Cat.”

They apparently have walked themselves into an impasse. To make a decision, or to not make a decision—that was the question. The response, the answer, was far simpler than Cat was making it, though.

Sighing, the freckled artist looked to the side. Ellie could use this to her advantage—getting her on that train back to the city. “You don’t have to right now…” She began to offer. “How about you mull it over on the way to the train station? I still don’t mind driving you there.” Her fingers fiddled with themselves, hoping she’d finally accept her invitation to leave.

She looked at her frowning, blinking away her tears. “Fine…” Cat stood to her feet, wiping her makeup-stained cheeks with the backs of her hand. “Why don’t you be a doll and bring my bags to the truck. It’s the least you could do.” Before Ellie could respond, she walked into bathroom and locked herself behind the door.

Releasing a long breath of relief, Ellie got up from the bed. As silently as possible, she pumped her fists into the air. Cat was leaving with only a little bit of resistance. That whole dramatic scene she was hoping for wasn’t happening—thank God!

Ellie stuffed her feet into her sneakers, before grabbing her rolling luggage and bag, hoisting the large purse over her shoulder. She left the bedroom, eyeing Joel on her way out. He was covered in flour and sugar, like the chef that he aspired to be. She gave him a thumbs up on the way out the door, snickering to herself.

Joel clapped his hands, forgetting about the flour stuck to his hands. It puffed into the air and down his throat, causing him to obnoxiously cough—away from the food developing in front of him. “Goddamn,”

Ellie peeked her head inside, pushing the luggage to the side on the small wooden porch. “Please, survive until I get back. Wouldn’t want another tragedy on Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, shut it, Ellie.”

She snickered again; her mood instantly heightened. However, as she maneuvered off the porch, her eyes caught sight of you and your mother. Maria’s arms were around you, guiding you toward the house. You didn’t have a jacket on and sported a pair of slippers—you weren’t dressed for the brisk afternoon air, dragging your feet against the ground. Ellie had stopped in her tracks. Shoes crunching on bumpy gravel. She couldn’t help but wonder what led you out the house. Was it her? Did she unnerve you so bad that you ran away from the warmth of the house?

Also, did you mean what you said when you used fickle as a description of your relationship with Ellie? Boy, did she have so many questions. This ball was filled with kinetic energy, rolling as it should have. She was just going to have to keep the momentum of its roll. For how long? The inspired artist didn’t know—but what she did know, was that she had a woman to make hers again.

This time, in a sustainable way, instead of a chaotic one.

taglist: @autisticintr0vert , @liasxeatt , @hopingforgoodblogs , @lia-winther , @macaroni676 , @tobiotruther , @anewkindofloove , @fatbootymuncher , @maiaska , @culuvr , @0phantom0 , @onlinelesbo , @bbnbhm , @lovelaymedown , @lamorenita , @scatapple , @elliewilliamsblunt , @goddessofchaosss , @mikellie , @emmanetalias , @sevyscoven , @lluvbk

[myinaru]

Childhood Best Friend Complex - Part 3

You and Heeseung have been best friends forever. Emphasis on forever. Like, learned-how-to-walk-together type of forever. But college throws a wrench into your usual routine: one night blurs a line that was never supposed to move, and suddenly, everything feels different. Now there’s weird tension, awkward silences, and unspoken things you’re both too stubborn to say out loud. You don’t know what’s worse, pretending nothing’s changed or admitting everything has. Because staying friends? That was always the plan. Wanting more? That was never supposed to happen.

Pairing: Lee Heeseung x Fem!Reader

Genre: College AU, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 39.6k Total (13.4k - Part 3)

Warnings: Dry humping (hell yeah), Corny maybe idc, Lots of misunderstanding, Mentions of multiple kpop idols, Cursing, Cunnilingus, Unprotected sex (pls don't), Praising, Heeseung is a yearner, Lmk if I missed anything lol

Author's Note: First time uploading here lol. This fic was heavily inspired by the manhwa/webtoon Childhood Friend Complex. I'll be splitting it into three parts since Tumblr won't let me post it in one go. Hope y'all enjoy T-T

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

It’s late.

The hallway outside your apartment is quiet except for the distant hum of a fluorescent light buzzing overhead.

Heeseung’s been standing in front of your door for five minutes.

He’s already raised his fist to knock twice—stopped himself both times.

He’s not sure if he even should be here. What if you didn’t mean it? What if you only said it because the elevator was too small and the air too thick and his words too much?

He shifts the weight between his feet, about to turn around- But the door opens.

Heeseung startles.

And there you are, framed in warm light.

Wearing his hoodie. The old gray one with the frayed sleeves and stretched cuffs. The one he left at your place a year ago claiming it was already too small anyway, but secretly hoping you’d wear it one day.

You blink at each other for a few seconds.

“You came,” you say, voice small, like maybe you didn’t think he actually would.

“Yeah,” he answers. “…You told me to.”

“I did,” you murmur. Then step aside. “Come in.” He steps in.

Takes off his shoes.

You both walk to the living room like you’re strangers in your own bodies.

No music. No movie playing in the background. No excuses. Just the couch.

Just you and him.

Heeseung sits on the far end. You sit on the other. Like there’s a wall between you, made of the things you didn’t say for weeks. The silence is thick, unbearable. You pull your knees up to your chest.

You tuck your knees up onto the couch, facing him. Heeseung’s wringing his hands in his lap. He looks like he’s been overthinking this conversation since forever.

“You look tired,” you finally say.

“You look warm,” he replies, nodding to the hoodie.

You both almost smile.

But then the quiet returns.

And this time, it demands more than small talk.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “So,” he says softly, voice tentative, “this is the part where we actually talk, huh?” You let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Guess so.” You both stare at the table for a beat.

And then, “Why didn’t you tell me it was you?” you blurt out.

He looks at you, startled.

“The notes. The photo. The stupid banana milk. Why didn’t you just say?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “I didn’t know how. After everything… I didn’t think I had the right to just show up in your life again like nothing happened.” You hug your knees tighter.

“So you left anonymous gifts like some messed up secret admirer?”

“I was trying to apologize.”

“By haunting me?”

“I thought you’d know it was me,” he says quietly. “I thought… I hoped it’d be obvious.”

You shake your head, bitterly. “No. It wasn’t obvious. It was terrifying.” Your voice breaks, but you keep going.

“You don’t know what it felt like, reading those notes and thinking it was her.”

He blinks. “Her…?”

“Yeri,” you admit, almost ashamed to say it. “I thought it was her. Trying to get in my head. I… I saw the handwriting and thought it looked like hers, and the weird phrasing in the notes, the way they kept showing up when I was alone. I thought she was trying to mess with me. To get to me through you.”

You look down, fingers curling into the sleeves of his hoodie.

“And I thought… maybe you let her.” The air sucks out of the room.

Heeseung goes completely still.

“What?” he breathes.

You finally meet his eyes. “You were always with her. At rehearsals. Talking. Laughing. I thought… I thought maybe she knew something I didn’t. Maybe she knew you better than I did.”

“No,” he says firmly, almost too fast. “Y/n, no. That’s not- no.”

He runs a hand through his hair, like he wants to tear something apart.

“She was just a partner. That’s it. She was nice to me, yeah, but… it wasn’t like that. It was never like that.”

“It felt like it,” you whisper.

He leans back, exhaling hard. “I didn’t know you thought that,” he says quietly. “I didn’t know you got scared. “Why didn’t you ask me?” You glance at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He swallows hard. That question stops him cold.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me, Heeseung?”

“Because I thought if I opened my mouth, I’d tell you I loved you.” Your breath catches. The words hang in the air like smoke. He smiles, bitterly. “And I didn’t think you wanted to hear that.” You stare at him. And something inside you cracks.

“You idiot,” you say, voice wobbling.

“I know.”

“We’ve known each other our whole lives.”

“I know.”

“And you thought anonymous banana milk was the move?”

He gives you a sheepish look. “I panicked.”

“Clearly.” You laugh softly, the kind that’s half-sob, half-hysterical. Then you look at him again. Your eyes sting. “I hated seeing you with her,” you admit. “I felt crazy for it. Like I wasn’t allowed to be upset because we were just… friends.”

“We were never just friends.” Heeseung looks at you like he wants to say more, but he stops himself.

And that hesitation breaks your heart a little. “What?” you ask gently. “What are you thinking?” He hesitates again. “I want to kiss you.” You blink.

“But I’m scared if I do… I’ll mess everything up all over again.” Heeseung stares at you like he’s searching your face for an answer he already knows but doesn’t believe. “I don’t want to take more than what you’re willing to give,” he adds.

“Heeseung…”

He sits back a little. Tries to play it off with a small, pained smile. “It’s fine. We can just talk. I mean, it’s been weeks of not talking. Talking is already a miracle.” But you don’t want to talk anymore. Not right now.

You lean in.

And you kiss him.

Your hands grip his jaw like you’re grounding yourself in him, like if you don’t, you’ll fly right off the earth. And he kisses you back like he’s been holding his breath for months and only now gets to exhale.

It’s not gentle. Not clean. It’s emotional. A little overwhelming.

It’s you saying I missed you.

It’s him saying I’m still yours, if you’ll have me.

His hands find your waist, tugging you closer. Your fingers thread through his hair. He gasps softly into your mouth, like he can’t believe this is happening.

But you both keep going.

No more silence.

No more pretending.

Only breathless kisses and shaky hands.

You finally pull back, both of you panting, foreheads pressed together.

Heeseung whispers, “You kissed me first.”

“It’s not the first time.” You whisper back, “Don’t make it weird.”

He smiles, wide and shaky. “You can’t disappear on me again.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“I swear.”

You're now straddling his lap, the air between you heavy and buzzing, like everything that happened before this had been leading right here. His lips are red, kiss-swollen, breath uneven. Your fingers are still curled in the collar of his shirt, and his hands haven’t left your waist. Not since you pulled him in like he was the only real thing left in the world.

