#stage two: I hate everything I draw

[maxygrimm]

I was going through the stages of art grief but I’m back

[mylove-thresher]

This was really really really testing my patience.

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

𝐒𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘, 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐖・h.j.

🎸 — you don't think jisung cares about you enough to tell your fans you're dating, fucking. he proves you wrong when he pulls you in on stage, and kisses you in front of everyone.

♟️ — paring・hanji x reader // genres・suggestive, band members with benefits, han writing hold my hand for the reader // words・1.5k // warnings・illusions to sex, kissing on stage, cursing and general crude language, han is kind of an asshole in the beginning, but he makes up for it, kinda silly kinda sexy, a little bit of my weird awkward writing style.

a/n・ ngl it was kinda crazy rewriting this. i wrote this near the very, very beginning of my old blog and i found it rotting in my drafts bc i never got to re-upload it...then i re-read it and remembered why... (why did i never use proper punctuation holy shit) but yeah i had fun writing them on stage ngl also what do we think of the new layout/theme?? (guys im still @lixies-favorite-cookie :))

"So you're okay with fucking me before the show, but telling people we're together—that's where you draw the line?" you spit, narrowing your eyes at a frustrated Han, stress-sweating as he wrestles with his guitar strap, huffing when it gets caught on a tuft of his hair.

He's flustered, cheeks flushed and red as he cards his fingers through his hair, untangling the rogue strand from the slider. It's a Han Jisung staple: rushing right before a performance because, before he can actually get ready, he has to hear the setlist 143 times, chat with the sound tech about his new gaming system, and—his personal favorite—drag you into the bathroom to screw the daylights out of you.

He calls it: jisung's good luck fuck™

You haven't decided if you love it or hate it.

He huffs, giving you an agitated look, "We really don't have time for this, the show starts in 5 minutes." He continues tuning his guitar, testing a few strings.

"You seemed to have plenty of time when your dick was inside of me!"

He buffers, his ears flushing red as he fumbles a loud, off-tune string.

The crew freezes.

"Jesus, just put your damn bass on, y/n." He mutters, his entire face painted dark red.

You clench your jaw, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes. The crowd roars from behind the velvet curtain, anticipating, your now, very soon arrival. He's right, you do need to get ready. Though, that knowledge doesn't make the crack inside your ribs any less painful.

It was futile arguing with him—if he wanted to, he would.

There's no wound getting on stage couldn't fix.

It's already an hour into the concert and the adrenaline still hasn't worn off, thrumming hot through your veins. Han's guitar explodes, threading its way into your last string fluidly. You whisper into the mic, your voice low and seductive, rolling over his riff like whiskey and wine.

The crowd goes wild, stomping so loud it makes the platform shake. Han eats it up, running across the stage and high-fiving a throng of women right before the final riff.

You finish the song with a dark, crisp chord that vibrates through the stadium with a bitter hiss. You're both gasping into the mics when everything's said and done, exchanging exhausted looks. You look over, watching as sweat drips down his forehead, making his hair stick to the back of his neck. The same thing is happening to you.

It's scorching up here, but it's worth it.

Han pants, scrunching his brows as the camera zooms in, tearing his IEM's out. You're both smiling, wobbly and slightly off center, but smiling nonetheless.

Then, he looks at you.

He's looking at you like he's plotting something, like he's in love with you, and like he's about to do something monumentally stupid all at the same time.

Whatever he was thinking, you were down.

Suddenly, the next song erupts from the speakers and he turns to you with a smile.

Han wrote the lyrics to this song after, finally, putting a label on the whole bandmates-with-benefits thing you two had going on.

It was three in the morning when you found him slumped over the bathroom sink, steam slipping out of the glass shower panels. He was butt-naked, a white towel slung over his neck, catching beads of water trickling from his wet hair. It was clear that he was troubled, a tight knit forming on his eyebrows as he stared at the single sentence written on his notebook.

First, you laughed at him for not putting clothes on before grabbing his notebook. Then, you spent the next three hours working him through his writer's block.

It was then, with your hair disheveled and mascara smudged underneath your eyes, he realized he was completely, irrevocably in love with you.

And in a typical Han Jisung fashion, he wrote a song about it

And, also, in typical Han Jisung fashion, he hid that song and his stupid feelings away from you, until, well, now.

You give him a 'what the fuck are you doing?' look before, just like he practiced, he slides towards you, plucking the first dramatic chord. You anxiously flick your eyes over his face, then the crowd, then back to him again.

"Numerous trials and errors and fights,"

A thousand eyes are watching him, and yet, he's only worried about yours. You stand there, looking both very awkward and very pissed, not knowing what to do with the bass hanging off your shoulder. He just smiles.

"Every time I see you cry

I feel like drowning in the dark

You said it's fine, but no, I'm not 'Cause all I want is you, not your tears

눈물이 마를 때까지

I wanna make you the happiest one, no fear"

His gaze never falters as he takes the final step forward, dropping his guitar and pushing away his mic. You were a mess—hair caked to your forehead by sweat, eyeliner streaming down your face from your tears, but, to him, you were as beautiful as you have always been.

It was just you and him in that stadium, when he cups your cheeks, and whispers—

"So baby, hold my hand now"

Then, he kisses you. He kisses you so hard, with so much passion it makes your knees go weak, melting into his arms. Confetti cannons explode around you.

There was no mistaking who he belonged to now.

When he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed and his lips are swollen and he just can't keep his shit-eating grin off his face. Tiny, colorful paper flutters around you, falling onto his shoulders and in his hair. It was magical, all of it was utterly magical.

It takes you a solid fifteen seconds to realize that there are other people in the room.

Forty four thousand to be exact.

He turns to the crowd, throwing his hands up into the air and finishing the song like nothing happened.

Han has been studying music for about as long as he has been alive, and in all of his 24 years of living, he has figured out three things.

One, music was the language of the heart. Two, music can only be created through passion. And three, his heart never stayed silent when he was with you.

[mossangelll]

is that hyperpigmentation?

arcane characters x reader

basically what the title says, you draw the arcane characters à la hyperpigmentation 😍 i needed smth silly to work on to get me out of my writing rut, hope you enjoy :p

content: gn!reader, reader is their partner (could be seen as platonic/child reader but i think most of, if not all, the hcs allude or explicitly call reader their partner - sorry!)

Jinx

she LOVES it

as an artist, engineer, overall creator she can really appreciate the more wacky expressions of art

she does a whole art critique (barely a critique tbh) and pretends to be some stuffy piltie talking about the genius and emotion behind the artwork

“ya know, toots, i’m reaaallyyyy enjoying what ya did with that…um, splodge? on my face there. yeah!”

she draws her own version but this time it’s a portrait of you

you swap them and have a cute little date where you colour the pictures in together and add details in the background

by the end, jinx’s workshop is covered in glue and glitter and paint and powder and also for some reason silly string

jinx even makes frames from scratch so they can be hung up - they’re probably the most nicely presentee decoration she has in her place

Ekko

you slide the portrait of him over to his side of the table in silence

he looks down absently and has to do a double take

“this is…me?” he asks hesitantly with his eyes widened like a deer in headlights; a look you rarely ever see from him - you nod and confirm his fears

“we have one tree down here. paper’s expensive. remember that.”

walks away and goes about his duties helping the firelights and though you suspect he might be upset, he did take the picture with him

feels so guilty about his reaction he almost sacks himself into a wall as he rides his hover board

later that night he apologises and makes a show of sticking the picture on his bedroom wall (in the corner he can barely see of course)