Heeseung looks at you like he’s trying to memorize everything. His thumbs are tracing slow, grounding circles against your sides, like he's afraid that if he stops, you'll vanish.

“Are you sure?” he breathes, voice low, wrecked, forehead still resting against yours. “Tell me now if you want to stop. I’ll listen, I’ll stop, I swear.”

You shake your head slowly, eyes locked onto his. You don't pull back. You don’t hesitate.

Your voice is soft, but sure. “I want you, Hee.”

You don’t even remember who moved first. All you know is, one second you were looking into Heeseung’s eyes, chest heaving and heart racing, and the next, his lips were crashing into yours with a kind of hunger that tasted like years of holding back.

He kissed you like a man starved, like he needed to memorize the shape of your mouth to survive. His hands came up to cradle your face, gentle and reverent even through the desperate press of his lips. When he finally pulled away, just far enough to breathe, his forehead stayed pressed against yours, his breath warm and ragged between you.

“You don’t know,” he panted, voice gravelly and thick with emotion, “how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

His thumbs brushed along your cheekbones as if grounding himself, as if making sure you were real. “How many nights I’ve stayed awake thinking about this… about you,” he whispered, lips brushing yours again. “Imagining what it would be like to touch you again. To have you like this…”

Your breath caught as his hands slid down, firm and possessive, settling on your hips before tugging you flush against him. The hard line of his arousal pressed hotly against your stomach, and it made your pulse spike. His voice dropped to a whisper as his lips brushed your neck.

“I want you too,” he murmured. Lazy kisses followed his words, dancing along the curve of your collarbone. “So please… please let me be yours. I want to be yours again. I’m all yours, just tell me you’re mine. Just say it, and I’ll be yours. No one else’s.”

Your voice came out low, breathless, trembling. “You’re mine… and I’m yours. Only yours. For as long as you want me, Hee.”

The effect was instant. Heeseung’s whole body shuddered at your words, a guttural moan escaping his throat as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “Fuck, Y/n,” he groaned, voice raw. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”

When he looked up again, his eyes were darker, glassy with lust and something else, something deeper. Yearning.

He slowly descended, lips never straying far from your skin. You felt the hem of your hoodie lift, his teeth gently tugging at the fabric. His hands traced slow patterns along your waist, fingers warm and careful as he slid the hoodie up. Your breath caught as he pulled it over your head, revealing more of yourself to him.

Heeseung stared like he was trying to burn the image into his brain. He cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your bra. “I want to explore every inch of you,” he whispered, voice low and reverent. “Worship you like you deserve.”

You felt a sharp nip at your shoulder, followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue. Your skin was on fire everywhere he touched.

“Can I please touch you more?” he asked, his hands sliding lower, fingers teasing at the waistband of your pants. “Taste you everywhere?”

You barely managed to whisper, “Yes… please.”

Heeseung didn’t need anything more. He started pressing open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, tongue flicking out between each one. He dropped to his knees in front of you like it was instinct, like this was where he always belonged.

“Fuck, look at you…” he murmured, his hands smoothing up your thighs before cupping your ass with reverence. “You’re perfect.”

You gasped when his lips brushed your inner thigh.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he said against your skin. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”

Your hand found his hair, fingers tangling into the soft strands. “Please… I need you.”

He growled softly at your words, hands gripping tighter. But you paused, blinking down at him.

“Wait… You're being unfair. I’m completely naked, and you’re still in every piece of clothing.”

You tugged lightly at his shirt, giving him a playful pout. “Take it off. Let me see you.”

Heeseung let out a shaky breath, the corners of his lips twitching into a smirk as he stood up.

“Yes ma’am.”

He stripped slowly, teasingly. First, his shirt, he pulled it off in one smooth motion, revealing his toned chest and abs. You couldn’t help but let your eyes roam, drinking him in. Then came his jeans, unbuttoned and pushed down with deliberate slowness until he was left in nothing but tight black boxers that barely concealed how hard he was.

He stepped back into your space, pulling you against him again.

“Now the odds are even,” he murmured, voice rough as his lips brushed your ear.

You chuckled nervously, eyes flicking up to meet his. “If someone told me months ago I’d be laying naked with my best friend on my couch, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

His laugh rumbled against your chest as his hands slid up your back. “Believe it now?” he teased, trailing kisses along your jaw.

You couldn’t answer. Not when his hips started rocking into yours, slow and deliberate, the heat between you overwhelming.

“You feel that, baby?” he growled, voice thick. “That’s all for you. Because of you.”

Your eyes raked down his body, fingers twitching with need. You trailed your hand over his abdomen, marveling at the way he twitched under your touch, before slipping your hand beneath the waistband of his boxers.

Heeseung groaned, head falling back as your hand palmed his arousal. “Fuck, Y/n… your hands feel so good.”

And then he was tugging your bra down, exposing your chest before taking one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it until you were arching into him. He gave the same attention to your other breast, his teeth grazing gently before sucking, leaving you trembling beneath him.

“I want to taste every inch of you,” he murmured, voice raspy with longing. “May I?”

You gave him the faintest nod, still hesitant as your fingers clutched the waistband of his boxers.

That was all he needed. He trailed wet kisses down your torso, stopping at your hips to nibble before he hooked his fingers into your panties and tugged them off, exposing you completely.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, eyes raking over you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

You tried to cover your face, but Heeseung gently pried your hand away.

“No hiding,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”

His mouth found your inner thighs again, leaving a trail of fire as he kissed closer and closer to where you needed him.

"Are you ready for me, baby?"

You barely breathed out, "Just do it, Hee." And then his mouth was on you.

You barely had time to brace yourself before the first slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue parted your folds, dragging from your entrance up to your clit with maddening precision. Your entire body jolted, a breathy gasp spilling from your lips as he did it again—slower this time, like he was savoring you. His lips closed around the sensitive bundle of nerves, and he sucked, just softly, just enough to make your hips twitch and your thighs instinctively clamp around his head.

“Hee—” you gasped, the sound cracking in your throat.

He groaned against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat up your spine. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmured, his voice thick, gravelly. “So wet for me already... I missed this so much, baby. Missed you.”

Before you could even process his words, his fingers joined the mix, slipping into your drenched heat with practiced ease, curling just enough to make you arch. His tongue kept up its relentless pace, licking and flicking at your clit with growing desperation, as if he couldn't get enough, like he’d been starved for you.

Your hand tangled in his hair, pulling, needing something to hold onto. “Feels so good…” you whimpered, hips lifting toward his mouth without even realizing. “Even I can’t make myself feel this good…”

He chuckled against you, the sound muffled and cocky and soaked in affection. “Damn right you can’t,” he said, lips brushing your slick skin. “No one else could ever touch you like this, baby. Only me. Only I get to have you like this.”

Your breath hitched. Your stomach tightened. Your eyes fluttered shut as his fingers curled just right inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made your whole body tense with need. “Right there..! Fuck… Heeseung, stop or else I’ll- He didn’t.

He didn’t even hesitate.

He doubled down. His fingers pumped faster, stronger, filling you with just the right amount of pressure while his tongue latched onto your clit, flicking mercilessly. You could feel the wet heat of his mouth, the way he groaned every time you clenched around his fingers like your pleasure was his oxygen.

His voice was a growl, low and ragged against your core. “Come for me,” he murmured, sounding like a man on the edge. “Come all over my tongue like a good girl, baby. I wanna feel it.”

You tried to hold on. You really did.

You bit your lip so hard you thought it might bleed, legs shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure built to a breaking point. Your hand tugged desperately at his hair, but he didn’t let up. If anything, he worked you harder, chasing your orgasm like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

And then you broke.

It hit you like a wave, sharp, hot, overwhelming. Your hips lifted from the couch, your back arched, and a loud, breathless cry of his name tore from your throat. You came undone against his mouth, your entire body trembling as your orgasm washed over you in blinding, white-hot pulses.

But even then… Heeseung didn’t stop.

He kept licking, gentle now, savoring every last drop of you like you were the most decadent thing he'd ever tasted. His hands stroked your thighs as you trembled around him, soothing you through the aftershocks, his lips pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs and hipbones.

“God,” he whispered, voice reverent as he rested his cheek against your leg, looking up at you with eyes dark with lust and adoration. “You’re even more beautiful like this… completely wrecked because of me.”

Your chest heaved, and you tried to catch your breath, but the look on his face, and the way his fingers still traced lazy circles along your inner thigh, told you he wasn’t done. Not even close.

He crawled back up your body, hovering over you with a smirk that was both wicked and loving. His lips brushed yours, and you could taste yourself on his tongue.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured, nuzzling your cheek, his hands never leaving your body.

Still breathless, your voice came out low and shaky as you stared at him with hooded eyes. “I need more of you, Hee…” you whispered. “I want all of you.”

Heeseung’s breath hitched the moment the words left your mouth, your quiet demand lighting a fire behind his dark eyes. He swallowed hard, gaze dropping briefly before he reached down, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers.

"You sure?" he asked, voice raspier now, thick with anticipation. "You say that, and I'm never gonna be able to hold back again."

Your response was a breathless nod, and that was all he needed.

He shoved the fabric down his legs and kicked it off without ceremony. Fully bare now, he climbed back over you, settling between your legs, where your warmth met the underside of his cock. You felt the way he trembled slightly, how his hips rocked forward slowly, coating himself in your arousal.

"You want this?" he asked, voice rough and hushed, like he was scared to wake from a dream. His eyes stayed locked on yours. "You want me to fill this pretty pussy with my cock?"

You swallowed thickly. Your brows furrowed, not from hesitation, but sheer arousal.

Heeseung’s cock was pretty, damn near angelic for how filthy the moment felt. Long and pale, with delicate veins tracing up to the flushed pink tip that throbbed against your entrance. You couldn’t help the shaky exhale that slipped out as your eyes flicked back to meet his.

“So bad,” you whispered, and he visibly twitched at your words.

“Fuck,” he muttered, half in disbelief.