Vi

she’s been in prison and seen some interesting tattoos but this takes the cake

spends a good ten minutes staring at it whilst rubbing her chin as if that’s gonna make it look better

asks you if this was the rough draft

she’s smooth though so she basically tells you she hates it but in a way that you don’t even realise - you’re too busy being seduced to notice

“i love how wild your imagination is babe 😍”

vi keeps the picture and shows jinx; needless to say, this portrait becomes famous

kids all through the lanes have a challenge where they find all the weird faces jinx spray painted everywhere

vi pretends to act dumb as if she doesn’t know how jinx got ahold of them but you both know what happened LMAO

Caitlyn

she laughs in your face

she probably just had an argument with her mum over being an enforcer so she really needed this to lighten her spirits

teases you over it but accepts it gracefully because she’s a kiramman and those manners have been engrained into her

keeps it in her room as a joke and everything’s seemingly ok

except she can’t stop looking at it

and then looking at her reflection in the mirror

starts to question reality because she knows there’s no way she looks like that but if so, why would you draw it in the first place 😭

then she enters the mad stage and she confronts you about this thing called negging she discovered

it’s a loooooong night but don’t worry it ends in lots of laughter and giggles

she understands it wasn’t serious and was just projecting her stress onto the picture

but then this starts a new tradition where you two draw daily doodles of each other; sometimes with stupid faces, other times as animals, whatever you two are feeling really

Mel

the woman was too stunned to speak

no, she’s literally speechless for a good minute or two as you hold it out for her

she eventually takes the portrait from your hands but does it in a way where you’d think it was going to explode the second she touches it

she tries her best to smile and be graceful about it, years of etiquette training being tested but even this is a bit excessive

she finds a way to dodge actually having to tell you it looks bad but also dodges telling you that it looks good too - she’s a lot of things but she’s not a liar 😭

she’s incredibly diplomatic

the very next day she’s introducing you to an absolutely fabulous painter who just happened to make an impromptu visit but has just enough time to run a session (or multiple) with you!

how serendipitous is this!

never again will she receive a portrait from you like hyperpigmentation

Jayce

“oh wow this is for me?”

you handed this to him in the busy academy building in front of SOOO many people and now his face is red

his teeth are gritted, hand rubbing the back of his neck and if you look closely there’s even beads of sweat dripping down his forehead

you’ve got this man stressed out

takes like 20 minutes trying to tell you that he’s not too sure if this is exactly his style

internally he’s crying for help because he just wants to get out of this situation

he loves you don’t get it wrong but this has never happened to him before and it’s not like they’ve got a guidebook on this stuff

eventually admits defeat and accepts the portrait

it’s probably in the break room and although he isn’t particularly fond of it, he won’t stand for anyone saying mean things about what you made

that is until you tell him it was all a joke in the first place and you never thought he would actually accept it considering how shitty it was

yeah, he allowed everyone a ten minute free for all where they could slander the picture after that

he is gonna give you silent treatment for all of an hour before he can’t stand it anymore and he asks you not to pull pranks like that on him again with tears in his eyes 😭

Viktor

viktor is chronically ill AND chronically overworked

gonna be real, he sees the portrait and doesn’t even think anything of it

like, he’s so sleep deprived that he’s constantly squinting and so to him, it low-key looks like him

you even got his beauty mark right too! most people forget that detail!

it’s only after a good few weeks of having the picture on his bedside table and actually, finally, getting eight hours of sleep that he properly looks at the picture and

who the fuck is that

but at this point it’s too late, it’s already in a frame next to the bed you two share and there’s no way he can discretely get rid of it without you noticing

stages an accident where his cane “accidentally” happens to slip and somehow punt the picture frame right out the window with surprising accuracy

he gives you those puppy dog eyes and tells you how sad he is but that he’ll survive so don’t worry!

can’t even feel guilty about the situation because the moment the portrait is gone he stops having nightmares

Silco

another one who is speechless

if you were anyone else, he would’ve berated you so badly you would want to quit by the end of it

unfortunately you’re someone he loves so he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place

the thing is, he really does appreciate that you went through the effort of drawing a picture of him since it reminds him that perhaps his love isn’t as one-sided as he fears

so he really does want to have it framed and put up on his desk so he can stare at it whenever he misses you

the problem is that even though one of his eyes is fucked up he can still see how butt ugly the drawing is

plus the fact that if he has meetings his business associates are gonna see it and that’s gonna be a tough one to explain

rather not lose out of business because his partner decided to be picasso for a day

silco ends up compromising by having you draw a teeny tiny version he keeps in his wallet instead :3

the bigger version stays in a locked compartment of his desk drawer, he doesn’t want to risk sevika seeing it

Vander

vander does NOT care what it looks like, he loves it

you could literally scribble on a page, say “that’s you” and he’s tearing up at your thoughtfulness

it’s going on the fridge asap and it’s staying there too

he’s gonna show it to everyone with such pride in his voice

sure, he doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking at and maybe you drew his body hair a bit liberally but you made it so that’s good enough for him!

when he shows it off, most people say aww what a cute werewolf and ask how old his kid is

the light leaves their eyes when he tells them, chest puffed out, that his fully grown adult partner did it and that it’s actually a portrait of him

whether you made it as a joke or not, expect all of your friends, your friend’s friends, those friend’s friend’s friends…everyone to have seen it

Sevika

sevika tells you it’s ugly straight away <\3

rolls her eyes as she listens to you explain all the reasons why she should like the drawing

she does nawt care

wants to act unbothered but deep down she’s a bit insulted

however she doesn’t like sein you upset so she kisses you to distract you from the fact she hates the drawing

sevika is an incredibly considerate partner so now she knows you like art, she takes it upon herself to buy colouring books and art journals that you two can fill out together

this is how you find out she’s a god at drawing and you find it sweet how she takes you under her wing

if something’s bad she’ll tell you but it will always be constructive criticism and before you know it your portraits actually look decent

she’s smug knowing she helped you get to that point

little do you know she kept your abhorrent portrait of her and she looks at it every so often to see how far you’ve come

she’s a softie deep down

AU!mylo

he says he likes it but that’s just because he wants to hit

also is a bit pretentious so you could hand him a really bad painting and he’ll try and act like he “gets it” even if there’s nothing to get 😭

this WILL make him doubt his looks constantly

he’s confident for sure, more than he should be at times, but now he’s got that image in the back of his head

aura down and now he’s even WORSE at flirting god save this man

will go around asking random people if he looks like the guy in the portrait because he’s not going down without a fight

he needs to beat the allegations one way or another‼️

AU!claggor

genuinely too nice to decline it or say it looks bad

doesn’t know what exactly it’s meant to be even though you already said it’s a portrait of him

too focused on his plants to worry about it too much, it’s just something that makes him chuckle every now and then

he will conduct a mini interview on why you made it look the way it did

he looks all serious as he nods at your answers

deep down he just wants to understand how your brain works

masterlist

[star-sim]

clementine ☆ heeseung lee

☆ non-idol! heeseung x fem! reader ☆ summary: heeseung was home for the summer. but so were you, the one girl that he's always hated since your playground days. the worst part was that you suddenly got hot, and now he had no idea what to do with himself. unfortunately, an entire year of not seeing each other creates the perfect conditions for one of you (or both of you) to catch feelings! ☆ genre: fluff, college! au, loser!heeseung, boyfailure x girlboss, nerdy heeseung LOL, childhood enemies to lovers, neighbors au!, humor, #patheticmen, suggestive-ish but not rlly ☆ warning(s)? loser!heeseung is SO awkward you might get embarrassed MEOW ☆ word count: 16.1k words ☆ based off the song "clementine" by grentperez. i hope this feels summery and cutesy hehe

Heeseung swore that he was going crazy.