Then he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that left no space between you, heated, needy, full of everything never spoken. You felt the way he lined himself up with you, the tip pressing at your folds.

"You sure you can handle me, baby?" he murmured against your mouth, nipping gently at your lower lip. "Because once I start... I won't be able to stop."

Your only answer was another kiss, hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer.

With that, he pushed in.

One long, slow thrust. No warning, no easing in, just the smooth, agonizing stretch of him filling you in one go. Your breath caught. Your back arched. Your eyes rolled.

“Heeseung- fuck.”

He groaned deep in his throat, forehead resting against yours as he stilled inside you, giving your body time to adjust. You felt how hard he was trying not to move, how his arms trembled under the weight of his restraint.

“God, Y/n…” he whispered, voice trembling. “You feel so fucking good. So tight. So wet for me.”

He began peppering kisses along your jaw, down your neck, murmuring praises between each soft press of his lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed, thumbs stroking the sides of your waist. “You’re taking me so well. You’re perfect for me, you know that?”

You whimpered under him, your body already trembling, your arms winding tighter around his back like you could anchor yourself to him. “Move, Hee. Please.”

Your voice was small. Wrecked. And maybe that was what undid him.

Heeseung let out a shaky breath, chest rising and falling against yours, his forehead pressing down against your shoulder. "Fuck," he whispered, almost to himself, like he was still trying to get a grip. His hips shifted slightly, cock twitching where it rested inside you, still unmoving, teasing. "You’re so warm, baby... So tight. I could stay like this forever."

You writhed beneath him, the tease of it too much, especially after the orgasm he'd already drawn out of you with nothing but his mouth and his stupidly perfect hands. You needed him to move. To take.

And he finally did.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he pulled back. You felt every inch of him drag against your walls, every ridge, every curve, slick and thick and perfect, before he pushed back in again. Smooth, deep, like he was trying to mold himself to the shape of you.

Your breath hitched. Your legs locked around his waist.

Heeseung moaned. Whimpered. A soft, cracked sound that tumbled out of his mouth like he couldn’t hold it in. He moved again. Another long, steady stroke that had your toes curling and your head tipping back. The rhythm was unhurried, hypnotic. He was savoring it. Savoring you.

“You feel that?” he gasped, voice trembling. “Fucking hell, Y/n... this pussy- God, you were made for me.”

His lips brushed your throat, then your collarbone, damp with sweat and hot breath. His body was tense over yours, muscles taut, every thrust deep and deliberate. He angled his hips just right, and-

You cried out, back arching. Heeseung groaned in response, his pace faltering just a little.

“Right there?” he murmured, dazed. “God, you’re clenching so hard, baby. You’re gonna make me lose it.”

You laughed breathily, trying to hold yourself together, but your body was already buzzing, oversensitive from before. “You make me feel so full,” you whispered, nails dragging down his back without a second thought. “So good. No one- no one ever makes me feel like this, Heeseung.”

And that broke him.

He stuttered in his rhythm, almost like he forgot how to breathe, and his face crumpled as if he physically couldn’t take hearing that. He dove down and kissed you, messy, desperate, all tongue and teeth and emotion. His hips stalled completely, cock twitching inside you while he got lost in the taste of your mouth.

“I’ll always make you feel good,” he breathed against your lips. “I need to. You're mine now, Y/n. Mine to love. Mine to protect. Mine to-” his voice cracked, “-fuck until you can’t remember anything else but me.”

You whimpered. You’d never felt so seen.

And then he started moving again, harder this time. Faster. No longer gentle. His thrusts turned sharp, snappy, claiming, each one punching a moan from your throat. His grip on your hips tightened, rough fingers digging into soft skin like he couldn’t bear to let you slip away.

The sound of skin against skin echoed around you. Wet, fast, heated. His name spilled from your mouth over and over again, “Heeseung, Heeseung, Heeseung,” like a prayer you didn’t know you were chanting.

“You hear that?” he panted, voice hoarse. “This is what happens when you tease me. When you look at me like I’m the only thing you want. When you say my name like it’s the only word you know.”

You gasped, mind spinning. You couldn’t think. Couldn't breathe.

“You’re driving me crazy,” you whispered. “I can't even- Hee, I can’t think.”

“Good,” he growled, and then, with a desperate, broken noise, “Fuck, baby, you’re driving me crazy too.”

You clawed at his back, arms hooked under his, pulling him closer until your bodies were flush. Your nails raked across his shoulder blades and he cried out, loud and choked and so needy, the sound raw in his throat.

“That’s it,” he whimpered. “Mark me up. Let everyone see. Let them know I’m yours.”

He surged forward, kissing you again, rougher this time, tongue plunging past your lips as his cock drove deeper and deeper, rhythm unraveling with each thrust. One hand slid to your throat, fingers wrapping gently around the column of your neck, just enough to remind you that you were his. Not hurting. Just holding. His.

“You’re squeezing me so tight,” he groaned, hips stuttering. “I’m- I can’t- fuck, Y/n-”

You couldn’t speak anymore. You could only gasp, body trembling, thighs shaking around his waist. “Hee, baby… I’m gonna- ohmygod… I’m cumming-”

That did it.

Heeseung let out the most devastated whimper, his whole body going taut above you as you clamped down around him, your orgasm crashing over you in waves that had your vision white and your ears ringing.

“Fuck, fuck, Y/n-” he sobbed, pulling out just enough before his hips bucked helplessly. His hand wrapped around his cock, and with one, two more strokes, he came, hard, spilling hot and thick across your stomach with a long, strangled moan.

His whole body shuddered.

He collapsed above you, catching himself on shaking elbows as his head dropped against your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged, shuddering pants. “Shit,” he mumbled, voice cracking.

“You... You ruin me.”

You giggled through the haze, looking down at the mess he made, cum sticky and warm on your skin. “You always make a mess,” you teased softly.

Heeseung laughed, breathless and still trembling, lips pressing against your neck.

“Only for you, baby,” he murmured. “Only ever for you.”

You looked down to face him, cupping his cheek, and for a moment all the heat faded into softness. He leaned into your touch, his eyes full of something deeper than lust.

“Was that okay?” he asked quietly, almost shy now. “Did I… satisfy you?”

You nodded, smiling up at him through the haze. “You were amazing. Like, ruin-me-forever amazing. But…” You looked down pointedly. “I do need a towel, though.”

His lips twitched, and he kissed your palm before slipping out of bed. “You don’t need to ask,” he murmured over his shoulder as he padded to the bathroom. “I’ll always take care of you.”

He returned a minute later with a warm, damp cloth, and you stayed quiet as he cleaned you up with gentle, careful hands, tender in a way that made your heart ache.

“There,” he said, tossing the cloth aside and lying down next to you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his mouth pressing a kiss to your temple. “Let’s cuddle for a bit. And then I’ll cook us something. Sound good?”

“I’d like that,” you murmured. “Stay over for the night?”

Heeseung froze. His breath hitched like your words had plucked a string deep inside his chest. His eyes flicked down to yours slowly, searching your face as if to confirm what he heard was real. There was a softness in his gaze now, the kind that made your stomach do a slow, fluttering turn.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice almost too gentle. His thumb traced along your cheek, lingering like he didn’t want to let the moment go. “I don’t want to push or… rush anything. Not if you’re not ready.”

You rolled your eyes at him, the playful smirk tugging at your lips undercutting the thudding of your heart. “Come on. It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve spent the night together.”

That made him laugh, quiet and breathy. “Yeah. I know. But… it feels different this time, doesn’t it?” His voice cracked just the tiniest bit as he spoke, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to be this honest. “I’m yours now… aren’t I?”

And just like that, your walls softened again. You nestled against his chest, nuzzling into the slope of his neck as your fingers toyed with the hem of his hair. “Yeah,” you whispered into his skin. “You’re mine.”

He rested his chin on top of your head, holding you like he never wanted to let go. “Well, since you’re sure,” he whispered, “then yeah. I’d love nothing more than to stay and hold you all night long.”

You sighed, then giggled softly, your breath brushing against his skin. “I know I love you and shit, but we both seriously need a bath.”

Heeseung burst out laughing, his whole chest shaking as he pulled back to grin at you. “Okay, okay, I can agree with that. We probably smell like-”

“Don’t say it.”

“-like sex.”

You smacked his shoulder lightly. “Gross, Lee.”

He only grinned harder, eyes sparkling. “What? It’s true.”

His eyes lit up with that familiar spark, amusement evident in them. “How about we take that bath together?” he offered, voice dropping lower. “I’ll be good. Promise. Well, mostly.”

He winked as he stood and reached a hand out to you. You took it, fingers wrapping around his, and he gave you a little squeeze, grounding you as always.

He led you to the bathroom, still completely bare and unbothered about it. Heeseung reached over to turn the taps, adjusting the temperature just right, then poured in a capful of lavender bubble bath like it was second nature.

“Want me to throw on clothes for this,” he said over his shoulder, glancing back at you with that boyish smile, “or stay like this? For the vibes.”

You arched a brow. “Who the hell takes a bath fully clothed?”

“Oh, thank god,” he said with mock relief, walking over and looping his arms around your waist. “Because I was really hoping you’d say that. I like it better when you look at me like that.”

He kissed your neck, slow, almost reverent. You felt his smile curve against your skin as he added, “I’m all yours, remember?”

“You’re so dramatic,” you said, chuckling, even as your arms came up to wrap around him. “Come on, Romeo. Let’s get in before the water gets cold.”

Heeseung didn’t need to be told twice. He lifted you easily, stepping into the bath with you in his arms. He sat back against the tub’s edge and settled you into his lap, the warm water wrapping around both your bodies.

“How’s this?” he murmured, his hands settling at your waist. “Comfy?”

“Yeah… just don’t get hard on me. I’m still sore.”

Heeseung made a wounded sound. “You say that like I have control over it.” He leaned in, whispering against your ear. “You’re naked. You’re on my lap. I’m only human, Y/n.”