Because why on earth was he actually attracted to you?

You, who used to kick over his sandcastles in the sandbox. You, who always hogged the slides at the playground. You, who always made a point to get him first in a game of tag. You, who always rolled your eyes at him no matter what he said. You, who made it clear to him and everyone on the face of the earth that you couldn’t stand him.

Heeseung couldn’t believe that he was even thinking about it— Why were you hot?

It's been about two weeks since Heeseung returned home for summer break. He'd finished his first full term at UC San Diego, majoring in communications. He had been living in the dorms the entire year, so it's been quite a while since Heeseung had been home.

Unfortunately for him, it seemed like nothing had changed.

They always said that adulthood and college really changes a person. But Heeseung felt the same as always.

All throughout middle school and highschool, Heeseung's summer days were often spent indoors. Reading books, drawing in his sketchbooks, playing video games, talking to his friends, and sometimes even laying in complete silence and just staring at the ceiling. 

And all these years later, Heeseung was still doing the same this summer. 

It's only the beginning of summer, but Heeseung has done next to nothing. He's seen his old friends maybe once or twice, and really only went outside from time to time to take out trash or help his mom water the plants in the backyard.

Truthfully, nothing about Heeseung has changed. He was still the quiet, introverted guy that liked time alone.

Nothing has changed.... all except one thing.

And it was driving Heeseung nuts.

You.

You were the neighbor girl, and consequently, someone that's shown up in every stage of his life. Your parents quickly became friends, so your families were closely intertwined and spent a considerable amount of time together.

The two of you went to the same high school, middle school, elementary school— heck you even played at the same playground. 

And for some reason, you just loved to torment him. It was never anything serious, but any opportunity you got, you would bother him and just be the most annoying person ever. 

Everyone in his life insisted that you were just the best little angel, but that couldn't be any further from the truth. You were mean and childish and insufferable.

And to make it worse, you always seemed to beat Heeseung at everything. Ever since your elementary school days, you somehow always got a better score than Heeseung, whether it be an assignment on coloring shapes or your AP US History scores. His parents and your parents always reassured him that he was good too, but how was he supposed to feel encouraged when you just beat him at everything?!

And you never failed to let him know it, too. You always had that sly little grin.

You even beat him in getting into his dream university. It's not really your fault technically, because it was your dream university, too. But it's the principle of it!

Heeseung couldn't help but narrow his eyes and clench his fists when he heard his mom talk about how well you're doing at UC Irvine in your prestigious little public health major.

Hate was too strong of a word, but he couldn't say that he liked you at all.

Which was why Heeseung felt his sanity slipping away.

The last thing that he expected when he came back for the summer was for you to get hot. And boy, you were hot.

It was actually infuriating how attractive you got.

Sure, Heeseung's seen you grow up beside him, but in his mind you were always the snotty six year-old that stole his candy. But after an entire year of not seeing you, he couldn't help but gawk at you.

Look, he wasn't actively seeking you out. 

Just, every time that Heeseung was out watering the plants or helping with yard work, you just so happened to peek your head over the garden wall to say hi to his dad. Your face always scrunched up when you caught a glimpse of Heeseung, murmuring a tight-lipped greeting to him too before your head dipped back under the wall.

The first time it happened, Heeseung's jaw nearly dropped. Because since when were you pretty?

The second time that Heeseung saw you was at the local ice cream parlor near the pier. In all the ice cream parlors in Orange County, you just had to go to the same one as him. 

You were wearing a bikini top with denim shorts, sunglasses atop your head. Clearly, you had just been at the beach. You had a group of friends around you (after all, between the two of you, you were the social and popular one), yet Heeseung could only look at you.

There was just something about the way the bikini top hugged your body. Maybe it was the droplets of water running down your chest. Or maybe it was the way you swayed to the faint background music of the parlor, your face looking relaxed and dreamy. Or maybe it was the way he felt so goddamn small next to you, despite having screamed and yelled and fought with you so many times in his childhood.

Since then, it felt like you just popped up everywhere. On days that Heeseung's brother or cousins forced him out of the house, you somehow managed to be where he was. And every single time, he'd just stand there and ogle at you. Even when his brother or cousins would say hi to you and strike up a conversation, Heeseung was always rendered speechless, too busy looking at the way your lips moved to truly register anything.

It almost made him angry. How dare you become hot over the past year? How dare you make him feel so stupid?

In every way possible, you were glowing. 

And it was killing Heeseung.

Heeseung let out a sigh as he sunk down onto his bed. 

It was already 8PM, yet the sky outside was still amidst the sunset. His fan was blasting, and so was his house's AC system— he even opened up his windows— yet it was still too hot.

Jamming his earbuds in his ear, Heeseung picked at the hem of his t-shirt, ignoring the way that the hair on the nape of his neck clung to his skin due to sweat.

Heeseung, even throughout college, called his friends a lot. But now that it was summer, all his friends were busy on vacation or having plans, and didn't have a lot of time to call.

Heeseung listened to the ringtone, tapping his fingers impatiently.

Finally, the ringtone stopped.

"Hey, man," a familiar, deep voice rang in Heeseung's ears. "What's up?"

"Jay!" Heeseung cried.

Jay Park was Heeseung's best friend all throughout his life. Although Jay was a year younger than him, that never was a problem in their friendship. Jay had just graduated high school, and he'd be attending UC San Diego with Heeseung next term. 

Out of everyone at home, Jay was the one person that Heeseung spoke to the most. 

He told him everything, and if he didn't, Jay always managed to get it out of him one way or another.

"What's on your mind?" Jay huffed. He always sounded exasperated, but he meant well. The moment that he graduated, Jay went back to his hometown in Seattle to meet with family. Luckily, Heeseung caught him before he left to congratulate him. Otherwise, Jay's been busy, so Heeseung appreciated him taking the time to talk to him.

Unfortunately, Jay knew Heeseung too well. Of course there was something on his mind— You. But Heeseung would rather die than admit it, even to his closest, most trusted friend. Not only was it embarrassing, but Jay's heard and witnessed it all. Heeseung would never live it down if Jay found out.

"Nothing!" Heeseung said in a sing-songy voice. "I just miss my best friend soooooo much."

Jay was fun to tease.

"Yeah, yeah." Heeseung could practically hear Jay roll his eyes, scowl, and scrunch his nose over the phone, something he did whenever he was embarrassed. "Well, I had a feeling that there was something on your mind. You never spam me with emojis unless you have something serious to talk about."

Heeseung scoffed playfully. Jay really did know him too well. 

"Nope!" Heeseung said, popping the p. 

"Right," Jay responded, and the older could tell that he was suspicious. 

A few moments of comfortable silence fell over the two of them. Sometimes, they didn't know what to say to each other, but being in each other's presence was enough.

"Oh!" Jay suddenly exclaimed, "I just remembered something that I wanted to tell you!"

Heeseung hummed in response. It was probably some crazy gossip about a teacher from their old high school getting arrested.

"But, you need to promise me that you won't tell anyone," the younger boy said, his voice eager and impatient. "Like, you can't tell anyone."

Heeseung hummed again. "Yeah."