You smacked his shoulder playfully, but the mood stayed light. A little intimate bubble where everything outside this bathroom felt far away. He massaged your sides gently, letting his thumbs trace lazy circles against your damp skin.

“Oh shit.” You pulled back slightly, eyes going wide. “Is your back okay? I might’ve scratched it up pretty bad earlier…”

He turned so you could see, and yeah, there were definitely a few angry red lines trailing down his skin. But Heeseung? He just looked proud.

“You kidding?” he said with a grin. “I love that. Seeing your marks on me? It’s… I don’t know. It reminds me that it was real.”

You traced one of the marks softly, guilt and something warmer curling in your stomach. He reached behind to tug you close, guiding your arms around his torso, until your chest was flush to his back and your cheek pressed between his shoulder blades.

“Besides,” he murmured, “I gave as good as I got.”

You laughed, heart thudding as the soft scent of the bubbles mixed with the warmth of his skin. “I still can’t believe we basically gave each other all our firsts.”

Heeseung’s breath caught. You felt it. A subtle hitch in his chest before he answered.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “First best friend, first crush, first…” He trailed off, a blush blooming high on his cheeks.

He turned to face you again, cupping your waist, and then your face. “None of it would’ve meant half as much if it wasn’t with you. Everything with you, it just feels right.”

You leaned into his touch, your fingers curling over his wrist. “God, you’re so cheesy when you’re soft.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, lips twitching into a shy smile. “You like it.” You did. God, you really did.

“I do,” you admitted.

He rested his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut as his hands held you gently beneath the water. For a moment, everything was still, the rising steam, the fading lavender, the warmth of him around you like home.

“We should probably get out,” he said eventually, reluctant. “Before we drain all the hot water.”

You groaned dramatically. “I wanna stay like this forever. Or whatever. Don’t make me move.”

Heeseung’s arms tightened around you. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Me too.” He reached for the soap, starting to gently wash you, each touch careful, as if he thought you might break if he pressed too hard. But when he got to your more sensitive areas, his hands lingered just a little too long.

“But if you’re up for it,” he murmured teasingly, lips brushing your ear, “maybe I can show you more ways to make you feel good.”

“Heeseung-!” you gasped, bolting upright and sloshing water everywhere as you climbed out.

“We just talked about this!”

He was laughing again, standing up after you and grabbing towels. “I said maybe!” You wrapped one around yourself, grumbling, while he held out the other like a gentleman.

“Come here, let me dry you off,” he said.

He was gentle. He always was with you. He started at your shoulders and worked his way down, never once crossing a line, even though the flush in his cheeks said he was thinking about it. Once he was satisfied, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, still dripping slightly from the bath.

“There we go. Let’s get dressed and I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Make your iconic ramen,” you said with a smirk. “Oh, and I actually bought you a hoodie and pants I was gonna give you as a gift. Totally forgot. You can wear them tonight.”

Heeseung paused, lips twitching into something between a smile and a soft expression you couldn’t name. His voice was quiet when he replied.

“Really?” he said, looking at you like you’d just given him something sacred. “You bought me clothes?”

You nodded.

He walked over, took your face between his hands, and kissed your forehead like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Okay then,” he whispered. “I’d love to wear what you picked for me.”

You don’t know how long he stood there that morning.

Heeseung hovered just outside the dentistry building like he had any business being there.

Hands shoved deep in the pockets of his hoodie, hood up like that’d somehow make him less noticeable. The path was still quiet, just a few students walking past, either half-awake or halflate.

He glanced at the time. 7:43 AM.

The first class usually started at 8 for you. He remembered that detail, not because he’d ever asked, but because of all the times your text replies stopped around then. It was stupid how much he noticed things like that now.

He waited until the hallway cleared before slipping in. The smell hit him first, formalin, minty hand soap, and a faint tinge of coffee grounds. Your department had a different scent than his. More sterile. Sharper. Like the pressure hung heavier in the air.

Heeseung moved fast, walking like he belonged even though the pounding of his heart made everything feel off. He passed by the row of lockers outside the pathology lab, scanning until he found yours. Fourth from the end, top row, tiny sticker of a cartoon molar on the handle. Still there.

He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out the candy, your favorite brand, the one he used to tease you for hoarding in high school. The packaging was slightly crushed from how long he’d been holding it, the edges a little wrinkled from second-guessing. It looked stupid now. Childish. But it was too late to back out.

The tape didn’t want to stick to the metal surface, he had to smooth it over twice, then tilt the packet a bit so it wouldn’t fall. It looked rushed. Sloppy. He cursed under his breath.

Then footsteps echoed down the hall.

Heeseung panicked, retreating around the corner near the stairwell, crouching low like a criminal instead of a lovesick idiot. He stayed there, hands on his knees, trying to breathe quietly. Then he heard it.

Footsteps. Familiar ones.

You.

He dared a glance.

You were walking toward your locker with that sluggish, already-exhausted gait you had on bad mornings. Hair pulled back in a loose claw clip. Backpack half-zipped. You looked like you hadn't slept properly, and you hadn’t even noticed the candy yet,your hand was already on the lock.

But then you paused.

You looked at it.

And he held his breath like the world was made of glass.

You didn’t smile. You didn’t gasp or turn around dramatically. You just stared at it, brow furrowing like you weren’t sure what you were looking at. He watched your hand hover in the air for a second before peeling the candy off carefully, like it might be a mistake.

You didn’t throw it away.

You pocketed it.

And just like that, Heeseung felt the tension that had clung to his chest for the last three days ease by an inch. He bit back a grin.

She knows. She remembers. She gets it. That was me.

You didn’t look around. Didn’t try to find him.

But hey, maybe you were just playing it cool.

Tuesday morning, Heeseung got there earlier this time.

Not stupidly early, but early enough that the corridors of the Life Sciences building were still half-lit and smelled like floor polish. He didn’t even go to this department. He was in media, technically, but he’d memorized the back way into your lab building the way someone might memorize the lyrics to a song that hurt too much to sing out loud.

He wasn’t dressed to be sneaky today. No hoodie. No hat. Just a grey T-shirt, jeans, and nerves.

The drink was cold when he pulled it from his tote, a banana milk with a bright yellow cap. Not the kind you get in vending machines. The kind you’d once argued tasted better “because it had childhood memories built in.”

He didn’t have a big plan. Just a sticky note. Pale pink, from the pack he usually used to mark film theories in his notebooks. The message was simple, scrawled in his regular handwriting, no effort to change it.

Hope today goes easy on you. Drink this.

He stuck the note gently to the bottle, smoothing it down once, then set it carefully on the desk you always claimed during morning lab. Second row from the front, right side, beside the wall. Far enough to avoid the air conditioner draft, close enough to the projector screen.

He didn’t linger. Just turned and walked back toward the exit, down the corridor toward his department’s building, where his own classes would start an hour later. But curiosity was a disease he’d never recovered from, especially when it came to you.

So he doubled back.

Stood half-tucked behind the door frame to one of the faculty lounges across the hall, pretending to scroll through his phone. The view was imperfect, your desk partially blocked by a standing whiteboard, but he could see the back of your head when you walked in. Hair pulled back again, different clip today. Slightly hunched shoulders. You were talking to someone, but your tone was quiet, clipped. Tired?

Then you reached your seat.

He watched you pause, then slow down.

You picked up the drink, looked at it like it was some kind of puzzle. Read the note. Held it in both hands like you were weighing its meaning more than its weight.

And then, there it was.

The smallest thing. A flicker of a smile. Your lips barely twitching. The kind of smile that you used to save for inside jokes and stupid text messages at 2 AM.

You didn’t laugh. Didn’t panic. Didn’t bolt. You didn’t search for whoever left it.

You just quietly tucked the drink beside your laptop and began pulling your lab coat on like nothing had happened.

And that was worse, in some way. More haunting.

Heeseung’s pulse jumped. For a second, he almost walked in. Almost said your name.

But something held him back.

Maybe you were playing it cool again. Maybe you weren’t ready.

Or maybe you weren’t mad anymore, just… done.

Still, he clung to the version of the story that hurt less.

She knows. She’s just waiting. Still pissed, yeah. But she knows it’s me.

The next day, Heeseung hadn’t planned on using the photo.

It was something he’d kept by accident, shoved in the back of a drawer with old receipts and a dried-out highlighter. He only found it when looking for spare batteries two nights ago. But the moment he saw it, slightly bent, colors faded at the corners, he felt everything all at once. The smell of wet pavement. The croissant you both joked had the texture of a brick. Your laugh echoing off the café's foggy glass window, turning an ordinary rainy day into something stupidly unforgettable.

And the worst part? You weren’t even doing anything in the photo. Just sitting there, looking out the window, half smiling at something he’d said. The camera must’ve caught it by accident when he was fiddling with his phone, probably trying to adjust a filter.

Still, he printed it out. Just one copy. From the convenience store kiosk near campus. The print was blurrier than he remembered, the colors washed out and uneven, but the memory was sharp. He couldn’t not leave it.

This time, he didn’t head for your lab or the locker areas. He didn’t think you’d see it in the morning rush. Instead, he found your lecture room in the Prostho department after asking one of your batchmates under the excuse of “trying to return something.” They didn’t question him. Just gave him the number of the classroom like it was no big deal.

He waited until the room emptied out after the previous class.

It looked like all the other lecture rooms, rows of seats with tiny, squeaky arm tables, fluorescent lights humming above. A faint smell of ethanol and marker ink lingered in the air. It was colder than it should’ve been. He hated how sterile it felt.

He walked straight to your usual seat and placed the photo gently across the chair’s table. No envelope. No post-it this time. No cutesy handwriting or cryptic messages.

Just the photo.

A silent Hey. Remember us?

Then he left. Quickly. Before your class could trickle in.

He didn’t wait in the hall this time. Didn’t try to sneak a peek through the glass panel in the door. He just went back to his department building, tried to focus on his own work, editing clips for a short film he no longer cared about, but his foot kept tapping restlessly under the desk.

Later that afternoon, someone from your year posted a blurry group selfie in your class’ shared drive, and he scanned the background, hoping to spot a hint of your expression. But nothing.

It wasn’t until much later, when he walked past your department’s side entrance on his way to the station, that he saw you through the window.

You were alone in a study nook. A folder open on the desk. You flipped through pages, then paused.

The photo. Tucked into the back sleeve like it was something you hadn’t decided what to do with yet.

You hadn’t thrown it away.

You kept it.

That should’ve made him feel better.

But your face didn’t look comforted. It looked… tired. Distant. And for the first time, the doubt started to creep in.

What if she doesn’t know it’s me?

What if this wasn’t her being guarded, or mad, or waiting?

What if she genuinely had no idea who was leaving these behind—and instead of making her feel seen, it was making her feel cornered?

Heeseung bit the inside of his cheek until it stung.

This one felt riskier.

The day after, Heeseung hesitated even before printing the photo, his thumb hovering over the kiosk button for what felt like minutes. The screen flickered under the harsh light of the convenience store, offering him three glossy options and a slightly overpriced polaroid-style print. He picked the polaroid. It just felt more... right. More them.

The photo itself was blurry, faded at the edges, slightly underexposed. Probably because it had been taken on his old phone, back in sophomore year. A rainy afternoon. The kind that soaked your socks and made your bones feel like they belonged to someone older.

He remembered that day like it was frozen in amber.

They’d skipped out on a department event, claiming a headache and a broken charger. Ended up tucked in the corner booth of a hole-in-the-wall café near campus. The croissants were burnt, the cocoa watery. The rain had come down so hard it made the windows fog. But Y/n had leaned into the seat, eyes sleepy, telling him something stupid about how that kind of day should be bottled up and sold like medicine.

He'd taken the photo without thinking.

Just her fingers wrapped around a chipped cup. The corner of the café sign half-visible through the steamed-up glass. A memory disguised as nothing.

And now he was placing it on her seat.

No note this time. No pink sticky reassurance. Just the picture. Quiet and daring. He hoped she’d recognize it. He hoped she'd see it and understand exactly what he was trying to say without him having to say it.

Hey. Remember us?

Heeseung didn't linger this time. He had a group shoot to help set up at the AV hall, and someone from his team was already calling about misplaced backdrops. Still, he made the short detour, third floor of the Dentistry building, just before prostho class began. The room was mostly empty, students trickling in late, hauling their models and groaning about occlusal reduction.

He didn’t expect her to catch him.

So when he later walked past the open lecture hall door, ten minutes into class, hair still damp from stress, he slowed.

Y/n was there.

He recognized the slump of her shoulders even before he saw her face. She was sitting at the back today. Alone. Unusual for her. She was normally the type to take the third row, close enough to catch the prof’s tone, far enough to avoid accidental eye contact.

But now she sat against the wall.

And the photo was in her hand.

Heeseung’s stomach twisted. She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t fidgeting or biting her pen cap like she used to do when something made her feel shy or flustered.

She was just... staring.

Frozen.

Lips parted slightly. Brows pulled together like she was trying to make sense of what she was holding. Not like it was nostalgic.

Like it was a problem.

He ducked out of view before she, or anyone else, could spot him.

His chest felt tight. Like maybe he'd gone too far.

But she didn’t crumple it. Didn’t throw it away. Didn’t shove it under the desk with a scoff. Instead, she slid it into the side pocket of her folder, gently, like it still meant something. And that had to count for something. Right?

Maybe she’s overwhelmed.

But she gets it.

She knows it’s me.

He told himself that again.

He had to.

Thursday morning. This was supposed to be the lowkey confession.

Heeseung sat on the floor of the small media lounge in his department’s building, legs crossed, shoulders hunched, staring at the scrap of paper like it might catch fire. He’d rewritten the same sentence three times on three different pieces, all crumpled now in the corner of his bag.

He wanted this one to land right. Softly. Honestly. Like when you finally say something that’s been in your chest for years and hope, just hope, the other person has room to hear it. “Maybe you’ll notice me again one day.” No “please.” No name. Just that.

It wasn’t bitter. Not like the first two drafts, anyway. It was... shy. Hopeful. Not desperate. Just human. It read like a whisper, like a question someone’s too scared to ask out loud.

When he finally slipped the folded note into the inside cover of your private notebook. The one with the coffee stain on the spine and your name written inside the flap. He felt a weird stillness settle in his chest. Not calm. Not relief. Just stillness.

You always carried that notebook with you, even when you didn’t use it. He’d seen you pull it out between labs, flipping to a half-filled page of margin notes and doodles. It felt like a part of you, intimate but not off-limits.

He didn’t want to invade.

He just wanted to be close again.

Just... maybe close enough that this time, you’d turn around for him.

It’s now Friday.

No gift today.

Not because he gave up. He hadn’t.

But because he was scared.

Heeseung stood by the vending machine outside his department’s practice hall, half-watching the condensation drip down a bottle of green tea he didn’t even want. His mind wasn’t here, not really. He kept replaying yesterday. The notebook. Your expression. The way you dropped the note like it had teeth.

He hadn’t meant for it to feel invasive.

He just wanted you to feel seen. Like maybe if he whispered gently enough through these small things, you'd recognize him. But yesterday? You looked like someone who’d been cornered.

And that terrified him.

He didn’t leave anything today, not in your bag, not on your seat, not tucked into your folder like a secret. Not because he was out of things to say, but because... he didn’t know how to say them anymore.

He needed time to think. To recalibrate.

Maybe he’d try again tomorrow. Maybe he'd just say it straight next time: It's me. It's always been me.

But even that felt risky now.

Because during rehearsal, you barely looked at him.

Not in the shy, sweet way that used to make his chest go light. Not even in the cold, awkward way it had been after the fallout. This was something else entirely.

Your eyes flickered toward him once, maybe twice, but each time, they darted away like he was something sharp. Something you didn’t want to touch again. Something you used to know and now regretted knowing.

Heeseung tried not to show it. Tried to focus on the counts. The blocking. The choreography they’d run a dozen times before. But his rhythm kept slipping. He kept missing his marks. Not because of the steps, but because of you. Because you were there and not there at the same time.

And then Yeri passed you in the hallway.

He was behind her, a few steps away. Just grabbing water. Just walking back from a short break. He didn’t mean to overhear.

But the second she said it, he stopped walking.

"You look tired lately," she said, soft and casual. "Are you okay?"

He watched the way your shoulders tightened. The way your mouth opened fast, like your brain was scrambling for words.

“I’m fine.”

Too fast. Too hard.

Heeseung swallowed thickly. Something twisted in his chest. Like stepping into a room that smelled like home but looked like a stranger’s place.

That wasn’t how you used to sound. Not even when you were mad at him.

You weren’t just tired. You weren’t just annoyed.

You were scared.

And for the first time, Heeseung let the possibility emerge in his mind, one not even thought of until now:

“She thinks I’m someone else.”

And if she thinks that, if she doesn’t know it’s me, Then everything I’ve done might not feel like a comfort. It might have felt like a threat.

The note was supposed to fix everything.

It was his last card. His final shot at getting through to you without saying it out loud.

He’d spent Saturday afternoon in the corner booth of a café near his dorm, his untouched drink going cold while he stared at three different versions of the same quote. None of them felt right. Too stiff. Too on-the-nose. Too desperate. He wasn’t trying to beg. He just wanted you to remember.

In the end, he settled on the line you used to repeat under your breath while watching that old cartoon on his iPad in middle school, the one with the slow-burn enemies-to-lovers arc before you even knew what that meant. You used to giggle every time the main girl insulted the guy, because deep down, you knew she was in love with him.

It wasn’t just a quote.

It was yours.

“If I hated you, I wouldn’t know your favorite ice cream or where you hide when you’re overwhelmed.”

He copied it slowly. On smooth cream-colored stationery that looked like it came from the campus bookstore. Not too cheesy. Not too plain.

He folded it neatly. Wrote nothing else. No initials. No heart. No flourish. Just the words.

Because you’d know.

You had to know.

You needed to know.

He waited for a moment between rehearsals, after you'd left your bag on the bench and headed toward the vending machine. The hallway was empty except for the hum of the old aircon unit and a couple of tired dancers flopped on the floor by the studio doors.

Heeseung slid the note beneath your water bottle, glanced once over his shoulder, and walked away before anyone could see.

But as he walked across the quad minutes later, the air felt wrong. Heavy. Still.

Like something had been said, but no one had heard it right.

And maybe that’s what broke him a little, because for the first time since he started leaving those notes, he didn’t feel excited. He didn’t feel hope. He just felt tired.

Not because he thought you'd hate it. But because he still wasn’t sure if you'd even read it. If you'd recognize it. If you’d know it was him.

And if you didn’t… what then?

He doesn’t know when the doubt started exactly. Just that by Sunday night, he was staring at his ceiling with an ache in his chest that didn’t have a name. Not heartbreak. Not guilt. Just that hollow, miserable what if.

What if you were slipping away?

And what if he never even got the chance to ask why?

You wake to the soft sound of sheets rustling and the smell of something warm, linen and lavender and him. The light is creeping in through the curtains, soft and filtered, and for a second, you think you're still dreaming. Until you feel a hand lazily tracing circles on the bare skin of your back.

"Morning," Heeseung murmurs, voice husky and thick with sleep. He nuzzles the back of your neck, and you can feel the slow grin spreading across his lips when you stir.

"You're clingy in the morning," you mumble, not even bothering to hide your smile as you stretch, your body sore in places you’re both too shy and too smug to talk about just yet.

"You didn’t seem to mind last night," he says into your skin, his arms tightening around your waist.

You let out a small laugh, swatting at his arm without much strength. “I still don’t.”