"No, like, promise me," Heeseung could hear the fervor in his friend's voice, almost as if he's been holding this information back and was just itching to tell someone. 

"Is it that bad?" Heeseung chuckled. "You're scaring me, man."

"Promise me," Jay repeated.

"Fine," Heeseung huffed, crossing his arms. "I promise I will not tell anyone. Not a single soul."

"Okay, okay," Jay took a deep breath over the phone. Just by the sound of it, Heeseung could tell that he was about to burst if he didn't tell someone now. "So, a few weeks ago— I don't know how it slipped my mind, I was going to tell you the moment I found out— I was in Macro, and do you remember that one girl Natty, or something? The one with the bangs, like, the one that dances, and—"

"On with it!" Heeseung interrupted impatiently.

"Okay, well, Natty asked me if my friend Heedeung Lee was dating anyone, and I was like 'Who is Heedeung Lee?' so I just looked at her like she was crazy and so she never spoke to me about it again until—"

"Hurry up!" Heeseung groaned. Jay talked a lot. "Get to the point, please!"

"I'm getting there!" Jay yelled over the phone. "Well, basically Natty told me that her friend told her that [Name] [Last Name] used to have a massive crush on you."

.

.

.

"Huh?"

You, [Name] [Last Name], had a crush on him? 

On Heeseung Lee?

"I know!" Jay laughed over the phone. "That's crazy, isn't it?"

"Wait, wait, wait," Heeseung's lips moved faster than he could think. He could feel his ears burning, and they stung like hell. "Who told her?"

Jay paused to think. "Natty said that Ryujin Shin told her."

Ryujin Shin was your good friend. She wouldn't lie about something like this. Jay's source was definitely trustworthy.

Heeseung's heart was now pounding in his chest. His palms felt clammy. 

He simply couldn't process it. You? Liked him? It just didn't make sense. And after all the thoughts that he's been having about you, it didn't feel right. Something must be mistaken, right?

"When?" Heeseung blurted, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. "When did she like me?"

"Hmmm," Jay hummed. 

Surely, you liked him in elementary school, right? There was absolutely no way that you liked him any time recently. That's impossible!

"I think she liked you..." Jay trailed off, thinking, "I think she liked you all throughout highschool."

Shit.

"I mean, I think everyone knew. It's not that surprising to me, I'm more surprised that you didn't know all this time. Like, it's so obvious— she was so obvious—"

Heeseung hung up.

"Heeseung?"

Wow, has grass always been that green?

"Heeseung, what are you—"

Heeseung never knew the world could be so beautiful. The sky was so blue and the clouds were so fluffy.

"Hey, Hee—"

What's that bright ball in the sky? Why was it yellow and so warm? Is that what people call the sun—

"Heeseung!"

Heeseung was pulled out of his daze as his older brother shook his shoulders.

It's only been a few days since Jay told the news on Heeseung, but it felt like weeks. Since then, Heeseung has gone outside more times than he ever had. He'd sit in the front yard and feel the grass under his fingertips, reconnecting with nature after such a bomb was dropped on him. Other days he'd dip his toes in his pool, just basking in the sunlight, and sometimes he'd go on walks, taking time to appreciate the world around him.

After all, if Heeseung stayed all cooped up in his room, he didn't know what he would do with himself.

Truthfully, nothing has ever impacted Heeseung as much as the fact that you liked him. Genuinely, Heeseung has never felt more confused, distraught, distressed, and downright afraid in his life.

Because... How could he?

Heeseung wouldn't be completely truthful if he said he didn't think you were attractive before this summer. How could he not? There was a reason that you were popular at school. You've always been cute. It was just your personality that made Heeseung hesitant to admit it.

But to think that you— the you that always went out of your way to get on his nerves in every capacity— had a crush on him? Absolutely insane.

And the craziest part was that your crush was obvious to everyone but him. Heeseung made a point to ask all of his old friends as discreetly as possible. Same answer every time:

"Yeah man, she was soooo in love with you."

You? Obvious? With your crush on him? Absolutely not!

This was not something that Heeseung would have expected in a million years!

And the nail in the coffin was when he asked Ryujin Shin herself.

"Oh yeah, she used to make me pick out her outfits to impress you," was all Ryujin had to say in order to kill Heeseung.

It just didn't make sense! Heeseung genuinely couldn't believe it. Of all the people in the world, you had a crush on him? It's not like no one's ever had a crush on him, but it's literally you!

Every time Heeseung thought about it he felt light-headed.

Currently, Heeseung was standing under a tree, cooling off from the rising weather. He had agreed to go on a walk at the park with his older brother. After all, after everything, he needed to touch grass. 

"You've been spacy lately, Hee," his brother nudged him. Heeseung was grateful that his brother was also back from university for the summer. "Everything okay?"

"Y-Yeah..." Heeseung murmured in response. 

Wow, the dirt felt nice under his shoes. He could feel mosquitoes biting at his ankles, but the hot weather was making him too exhausted to care. He should go outside more often. Maybe he'd be less distracted. And he wouldn't think about you.

Heeseung's brother smacked the back of the younger boy's head. "You sure?"

Heeseung chewed on his bottom lip. His mind was completely fried, blank. He couldn't think.

"Hellooooo? Earth to Heeseung?"

Radio silence.

Yeah, he was cooked.

It took Heeseung an entire week to even be able to think of your name without wanting to pass out.

He didn't completely come to terms with it, but he was at a point that he'd gone over the thought too many times for it to sting anymore. Still, Heeseung couldn't stop thinking about you.

All this time you liked him and he didn't notice. Probably because you tormented him the entire time. Not quite flirting, in his opinion.

What made matters worse, though, was the fact that Heeseung would see you from time to time. It was hard.

On one hand, you were an absolute treat to look at. 

Like, wow.

Anytime he caught a glimpse of you, whether over the fence or through the kitchen window, Heeseung could physically feel his eyes get blessed.

You really were one of the most beautiful people Heeseung had ever had the privilege to lay his eyes on. He choked on his spit every time he saw you, it was insane.

On the other hand...

Ohmygodyouhadacrushonhim.

Seeing you was terrifying.

You were the one person that's always been his sworn rivalry... and this entire time you probably never saw him like that.

It was absolutely horrifying to think about!

Heeseung's cheeks felt warm at the thought. In fact, his entire body felt hot. He wasn't even sweating but his skin begged for a bucket of iced water to be poured on him. Maybe he should hose himself down later.

Maybe it was just the summer heat.

"You want me to what?!"

No, no, no!

"You heard me, young man," Heeseung's mom crossed her arms. Heeseung watched with eyes wide as saucers from his seat at the kitchen island as his mom organized the pantry. How could she be so casual?!

The world was ending. It's over.

"Nooooo," Heeseung cried, burying his face in his arms. "Mom, I can't!"

"Why not?" Mrs. Lee cocked her brows. "It's not like [Name] has a disease or anything."

Heeseung shook his head profusely. "I know, but—"

"Then what's so difficult about going over and saying hi to her? It's been an entire year since you guys have seen each other!"

Heeseung groaned.

And that's how he was forced to walk over to your house next door and say hi. He didn't know why his mom was so insistent, but it's probably because she was good friends with your mom, or something. Him and your families have always been close, so Heeseung was bound to interact with you this summer.

Heeseung dragged his feet as he walked over to your house. He really didn't want to see you.

At first, he thought you hated him, but now apparently you've liked him all this time? And he's also sexually frustrated so now Heeseung was just confused.