You stay like that for a while, just wrapped around each other in the quiet. There’s no pressure to move, no rush to face the world outside this room. Just the steady rise and fall of your breathing, the warmth of his body against yours, and that stupid fond look on his face every time you steal a glance at him.

Eventually, you drag yourself out of bed, half-heartedly muttering about needing to brush your teeth. Heeseung only watches you go with a dazed smile, one hand folded beneath his cheek like he’s still half-asleep. But by the time you’ve finished at the sink and returned to the bedroom to grab fresh clothes, he’s gone, his side of the bed messy but empty.

You hear the clatter of pots in the kitchen.

Curious, and a little suspicious, you wander out barefoot. And there he is, shirtless in the hoodie you gave him last night, sleeves rolled up as he expertly stirs something in a pan like he’s auditioning for a cooking show. His hair is a mess. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his temples. But he’s humming under his breath and smiling to himself like this is the most natural thing in the world: making a ridiculous breakfast for two on a random Thursday morning after… whatever that night was.

You lean against the doorframe and cross your arms. “You’re being suspiciously domestic right now.”

He turns around, brandishing a spatula. “You’re welcome.”

You raise an eyebrow, eyeing the fluffy-looking pancakes, the scrambled eggs, the plate of fruit. “Okay, but why are you cooking like we’re on a honeymoon?”

Heeseung shrugs, but there’s a blush rising on his cheeks. “Dunno. Thought you deserved a good breakfast. You know… maybe this morning could be special.”

You walk over and pluck a grape from the bowl. “It is special,” you say softly, not quite looking at him.

Heeseung’s gaze lingers on you for a moment too long before he clears his throat and turns back to flip a pancake. “Good. That’s… good.”

You sit at the table, and he joins you a few minutes later with two plates, a glass of orange juice, and a sort of hesitant energy buzzing around him. Like he’s not sure where the line is now. Like he’s trying not to assume anything.

And you feel it too, this new kind of tension. But not the bad kind. It’s slow and syrupy. Tender. You’ve slept next to him before, but never like this. You’ve eaten breakfast with him before, but never with this much softness in the air.

Your phone buzzes against the table, breaking the comfortable silence between you and Heeseung.

You don’t move right away. The light from the window is soft. His plate is nearly empty. Yours has a single pancake left, already cold, but you don’t mind. Something about the silence between you two feels full instead of empty.

Another buzz. Then another.

Heeseung lifts his fork lazily, glancing up with a knowing look. “Group chat?”

You groan as you reach for your phone. “Yup. They’re already panicking.”

You scroll through the notifications, eyes scanning line after line of frantic typing in [FestiCoord - Death Penalty].

VICKY:

where tf is everyone?? i’m not carrying this arch alone

SUNOO: where’s y/n??? weren’t u on supplies and leftover booth duty??

JAEMIN:

bro i thought she was leading the backroom sort lol

YERI:

where’s HEESEUNG. he’s supposed to be helping with the prop van

SUNOO:

oh yeah lol. is he even alive?? didn’t see him leave the plaza last night

VICKY:

wait weren’t y/n and heeseung like… friends? can someone tag her to wake her up and drag his ass here

HAYI:

pretty sure they don’t talk anymore??

JAEMIN:

damn that’s awkward lmao

SUNOO:

still. if anyone knows where that guy is, it’s probably y/n

VICKY:

ugh just tag both of them i’m dying here

You read that last message and feel your breath catch in your throat for a second, not because they’re on to you. More because they aren’t.

“They’re looking for us,” you say, voice low, scrolling with your thumb. “Well… mostly you.”

Heeseung leans closer, peeking at the screen. “Oh, so I’m the favorite now?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yeri literally name-dropped you. No one even remembered we were friends.”

He pauses, blinking. “Ouch.”

You shrug. “We kinda gave them nothing to work with.”

He leans back again, thoughtful. “Still weird, though. Like… they just forgot?”

You glance at him, something bittersweet tugging at your chest. “We were both ghosts for a while. Everyone just filled in the blanks.”

He nods, slow. “Guess that worked out for us.”

You shoot him a look. “Worked out how, exactly?”

He grins. “Now we’re a surprise.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips tug up anyway. You start typing, keeping your tone casual.

YOU: yo chill i’m awake!! on the way soon. don’t collapse without me pls

Almost immediately:

VICKY: FINALLY y/n do u know where heeseung is too??

SUNOO:

can u text him?? we need him like… yesterday

JAEMIN: he’s on prop van duty. he’ll understand once he sees the disaster

YERI:

just tell him to be here in 15. i don’t care how we’re behind schedule

You hold out your phone toward Heeseung like you're offering him a cursed object.

“Congratulations. You’re officially being summoned.”

Heeseung blinks, leans in, and squints at the screen. “Wow. She really typed all that?” He clicks his tongue, reading the string of texts again. “Yeri’s… not subtle, huh.”

“She doesn’t even care that I’m late,” you mutter, slipping your shoes on. “Just you.”

“Must be the Heeseung effect,” he says, tossing you a smug grin. “Not everyone can handle it.”

You scoff. “Please. The only effect you have is delayed group rehearsals and unreturned messages.”

“Ouch,” he says with a hand on his chest. “You wound me.”

You glance at him, raising a brow. “You'll live. Probably.”

Heeseung grabs his jacket off the back of a chair and slings it over his shoulder with mock drama. “Well, since I’m public enemy number one now, guess I better go report in before she sends out a search party.”

You laugh under your breath. “You’re oddly calm about facing your death.”

He grins. “Because I’m dragging you down with me. Misery loves company.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now as you reach for your own coat. “Cool. If she throws a punch, I’m stepping aside.”

“Noted,” he says, giving you a mock-salute. “I’ll be sure to shield you with my reputation.”

“Your reputation is what got us into this mess.”

“Exactly,” he says proudly. “Might as well let it work for something.” There’s a moment as the back-and-forth fades away.

He straightens up, standing close enough that the warmth between you feels intentional.

“So…”

You glance up. “So?”

Heeseung looks at you, not teasing now. Not backing away. “Wanna go together?”

You pause, caught off guard, not by the words, but by the softness in them. “Like…” You fidget with your zipper. “Together together?”

His gaze doesn’t waver. “Like you and me,” he says, a little quieter. “No pretending it’s just coincidence anymore.”

He lifts a hand and brushes his thumb gently across the back of yours, his touch light like he’s asking permission.

You don’t answer right away. You let the moment breathe. Then, slowly, your fingers wrap around his.

You give his hand a tiny squeeze. “Okay,” you say, smiling, but not too big. Just enough for him to see it’s genuine. “Let’s figure it out.”

Heeseung lets out a breath like he’s been holding it in for days. The smile that spreads across his face is a little crooked, a little shy, and completely Heeseung.

“Well,” he says, bumping his shoulder into yours as you head for the door. “If we get scolded, I’m blaming you.”

“Typical,” you say, pretending to be annoyed. “Drag me into your chaos, then point fingers.” He just laughs, the kind that makes your stomach flutter.

“We’re in this together now, aren’t we?”

You glance sideways at him. “Yeah,” you say, heart kicking just a little harder. “We are.”

He smiles at that. A little crooked. A little shy. The kind of smile he only gives when it’s just you two and the world feels like background noise.

Then he tilts his head, lips twitching. “You’re gonna be annoying about it, aren’t you?”

You blink, laughing. “About what?”

“This whole ‘figuring it out’ thing.” He leans in, mock whispering, “You’re totally gonna make spreadsheets.”

You gasp, shoving his shoulder lightly. “I do not make spreadsheets for everything!”

He raises his brows. “Okay. Sure. Says the girl who color-coded our ramen stash.”

“That was strategic,” you defend, proud. “And you benefitted from it, mister I-eat-three-of-thespicy-ones-in-one-sitting.”

Heeseung just grins, tugging your hand gently toward the door. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Project Manager-nim.”

“You’re the worst,” you grumble.

“And yet,” he says, fingers interlacing with yours, “here we are.”

Both of you drop by at Heeseung’s for a bit to let him change into more proper clothes. As he finishes, you finally grab your things and head for the door, he reaches for your hand again, threading his fingers with yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He doesn’t let go when you walk outside. Neither do you.

You haven’t told anyone yet.

It’s not like you don’t have to.

Because this, whatever it is between you and Heeseung, it’s yours. And after everything, you’re finally letting yourselves have it.

Even if no one else sees it yet.

Especially because no one else sees it yet.

Well, that’s kind of your favorite part.

The sun’s already high by the time you and Heeseung arrive at the venue, the air was warm and loud with leftover mess. Folding chairs clatter somewhere behind the stage. Someone yells about duct tape from the storage tent. From the road, the campus plaza looks half-dismantled, half tired, half weirdly festive.

You're walking side by side, fingers interlocked from habit, but as the crowd comes into view, your hands loosen, instinctively mutual. No one says anything. You just… let go.  

Your palm feels colder almost immediately.

Heeseung adjusts the strap of the tote bag on his shoulder and glances at you. You meet his gaze for a second, then quickly look away, heart doing something traitorous.

Neither of you says a word about it.

Instead, you push your sleeves up and stretch your arms with a dramatic sigh. “Guess it’s time to suffer.”

Heeseung snorts. “Wow. What a glowing endorsement of volunteer work.”

You grin. “I was promised iced coffee and minimal lifting.”

“You weren’t promised anything,” he says, nudging your elbow as you both step over a tangle of cords near the sound booth. “You got guilt-tripped.”

“You watched me get guilt-tripped!”

“And I didn’t stop it.”

You shoot him a faux glare. “Saboteur.”

He doesn’t apologize. Just smiles again and pulls your water bottle from his bag, your bottle, not his, and hands it to you. No words, just a simple gesture. You take it, trying not to smile like an idiot.

When you arrived further, the storage room was cramped, the kind of space that felt like it hadn’t been properly reorganized in years. Cardboard boxes labeled in fading Sharpie, dusty extension cords hanging like noodles from plastic hooks, and half-collapsed folding chairs all piled in chaotic corners. The Interdisciplinary Festival’s official cleanup was in full swing, and naturally, everyone was tired, mildly cranky, and running on convenience store bread and barley tea.