And lo and behold, the moment that your house came into view, there you were. 

You were in a swimsuit, sunbathing on your front lawn. You wore your chunky sunglasses that fit you too well, your pretty lips sipping on a fancy glass of coconut water.

Heeseung had to force himself to not gawk.

Goddamn, was all he could think, because goddamn were you fine.

The way the sun shone down on your skin made it hard for him to look away. You were completely relaxed, alone in your own world, yet you managed to still be glowing. Heeseung's mouth felt dry, his heart rate speeding up at the sight of you sprawled out on the lawn like that.

Heeseung's feet took him further than his mind could, too busy gaping at you. He stopped at the front of your house, just enough for you to notice him.

"Oi!" you yelled from your lawn, perching yourself up on your elbows in a way that made you even more attractive. "The fuck do you want, Lee?!"

Heeseung had to shake out of his daze. 

"H-Hey," he stuttered out, an awkward hand coming up to wave at you. Heeseung winced in his head, feeling embarrassment wash over him as you took off you looked over your sunglasses, shooting him a questioning look. 

He'd never been like this with you. Ever. The only memories that Heeseung had with you were just the two of you bickering. Never any shyness or awkwardness. So why was he so nervous now?

"Ummmm," you said. Heeseung recognized that tone: it was the tone that you used when you wanted to obnoxiously pretend to be confused to embarrass him. Usually, it would just annoy him, but this time Heeseung was actually embarrassed. "Hi?"

Heeseung could feel your judgy gaze under your sunglasses. You were definitely staring him down. Whether with love or with hate, he didn't know. But it scared the fuck out of him.

"Well, I'mgonnagonowbye!" Heeseung spouted before running off.

(Heeseung could tell that you were watching him as he struggled to get his front door open. In fact, he had to knock multiple times and yell for someone to let him in, because he was actually locked out. And the moment that he was let in, Heeseung ran up to his room, and slammed the door. Never again.)

Although you thought it would be 10x funnier if you didn't, you did in fact think Heeseung Lee was cute. Of course you did. Especially after a year of not seeing him, you couldn’t deny that he’d really grown into a man. He definitely got taller, and his voice sounded deeper too. The way the muscles on his biceps and forearms flexed when he did yard work gave you more of a reason to peek over the garden wall to say hi.

You thought your dumb little childhood crush on Heeseung had subsided by now. You felt a little bad for a while, for always being mean to him— but you just like him so much! 

When you went away for school, you were sure you’d forget all about it. After all, you had a feeling that your feelings for him were out of convenience: he was just a guy that you were close in proximity to. Plus, it was so obvious, too. He definitely knew all throughout high school and middle school how much you liked him. It would hurt your pride to go back to him.

But now that he’s back (and so are you!) you’re having second thoughts.

Sure, he was cute. 

Would you kiss him? Sure. 

Would you date him? The answer to that would be kept a secret. 

For now, you were just going to have fun with it. Whatever happened was not up to you anyway. 

Though, you’d be lying if you said that you never tried to impress him, especially now.

You told yourself it was in a condescending way. 

In a "look how hot I am" way. 

In an untouchable way.

Because you knew that he’d be looking anyway. He always did, even if he didn’t mean to.

And you knew for sure now, as you put on your fitted bikini top that he’d definitely be looking.

Lucky you, your siblings and cousins were close to Heeseung’s brother and cousins. When you were younger, everyone would gather in Heeseung’s backyard for a pool party. 

And now that it was summer, it was no surprise that there was a pool party at the Lee house today.

So here you were, in Heeseung’s backyard, dipping your toes in his pool. 

The Southern California weather was not doing anyone justice. The blue sky was clear, with no cloud in sight. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on anyone who dared to be in its presence. 

The air smelled of Mrs. Lee's lemon tree, sunscreen, chlorine water, and barbecue. Loud music boomed throughout the Lees' backyard, coupled with shouting, laughing, and the sizzle of the grill.

Everyone was here— Heeseung’s brother, his cousins, and all of your siblings and cousins— except the boy himself. 

He’s probably inside cooped up in his room, you thought with an eye roll. He always was. Whenever there was a pool party like this, he always came down the latest, after getting an earful from his mom about being a party pooper. 

You’d always hoped that he’d come down. After all, he was the only one your age, and you wanted to show off how cute you looked. 

That’s something that never changed. 

You pushed up your sunglasses, watching as the boys that you grew up with tackled each other in the water and screamed bloody murder. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

At pool parties like this, you usually found yourself sitting near the shallow side of the pool, dipping your feet in and just enjoying everyone's presence. 

Frankly, you weren't a fan of the water.

You were too busy splashing your cousins with water and laughing at how stupid they looked with their hair all wet and swooped around to notice the sound of a very familiar boy being dragged downstairs.

"Dude— Let go— Ack!" Heeseung's voice boomed all the way from behind the screen door. "Let go— Ow!"

You turned over your shoulder to see Heeseung himself standing at the entrance to the backyard, pouting like a child with his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing swim trunks, but wore an oversized t-shirt over it.

Still, he looked as good as ever.

His tan skin, disheveled hair, and overall awkward and loserish look— you loved it too much.

You watched curiously as he stood there awkwardly while everyone else played in the water. 

You sighed. Some things never change.

You pulled your feet out of the pool, before walking with wet feet over to the cooler next to the grill to grab two Caprisuns. Then, you trudged over to where Heeseung was standing.

"Look who decided to finally go outside," you said with a deadpan tone. Usually, Heeseung would glare at you, maybe scoff and look away. But this time, his eyes just shakily shifted to your face. Weird.

You could see his eyes widen a fraction, before they traveled down to your bikini top. You had to hold back a smug grin— Good, he was looking.

You shoved one of the Caprisuns into his hand, while stabbing your own with the straw. 

He still stared at you, as if you were some kind of unicorn.

"Why do you keep staring?" you asked bluntly, quirking your brow at him. It was weird. Where was the annoyed Heeseung that fought back whenever you bothered him?

The boy tensed up, his eyes widening into saucers before he turned away from you altogether. 

Was he... sick?

You looked at him questioningly. Heeseung stood completely still, his back turned to you, gripping onto his Caprisun for dear life.

You sighed. You nudged him with your elbow. 

"I thought a school like UCSD would make you at least a little bit cooler," you began your way back to the pool, but stopped. You looked over your shoulder at him. "Still a loser."

And with that, you left him standing there.

Heeseung swore that he's not a loser.

Well, maybe he was just a little bit of a loser, but not that much. You called him a loser all the time, and it never really got to him. After all, you were cooler than anyone Heeseung knew, so your standard of coolness was off the charts.

Though, it did bother him a little bit this time. And for the life of him, Heeseung couldn't figure out why.

Eventually, he trudged over to the pool and dipped his feet in beside you. Though, he made sure to keep a big distance between the two of you. 

Heeseung didn't know what he would do if he was any closer to you. And plus, you'd probably start screaming anyway.

In fourth grade, he pushed you into the pool as a joke, without knowing that you didn't know how to swim. Since then, you made it a point to scream whenever Heeseung was near you at the pool, always claiming that he'd pose a danger to you, or something like that.

The music was nice, and so was the feeling of the sun on his skin. Heeseung just felt a little bit out of place, but he wasn't unhappy to be there.

Heeseung was lost in thought, a habit that he's had since he was younger— so lost that he didn't hear the splashing of the pool, so lost didn't hear his brother ask you why you weren't swimming, so lost that he didn't hear his cousins threaten to push you in if you didn't get in yourself.

But the moment that Heeseung heard your shrill scream, he was up on his feet.

In a few quick seconds, Heeseung's brother had hauled you up over his shoulder, ignoring the way that you wriggled in his touch, and threw you into the pool. 

It all happened so quickly before Heeseung's eyes, yet it felt like time slowed down.

As the water splashed in what felt like slow-motion, Heeseung watched as your eyes widened into large saucers, a loud shriek ripping from your throat. His breath hitched. Other than those sounds, he couldn't hear anything else: not everyone laughing, not the music, not the grilling, just you and him and the water.

Heeseung's lips moved faster than him.

"You idiot!" he shouted, and although his entire body felt like it was frozen in time, he was already halfway through throwing his t-shirt off. Heeseung tuned out the sound of more laughter. He could feel his blood boil. "She can't swim!"

With no hesitation, Heeseung dove into the pool, ignoring the cold sensation that sent goosebumps down his spine as the water engulfed him. 

There were some things that cannot be forgotten, and something that Heeseung knew he'd never forget was the way you wrapped your arms around him the moment that you felt his presence. Your once tense body relaxed immediately. You clung onto him, your eyes squeezed shut as stray tears spilled out. He could hear the raggedness of your breath, and just by your face, Heeseung couldn't even imagine the panic and fear that you'd felt. 

"Heeseung," you whimpered, grasping the boy as if you would die. You sniffled, pressing your face into his neck as your arms tightened around his torso. "Hee—"

Heeseung could feel chlorine water droplets slipping into his eyes, burning them. Yet, he didn't remove his hands from around you, not even once. As he stabilized the two of you in the water, he squeezed your shoulders comfortingly.

"You're safe," he said against your ear, "I got you."

The last thing you expected to happen was to be sitting on Heeseung Lee's bed.

He still had his shelf full of comic books and figurines. Except, the last time you really took a look at the shelf was when you were 13, and now six years later it was completely filled to the brim. The walls were still covered in superhero posters. In the corner of his room, there used to be a tiny little ukelele from when he was just learning how to play, but now it was replaced with a guitar.

You shivered, pulling your knees to your chest as you sniffled, holding the towel draped over your shoulders tightly. Your skin felt cold to the touch, but on the inside, you felt like you were burning up. Hot tears lined your eyes, threatening to stream out.

After that fiasco, Heeseung took you upstairs to his room. He left you a few moments ago to find you clean clothes.

You were angry. Why did they throw you in the pool? You thought it was common knowledge that you couldn't swim. You grew up with these people! How did Heeseung Lee remember and not anyone else? How annoying.

"Uh," Heeseung cracked his bedroom door open, poking his head in. You cocked a brow at him, especially when you noticed that he came back empty handed. "Just— Give me a second."

You watched as he went to his own drawers, taking out his own clothes.

"I— There's no girls living in his house," he said sheepishly as he handed you his clothes, unable to hide his red ears. "I couldn't find you— uh— girl clothes, so just— just take mine."

You just frowned.

Although you didn't do any swimming yourself, being thrown into a pool and drowning for a few moments was physically taxing enough. You didn't feel like moving right now, even if it was something as easy as changing clothes. You just put the clothes beside you on the bed, muttering a quiet thanks before pulling your knees even closer to your chest.

Heeseung stared at you. It was uncharacteristic to see you so... small. Someone so bothersome and mean to him, yet here you were curled up like you didn't want to be seen.

Heeseung would never admit it, but he felt bad for you at that moment.

Heeseung sighed.

He took a few more steps forward, standing in front of the bed.

"Scoot over," he said, motioning with his hands.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes. Your lips jutted out for a few seconds into a pout, but you huffed and nodded. Heeseung plopped down beside you, letting out another sigh. 

The two of you sat in silence like that for a few moments, both staring at the floor. In the distance you could still hear water splashing and music from the backyard.

"Thanks, by the way" you murmured, breaking the silence. You kept your eyes down.

"Huh?" Heeseung whipped his head over to you.

"I said thanks," you repeated yourself, this time louder and with annoyance. "You loser."

"Oh." Heeseung blinked. "Sorry."

It was silent again, before you clicked your tongue. You nudge Heeseung with your foot. 

"Why are you apologizing?" you sounded irritated, but Heeseung knew that that was just your natural tone when you weren't trying to be nice all the time. 

"I dunno," the boy shrugged. "I guess for being a loser."

You sighed loudly, your brows furrowing as you nudged him again. 

"You're taking me too seriously," you rubbed your temples. "I mean, you are a loser, but I don't really give a fuck if you are."

Heeseung blinked. "Huh?"

You groaned. "You're so dense. My point is, you have nothing to apologize for, including for being thick in the head and a loser."

.

.

.

"As a matter of fact," you grumbled. "I'm grateful for you. I'd be six feet under if it wasn't for you."

.

.

.

You finally turned to look at Heeseung. Your hand came up to flick his forehead.

"Ow!" Heeseung cried, his hand shooting up for his head. "What was that for— Ack!"

You grabbed a pillow and smacked him square in the head.

"What the hell?!" Heeseung yelled. He reached across you to grab one of his pillows, launching it at you, hitting you in the face.

But instead of fighting back like Heeseung expected, you threw your head back, falling back onto the bed. You were laughing.

"What are you—" Heeseung scrunched his face, before he grabbed another pillow and smacked you again. "What are you laughing at?"

You didn't respond, only continuing to laugh. Heeseung watched as you clutched your stomach, your eyes squeezing together as your lips parted, airy giggles pouring out.

His ears burned. Did he say something funny?

Had Heeseung ever seen you laugh so... light-heartedly? It seemed like the only times you'd laugh was when you were making fun of him. But here you were, laughing like he'd just said the funniest thing.

"Sorry," you said when you finally calmed down. You relaxed into his pillows, letting out a soft ah. You wiped your eyes, which had tears coming out from how hard you laughed. "It's just..." you glanced at him, "You were scaring me."

"Why?" Heeseung's brows furrowed. 

"You were, like, being so awkward," you said coolly. "I mean, you're always awkward, but you were being awkward in a weird, shy way. You weren't fighting back like you usually did."

You flashed him a cheeky grin. "But you seem to be back to normal now."

Heeseung stared at your face. 

Well, even if you were super hot now, and even if you had a crush on him, nothing would change the fact that the two of you were (no matter how much you didn't want to admit it) childhood friends. Heeseung wouldn't want anything to come between that. Even his own awkwardness. There was no use being weird about anything.

Maybe this summer was for the two of you to finally connect, rather than push each other away.

"Ew," you kicked Heeseung, "Stop staring, you freak."

Heeseung rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "Go change."

Truthfully, it was impossible to be awkward like this around you. Heeseung was awkward with everyone, including his own mother sometimes, but not you.

(By the end of the pool party, you and Heeseung had spent most of the time up in his room, which wasn't uncommon throughout your childhood. Though, the difference now was that you and him weren't arguing.)

Normally, on summer mornings, Heeseung slept until noon. But his slumber this morning was rudely interrupted by the sound of someone banging on his door.

"What the fuck?" Heeseung cursed under his breath as he trudged downstairs, still shirtless and groggy in his Minecraft pajama pants. He'd curse at his brother for not answering the door, but Heeseung remembered that everyone else in his family had a life that didn't include being home all day, unlike him. 