You were crouched next to a shelf, organizing leftover promotional flyers into plastic folders, when Vicky called from the back.

"Can someone help me with this speaker? It’s heavier than it looks!"

Heeseung, who’d been quietly stacking folding tables near the entrance, was the first to respond. “Coming.”

You didn’t even have to glance to know he’d shoot you a look before stepping away, like: Don’t move. I got this. It had become second nature again, this language between you. You hadn’t had it in a while, but now it was back in full force, like muscle memory.

A while after, you're crouched on the floor, sorting name tags by department, even though no one will probably reuse these again. Your hoodie sleeves are rolled to your elbows, and you keep flicking bits of lint off your pants. Across from you, Heeseung’s refolding a banner that refuses to behave, his expression focused and mildly annoyed, which is honestly just his default face when he’s pretending not to be paying attention to you.

Every so often, your knees bump. Neither of you says anything about it.

Everyone else is scattered around the room, split into pairs and trios, folding, taping, listing inventory. It's productive chaos, like always.  

“Lunch break in ten!” someone yells, which is met by a mix of groans and grateful sighs.

Fast forward ten minutes and the group is now collapsed in a messy circle on the scuffed linoleum floor of the student lounge next door, sharing trays of gimbap, tteokbokki, fried chicken, and convenience store sandwiches. No one bothered setting up tables. Everyone’s sitting cross-legged or sprawled halfway onto their backpacks.

You’re squeezed between Sunoo and Vicky, your paper cup of soda already sweating onto your thigh. Heeseung’s across from you, biting into a half-wrapped sandwich, glancing up every now and then, but not too often.

Conversation flows like it always does, with light teasing, half-bantering arguments, just typical chaos.

“Yo, I seriously thought Heeseung ghosted all of us,” Jaemin says, dramatically tossing his chopsticks into his empty tteokbokki container.

“Same,” Hayi agrees. “Dude pulled a classic ‘fade out post-festival’.”

Sunoo smirks. “Was kinda mysterious though. Not a single text in the GC? Not even a meme?”

Yeri, who’s been lounging with her chin resting in her hand, smiles. It’s casual, but just a little too casual. “Well, not everyone. He’s always had a soft spot for… unexpected people.” Her eyes flit over to you for half a second.

You don’t react fast enough. It hits late.

Someone, probably Vicky, blinks. “Wait… what does that mean?”

Yeri shrugs, still with that faint smile. “Just saying. Some people pull away from the crowd but still stay close to certain… familiar faces.”

There’s a pause. Small. Barely noticeable. But your throat tightens just a bit.

Jaemin, in a half-whisper he thinks is quiet but absolutely isn't, leans toward Sunoo: “Wait, is she talking about Y/N?”

Sunoo whispers back, just as loud, and zero subtlety:

“Duh. Who else is ‘familiar faces’? They’ve been stuck together since birth.”

Everyone hears it. And suddenly, the laughter dips a notch. Still present, but thinner now. The air tenses. You shift, too, just slightly, just enough to look down at your tray and pretend your rice ball is the most interesting thing in the world.

You feel the weight of eyes. Not just Yeri’s. Everyone’s.

Then, without any change in tone or posture, Heeseung sets down his sandwich, wipes his hands on a napkin, and speaks.

“Actually,” he says, not loudly, but it cuts through the chitter. “I’ve always had a soft spot for her.”

You blink. Hard.

Someone half-chokes on their drink.

Heeseung continues. “We’ve been stuck together since diapers. I’ve basically memorized her snack preferences and sleep schedule. Kinda hard not to have a soft spot when she used to steal my crayons and cry when I didn’t want to marry her at age six.” A ripple of laughter breaks the tension, but Heeseung’s not done.

“I just… forgot how to show it, I guess,” he says, almost sheepishly now, but still holding the room. “Which was dumb, obviously.”

Yeri’s smile thins, falters for a blink, but she tucks her hair behind her ear and stays silent.

You slowly lift your eyes to look at him, Heeseung, your best friend, who hasn’t said this out loud before. And not like this.

And then he adds, voice dropping just a notch, still deadpan but warm in that dry way only he can pull off:

“And honestly… I don’t think I wanna hide that anymore. I’m too tired. Hiding’s annoying. It takes too much effort.”

Someone, probably Hayi, gasps. The subtle kind. The "wait is this real?" kind.

Even Yeri’s expression twitches for a moment. She covers it with another sip of her drink.

You, meanwhile, are frozen with your mouth half open, trying to decide between dying of embarrassment or teleporting into another timeline.

But before your brain can short-circuit entirely, Vicky pipes up.

“Well… it’s about damn time.” That breaks it.

The room lets out a collective breath. Some people laugh, some shake their heads, others just smirk knowingly.

Jaemin nudges Heeseung from the side. “So you weren’t just lurking at booths alone for no reason, huh?”

Hayi leans toward you, her tone mock-suspicious. “Y/n… you’ve been awfully quiet. You knew this was coming?”

You scoff, trying to act unbothered. “I’ve been quiet because I was trying not to choke on my rice ball.”

“Sure,” she says, but she’s smiling. “You look… weirdly happy.”

“Must be the rice ball,” you mutter, but your cheeks burn anyway.

Sunoo grins. “Honestly, I was getting so tired of pretending I didn’t see the longing stares.” “You guys are dramatic,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“You're dramatic,” Jaemin fires back. “The tension during cleanup day? I thought I was watching a K-drama.”

Vicky, ever the level-headed one, raises a hand mock-formally. “Okay, okay. Real talk though, whatever happened between you two before... not our business.”

“But we will be discussing the missed signals in private later,” Hayi adds, pointing at you with her chopsticks.

“What matters,” Vicky continues, “is you guys found your way back. Eventually.”

Heeseung smirks. “Found our way back? We were literally five minutes apart at all times.”

“Still managed to be emotionally three cities apart,” Sunoo says under his breath, earning a laugh.

You want to say something. You think maybe you should. But you don’t know where to start. Thankfully, you don’t have to.

Heeseung shifts beside you and, without a word hooks his pinky finger around yours.

It’s not loud. Not some big announcement. Just something that feels like home.

You don’t let go.

Yeri stands.

She doesn’t say anything. No dramatic sigh. No parting shot. Just gathers her drink, brushes invisible lint off her skirt, and walks out of the lounge with her head high.

No one calls after her. No one comments.

She just… leaves. Quietly. No victory. No audience.

Later that afternoon, when everyone’s out by the fountain hauling trash bags and wiping down booth panels, someone, maybe Hyejin, snaps a candid photo from behind.

You and Heeseung are side by side, backs to the camera, arms brushing. His hand is laced with yours, and both of you are looking at something off-frame, smiling faintly. Like there’s something only the two of you are in on.

It gets posted to the group chat with a caption: “Okay, NOW it makes sense.”

No replies. Just a string of heart emojis.

And a single sticker of a smug cartoon cat holding a rose.

You don’t say anything when you see it.

But Heeseung leans in close beside you, voice low, playful. “Think they’ll start taking bets on when we made it official?”

You don’t look at him. “They’re too late.”

“True,” he says, nudging your arm. “We’ve been official since age six, remember?”

You roll your eyes. “Still mad about the crayon thing?”

“I’m still traumatized.”

You laugh. And pretend you didn’t squeeze his hand a little tighter.

It’s late afternoon by the time cleanup wraps. The sun’s dipping low behind the dorms, creating long shadows across the pavement. The group’s scattered now, some folding tables, some sweeping the area, others just loitering around, exhausted and full and running on pure postevent vibes.

You and Heeseung end up near the curb where someone dumped all the empty drink cups in a sagging trash bag. You’re holding a broom, he’s got a bottle of leftover iced tea he didn’t even finish.

You lean on the broom, watching him swat lazily at a mosquito. “I can’t believe you actually said all that earlier.”

Heeseung raises an eyebrow, lips quirking. “What, that I have a soft spot for you?”

You nudge his leg with the broom bristles. “That, and the whole ‘not hiding it anymore’ thing. You said it like we were in a K-drama or something.”

He grins, tilting his head. “Well, maybe I was going for the climactic confession scene.”

You snort. “You skipped the dramatic rain and background music.”

“I can hum something, if that helps,” he offers, deadpan, then starts humming the “Reply 1988” OST surprisingly off-key.

You laugh, swatting at him. He ducks and holds up his hands in mock surrender, but then the laughter fades a little, replaced by a different kind of quiet.

He takes a step closer, just enough for his shoulder to brush yours.

“You remember that stupid pact we made in middle school?” he asks casually, like he’s not been holding onto it for years.

You blink. “The one where we promised to marry each other at thirty if we were still single?”

He nods, smiling a little. “For the tax benefits, obviously.”

You scoff. “Yeah, clearly nothing to do with lifelong emotional support and shared trauma from high school group projects.”

He laughs, then quiets. You feel it before you see it, his eyes on you, really on you.

“…Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” he says softly.

Your heart stutters. You look up at him, and he’s not joking anymore.

And then, almost shyly but with that same confident lilt in his voice he always uses when teasing you,

“So, does this mean we don’t have to wait until thirty to marry each other?”

You raise an eyebrow, lips twitching. “That was a legally binding contract, Lee Heeseung. I didn’t sign up for early commitment.”

He chuckles, then leans a little closer, voice low and playful: “Okay, counter-offer: we date now, and if it sucks, we just… circle back at thirty like we planned.”

You pretend to consider it. “Tempting.”

He bumps your shoulder. “Admit it. You just don’t wanna give up the tax benefits.”

You smile, shaking your head. “Fine. But only if you promise to keep teasing me for the rest of our lives.”

He grins. “Deal. But only if you keep pretending you don’t like it.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks warm. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t argue.