Heeseung hastily opened the front door, ready to yell at whoever was disrupting him at this time. It was probably one of those solicitors trying to sell him something, or some kid that accidentally threw a ball into his yard.

But when he opened the door...

"Hi, loser."

Heeseung slammed the door.

What the hell were you doing at his house at this time?! Granted, it was almost 11AM, but still!

"What the fuck?!" you began banging again, "Open up!"

"No!" Heeseung yelled from the other side of the door. "What are you doing here?!"

"Well, open up and I'll tell you!"

After this back and forth for a few minutes, Heeseung finally agreed on letting you in.

"Rude," you muttered, crossing your arms. "Didn't your mother teach you to not slam the door on people's faces?"

Heeseung grabbed the door, beginning to close it again. You jammed your foot inside. "Not so fast, little boy."

Heeseung rolled his eyes. "Explain."

You huffed. "I'm bored. Can we hang out?"

.

.

.

"What? Why?"

You pushed past the boy, stepping inside his house and making your way to the kitchen.

"I already said," you said coolly. "I'm bored."

Heeseung trailed after you. "It's too early!"

You shrugged, making a bee-line for the fridge, looking through it. Heeseung sighed. There was no reckoning with you. He took a seat at the kitchen island, letting out an annoyed groan.

You looked over your shoulder, quirking your brow at him. 

"Nice pajamas, by the way."

It was now that Heeseung realized that he was half naked with messy hair and his embarrassing Minecraft PJ pants.

His ears burned.

"I thought you were done with Minecraft," Heeseung could hear the teasing tone in your voice as a sly grin spread across your lips. "I guess some things just never change."

"Shut— Shut up!" And he scurried upstairs to freshen up and change. You chuckled.

Apparently, your definition of "hanging out" was gossiping in your car while devouring frozen yogurt.

"Why are you so surprised?" you asked, while indiscreetly stealing a strawberry from Heeseung's frozen yogurt.

"I dunno," he shrugged. "I just thought you'd have more extravagant plans for what a 'hang out' is."

You scoffed. "Like what?"

"I don't know!" Heeseung shook his head. "Maybe, like, going to the beach? Or going to the movies? What do cool people do these days?"

"Why would you think that?" you almost looked offended. 

"You were popular in high school, weren't you?" Heeseung reasoned. "I assumed that your hangouts were cool because everyone wanted to be there."

You scowled. "Okay, well, getting frozen yogurt is cool. I don't know what you're talking about." Heeseung shrugged again. "And plus, I chose this activity because I knew you wouldn't like the beach or movies."

Heeseung blinked. Did you really do that for him?

"Why are you looking at me like I killed someone?" you rolled your eyes. "Why would I hang out with you and only do stuff that I'd enjoy? It's not fun when the other person isn't having fun, you know."

"I—I know," Heeseung stammered. The corner of his lips lifted a little bit. "I just can't believe you have feelings."

An offended sound came out of your lips. You slapped his shoulder, once, twice, three times, ignoring his yelps.

"I'm sorryyyyy!" Heeseung cried, squirming away from you. "Ack! What is your problem, dude— Ow! I said I'm sorry!"

"Take that back, you freak!"

"I did...!"

Heeseung never thought that he'd wake up on some mornings and see you in his kitchen, scouring his pantry and fridge for food. 

At first, Heeseung found himself panicking every time he inevitably trekked downstairs, all groggy and shirtless, at noon and you were there munching on cereal.

"Why— What are you—" Heeseung would stare at you horrified, immediately feeling shy because he was shirtless. How could you be so... so casual?! "How did you even get in?!"

You'd just shrug nonchalantly, ignoring Heeseung's spluttering. 

"I asked your mom for an extra key," you had pulled out of your pocket. "See?"

And ever since then, it wasn't common for Heeseung to hear the front door cracking open, followed by the sound of rustling in the kitchen and living room.

Initially, Heeseung made a point to freshen up before clambering down to give you an earful for turning the TV's volume too high. He made sure to throw on a shirt, maybe brush his hair and teeth and wash his face. 

But the moment that Heeseung no longer relied on his biological clock and his alarm clock to wake him up because the ruckus that you'd make in his kitchen was loud enough to shake him out of his slumber, he realized that there was really no escaping you.

"Turn it down, will you?!" Heeseung would shout from upstairs, barely awake. You'd groan, but you'd comply. After all, it was his house that you were raiding.

It was weird. Heeseung never thought that he'd become comfortable with you like this, and in such a short amount of time. There was a level of friendship between the two of you no matter what. You'd grown up together, that was undeniable.

But Heeseung had always expected you and him to actually become friends through other means. He'd always thought that something bigger, more dramatic, would happen, something that would force the two of you to finally get along.

But all it took was for you to be bored one day and go to his house.

Had he been misinterpreting everything? All this time, Heeseung always thought that there was a wall around you, something that he couldn't break down. Yet here he was now, minding his own business while you ate at his kitchen island.

It made him think, was it college and summertime that made the two of you like this? Or has it always been like this, and he never noticed it?

It made him think back to his childhood.

He had so many distinct memories of you.

You pushing him down the slide, you calling him stupid, you pulling his hair when you were bored.

But there were also other memories, ones that Heeseung had to think hard about, ones that made him question whether or not his memory was playing tricks on him.

He could remember you following him upstairs after one of your families' dinners when you guys were six years-old. 

If there was something six year-old Heeseung and you could agree on, it was that the adults' conversations at dinner were too boring and convoluted to follow. 

Heeseung faintly remembered the way you paused briefly in front of the shelf in the corner of his room. It was the shelf that he displayed his comic books and superhero figurines on, a collection that he'd spent all of his allowance money on. 

Heeseung had ignored you as you messed around with his stuffed animals, opting to read his comic books in silence. You had crawled up beside him, your squeaky voice pulling Heeseung's head out of the pages.

"What's that?" you had asked him.

Heeseung's teeth sunk into his bottom lip. He remembered what happened after you asked that clearly.

"A comic book," young Heeseung had said annoyedly, shooting you a glare. "Duh."

Heeseung could distinctly remember how he felt at that moment. Embarrassment. His brother, his brother's friends, and Heeseung's own friends liked to tease him for his nerdy interests.

Six year-old you didn't take the hint, only further poking and prying him. Your fingers plucked one of the pages, curiously looking at the screen-toned pages and text bubbles. "What's it about?"

Heeseung had snatched the comic book from you, so hard that the page you were gripping ripped. His memory was fuzzy here, but from what he could recall, Heeseung got angry and yelled at you. He had pushed you, making you bump into his figurine shelf. One of his bigger and sharper figurines managed to knock over, falling and hitting your square in the face.

It was nothing serious, just a scratch, but you were crying by the end of it.

As an adult, Heeseung cringed at the memory.

Poor, awkward six year-old Heeseung, who thought you were making fun of him when really you were just interested.

And after that, you never asked him about his superhero comics again.

As Heeseung now peered at you scrolling through movies to watch, he couldn't help but notice how you hovered over all the superhero movies, before moving past them. He wondered how different things would have been if he didn't yell at you that day. In fact, he wondered how different things would have been if he didn't yell at you at all.

Because now that Heeseung thought about it, all of his memories of you annoying him were really just you wanting to talk to him. When you slapped his shoulder and called him stupid, it wasn't you trying to be mean to him. You were just like that.

Had he taken everything wrong all this time?

First, it started with you eating in his kitchen everyday.