He slips his fingers between yours again, not just the pinky this time, full-on hand-holding, and it just feels so right. No dramatics. No big, sweeping music. Just the noise of the campus winding down and the feel of him beside you, like he always has been.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[wifeiy]

I am here to ask you questions heheheheehe (also i will continue answering yours later, im not ignoring them <3)

1) tell me more about knight akaashi universe >:) (anything you want to offer up hehe)

2) what’s your LEAST favourite colour right now. if you have one.

3) favourite pattern on clothing?? like cheetah print, stripes, chevron, polka dots, etc

(coming back with more)

ME...?! 🥹 oh my goodness... Let me lock in and do #1 last + utc because the answer ended up. super super long. My apologies....

2. 🤔 i usually stay away from neons.. esp like. a bright lime. No offence to them they're just not for me 🙂‍↔️

3. Omg this is an awesome question wait... floral... stripes.. noisy... dainty/intricate lace stuff... I'll just put examples. LOL

1. EEK. 😶‍🌫️ 🙇🏻‍♀️ first of all Here's the playlist i'm making. the lyrics are quite important (albeit not 100% accurate. obv.) and i'm forming a plot as i collect songs.. I prommy they aren't all just love songs guyselapelas. Our lore..... i will get into it. here

i Have separated knight keiji/civilian(?) me + royal guard keiji/princess me though the playlist is for both (For Now)

am i your man (honeywater): am i your man? / do you want me yet? / or should i kneel at your feet and tell you you're sweet / would that do it? — keiji the oblivious overthinker and yearner. doesn't know my feelings

thingamajig (miya folick): if you want to be angry / i don't mind / i'll let you go ... i'll leave you alone / i am sorry / i know i am wrong / so take it all / i want to be out of control — also keiji related. guy who's always analyzing and trying to stay in control. Self Sabotage

lore + devil for the fire (vundabar) — keiji crash out. BFSJHBSJB i also just rlly like these songs i think everyone should listen

the deal (mitski): i want someone to take this soul / i can't bear to keep it / i'd give it just to give: ME crashing out. before running away. also if i go fantasy the bird can be real and maybe i genuinely lose myself for a while which would tie into ->

ain't killed me yet (adia victoria): you already know when i go missing / i'm out and getting into trouble again / and i'd be lying if i told you / that the devil ain't my dearest fan / so pour me one last drink / and roll me one last smoke / and keep the jukebox paid til we both go broke — Zoinks!! i've never gotten drunk or touched a cig in my life (may just ignore the smoke line). soul or not it's the idea of me crashing out and being totally different

promises (hadestown) — I'm killing myself. sorry. . sorry. this song. hadestown. this + wedding song yeah Im killginysmgrlk

don't be so hard on your own beauty (yeule): with you, i no longer have tainted flesh / where violation teared my dress before you ... you let me cry / and wipe my eyes / and make me feel something other than / desolated nothing — Something happens.. To me.. when i run away.. not sure what yet. me at some point after reuniting. But the song is vry different from the rest so i'm not sure if i'll keep itebhfbhb

two (sleeping at last) — I'm killing myself. This is like I Will by Mitski and i don't know if we all know my relationship with i will by mitski but. I am extremely not regular and calm about it. I will make a post about these songs after this. Anyway. Our bare bones lore......

[karinasbaby]

okay so about the album !! i'm back from older sibling/3rd parent duties phew! okay okay i'm exciteeddd 1. flashover - omg she's such a queen, it's like sweet venom seeb remix's evil twin or something, i love it so so much. the vocals in it are sooo good TT SUNGHOON OMG esp the chorus is so fire 2. bad desire - the different accents by jayke for the prechorus GAHD ni-ki's rap was soo good, omg his voice >< and jungwon's second verse after ki's rap was one of my fav parts ! yearner heeseng we LOVE YOU !! 3. outside - THE ICON YOU ARE ! ! ! the raps were so good, like i was so surprised by everyone's rap. heeseung's pretty boy, also JAKEE (when enha covered i feel good, i was SO DAMN impressed by rapper jake likee) and when he came back, i fell down to my knees. and DON'T get me started on the chorus, this is so head banger bop <3 also jaywon's duo rap, and jay's voice.. I NEED HIM TO USE THAT TONE AGAIN

4. loose (kor. ver) - why are the lyrics MORE freakier than the og like???? tame me??? riki's part was already laced with crack, and now it's EVEN crazier and insane? like pls pls pls- 5. helium - WAS MY QUEEN SINCE DAY ONE ! PRODUCER JAY OH HE'S SO PROUD OF IT AND SO AM I (i js wanna tell him how well he did with this song, and it's like my FAVORITE SONG like i almost cried listening to it TT) espp, his proud smile whenever the members mention it and call it their favorite track, YEAH i'm crying. also ALSO sunoo has so many lines??? i'm so thankful what won's part was so good, i FCKIN ASCENDED you can't tell me she isn't the best summer song. it's like tamed-dashed x shout out (esp in the end with hee's vocalss) with hints of paranormal here and there!! i think it might be one of my fav enha songs (but like i love their whole discography sooo)

6. too close - THIS SONG, it's so good, omg jakehoon's vocals in this, it's like jake's is so sharp and sunghoon's is so smooth??? idkk mann, they all sounded good in this, esp today's performance at the showcase (ANGEL WON U ABSOLUTE CUTIE) 7. bad desire (eng ver.) - all those calling her the BEST eng. ver of a kpop song? YOU'RE RIGHT! SHE IS! why they keep exchanging freakky lyrics for the alternate versions, like jake wtf do you mean 'don't wanna take your golden light' ??? and the still monster reference! ALSO NISHIMURA RIKI'S RAP. again. wanna write my name up on your skin, permanent like a tattoo?????? OH HE'S SICKK

all in all, i think all seven of them did immensely well and i'm so proud of all the many achievements they made in just a day with this queen of an album, ENHYPEN KINGS !! i wonder which b-side they'll promote after bad desire (if they're going to that is) what do you think stellastunna? it's your turn to yap now. i'm waiting :DD

-🌷

LETS GO 🗣️

1. flashover i most def agree it’s SUCH a good song. it’s easily my fav from the album such a great opener and it set such a nice vibe / theme for the whole album, im so happy enha tried a genre / sound like this and it suited them SO MUCH !!!! the vocals were a bit different from what they usually do and they all sounded so heavenly. just really proves to u that enha can really do it all.. overall AMAZING SONG 10/10 !!!

2. bad desire YEARNER HEESEUNG WE LOVE U SO MUCH !!! i most def agree jayke & hoon & jungwon’s voices stood out so so much to me especially jungwon’s “it’s all my bad desire” like he already has such a beautiful unique voice and hearing him sing lines like this all desperate and shit OOOOOO 😫 it rlly did smth to me i repeated that part so many times. again give riki a bridge and he will ALWAYS eat it up. ive known about this since his historic bridge in blind (i can’t actually go a day without mentioning blind cuz i would literally die that’s the best enha song of all time don’t play w her.) bad desire reminded me sm of jt’s mirrors and it generally has that yearning 2000s vibes in it which i LOVEEEE so so glad enha have a tt track like this like the diversity they have is crazy.

3. outside RIKI OWNS THIS SONNGGGG riki & heeseung like this song is theirs 🙂‍↕️ having heeseung start off the song like that was actually crazy i had to actually repeat it multiple times to fully process what i was hearing but the whole song is so insane im so so happy enha have been doing more rap themed songs like this & daydream are my beloveds. and the whole jaywon switching part was so so good. my only wish was hoon having more lines cuz he literally had like one hello.. but overall REALLY GOOD SONG I LOVED IT. i feel like it’s a song you’d play on a late car ride w the windows down and everything omg

4. loose omg i have Nawt listened to the korean version yet i suck at listening to singles like once they’re released if i don’t click with them then it’s highly unlikely that i would listen again and unforch that was the case for loose w me .. its a cute song ! don’t get me wrong its just not my cup of tea but its still a good one to listen to on a chill day and stuff 🙂‍↕️ i love riki’s & heeseung’s parts sm they all sound so amazing on that song but now that i see ur reaction … im def gonna have to listen to the korean version.

5. helium U DESCRIBED IT SO PERFECTLY its most def shout out x paranormal x tamed dashed. producer jay you will never ever disappoint our talented baby 😞 he did so so amazing the whole song gives me an anime op vibe and it’s so cute. it’s such a refreshing song and it makes me wanna go on an adventure so bad. loved everyone’s parts on it ESP SUNOO’S HELL YES ! helium u will always be so so loved. (u and runi adoring this track is so cute to me omg)

6. too close I LOVE THIS SONG SO MUCH sunghoon’s prechorus will ALWAYS make me ascend he sounded so divine r u kidding i need this man to never ever close his mouth ever again. there’s a reason why he was on both pre choruses bcs of how good he sounded and omg. jungwon & jake’s choruses were so good it’s such a pretty & cute song loved the piano its like listening to a love fairytale being manifested into a song I LOVE ITTT

7. bad desire (eng) i haven’t listened to the full version yet but WHAT. ive only listened to heeseung’s part and literally died like. WHY DOES HE SOUJD EVEN BETTER IN ENGLISH IS THIS A JOKE . forgot to mention but the ‘oh oh’ heeseung part always makes me see the light his vocals gen never fail to amaze me BUT WDYM RIKI’S LYRICS PERMANENT LIKE A TATTOO? freaky ass lyrics HOW DO THEY OUT-FREAK THEMSELVES WITH EVERY COMEBACK.

u are so so very right they did incredible. such a good comeback such a good album and heeseung was right when he said there’s a little bit of everything on it, they touched on so many genres while still making it all sound so cohesive and still stuck to the overall theme of it and i love it sm. enha never ever disappoint ☝️ i will say that the only thing that’s kind of disheartening about the songs is how short they were but still after listening to them more u get more accustomed to it but considering the fact that this was all made in the midst of so many activities and an entire world tour is genuinely so astonishing enha u are so so talented and so loved they did AMAZING.