The next thing Heeseung knew, you were forcing him to go outside everyday, one way or another. This must be the most sunlight that Heeseung has ever had in his entire life.

On some days, you wanted to go on walks around the neighborhood.

"Do you remember that house?" you asked him once, pointing to the house at the end of the block. 

Heeseung's lips lifted. "Of course I do. How could I forget?"

You chuckled. "Hell-bound dogs, right?"

Heeseung could remember the day. When you and him were ten years-old, you went trick-or-treating down the neighborhood. The house at the end of the block was new to the neighborhood, so the two of you kids had no clue what your new neighbor was like.

Big mistake. That year, Heeseung was dressed as a demon with a plastic demonic mask, while you were a witch.

The two of you had no idea that your neighbor would be so... afraid... of two children dressed as a demon and as a witch. 

As fast as you rang that doorbell, chanting trick or treat!, the two of you were sent running back home at full speed, with a shouting neighbor threatening to call the police on you "hell-bound dogs." And that's how that neighbor earned the name Ms. Hell-Bound Dogs.

Poor you.

"Do you think she's still alive?" you grinned cheekily, nudging the boy.

"Who?"

"You know..." you drawled your syllables, "Ms. Hell-Bound Dogs."

Heeseung scoffed. "Of course she is!"

"But it's been nine years!" you shrugged. "You don't know what happens in nine years."

"She wasn't that old," Heeseung reasoned. You sent him a look. The both of you collectively recalled that neighbor being a hag. "Okay, maybe we were just young, so everyone looked old to us."

You hummed. "You're right."

As the two of you approached that house, preparing to pass it, you were engulfed with silence. The neighborhood that you grew up in held so many memories. 

You and Heeseung had spent the entire walk pointing to various houses and obscure things in the neighborhood, recalling old stories of memories of the shenanigans that the two of you would have with them. Heeseung couldn't remember the last time he laughed like this. It wasn't the type of laugh that made him fall to his knees and well up tears in his eyes.

It was more like a laugh that felt mixed with a sob. In a weird way. Each laugh that tumbled from his lips felt so foreign, yet so familiar. 

The type of laugh that could only be elicited by an old friend.

And it was then that Heeseung realized that that's what you were to him. An old friend.

"I dare you to knock on Ms. Hell-Bound Dogs," you said suddenly. You loved to do this, even when you were a kid.

"No," Heeseung shook his head, hiding a chuckle. "I am not doing that."

"C'mon," you nudged him again. "It'll be fun."

Heeseung narrowed his eyes.

"And we'll get to know if she's still alive."

Heeseung looked at Ms. Hell-Bound Dogs' door.

He was curious.

And besides, it would be payback for chasing you two out all those years ago.

Heeseung sighed.

"Fine."

It couldn't be that bad, right? Heeseung and you were older now. You wouldn't be afraid of some old lady. Right?

Wrong.

Because the next thing Heeseung knew, you were carrying him princess style, running as fast as you could down the street. The both of you were cursing at the top of your lungs, shrieking for your dear lives. Heeseung's large body awkwardly draped into your arms, his arms clumsily around your neck, but the two of you were too scared shitless to care.

The moment that you reached the comforts of the Lee house, Heeseung and you caught your breath, keeling over.

After a few moments of just breathing, the two of you made eye-contact. 

At first, you just stared at each other, wondering what the fuck just happened.

But then a smile began to spread on your lips, then on Heeseung's lips, and suddenly the two of you were laughing. Laughing so hard that your stomachs hurt.

"She's way scarier than I remember!" you cried, clutching your stomach as you gripped Heeseung's shoulder for stability. 

"I— I know!" Heeseung laughed. He wiped away his tears, shoving his face in his hands. "I can't believe we just did that!"

And the second thing that Heeseung realized that day was that you, too, were a loser. 

"What’s got you smiling at your phone, Hee?" Heeseung’s dad asked him in the car one afternoon. The Lees had a short weekend getaway, and they were now on their way back. It was no denying that Heeseung had been on his phone much more than he usually was.

"Yeah," his brother nodded in agreement. "You've been texting a lot these days."

Heeseung's mother gasped. "You didn't get a girlfriend, did you?"

The whole car erupted, the tires of the Lee car skrrting against the wheels abruptly. His dad and brother whooped, while his mother excitedly squealed.

..... Except Heeseung heard none of this.

Because he had his earphones jammed in his ears, completely absent as he stared at the window.

The offense?

Heeseung was busy blasting your summer playlist.

Look, it wasn't because he liked you or anything. It was just that your summer playlist had all the songs that he liked! Maybe except a few...

The other day when Heeseung found himself in the passenger seat of your car chowing down on fast food, the two of you talked about music. Surprisingly, you had a lot in common in terms of music taste.

You guys ended up riding along the coastal highway late into the night, just sharing songs.

Heeseung remembered how the traffic lights reflected off your face, illuminating your pretty eyes. You chuckled at a few songs that came up.

"You know," you had smiled, but your brows furrowed, "Kai sent me this song when we were dating Sophomore Year."

And when another song came up, you furrowed your brows again. "I think EJ sent me this one when we were dating."

And again. "Oh! When I was dating..."

And for some reason, Heeseung couldn't bring himself to listen to any of the songs that your high school exes sent you. It could've been his favorite song, but for some reason, any association with your past lovers made Heeseung feel sick.

Heeseung couldn't figure out why he was so bothered. There were songs that he swore he could never hate, but it left such a bitter taste in his mouth that another man sent you songs.

Now, Heeseung's nose curled as he glanced at the song now playing.

I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys. Everyone knew this song, so it shouldn't be a surprise that one of your exes sent you this. But still. Heeseung felt uneasy listening to it. He couldn't figure out why. It was such a weird feeling. His heart felt like it was throbbing in his chest, tightening at the thought of it.

By now, Heeseung was certain that Jay's earlier report about you having a crush on him was outdated. It's been a while since Heeseung's thought about it, and while it still made him burn up, he was convinced that even if you did like him, that was the past. There was no use in dwelling on it anymore.

His finger hovered over the skip button for a few moments, taking in the sound of the rough bass. 

Heeseung didn't know why he felt a sense of disappointment. Disappointed that you probably didn't like him like that anymore. 

Skip.

Sooo... you're not very successful at forgetting your mini crush on Heeseung. You swore that you could, especially because you thought you'd grown up.

But now as you watch the way Heeseung's big hands wrapped around the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road while your collaborative playlist plays on repeat, you're finding it difficult to pull your eyes away from him.

He was just so... loserish. He was so awkward, and clumsy, and embarrassing, yet somehow every time you saw his grimace after he tripped over his feet yet again, it made you feel so warm.

One of your old highschool friends was throwing a party at her beach house, and you were invited. You didn't want to go alone, so you begged Heeseung to go with you. And after some hefty convincing, he finally agreed.

The two of you (mostly you) had spent the entire afternoon getting ready.

You made sure to put on your tiniest dress and tallest heels, glittery makeup across your face and curly lashes lining your eyes. 

As you fixed your lipgloss in Heeseung's rearview mirror, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

You had to sit Heeseung down and give him a lesson in fashion. He was really about to go to a party in a hoodie. His entire closet consisted of baggy t-shirts and hoodies, and while they looked damn good on him, he needed proper party attire.

You searched through his entire closet, and lo and behold, you found the compression shirt that Heeseung borrowed from his brother and never returned. 

You couldn't stop looking at the veins on his forearms, or the biceps on his arms that flexed everytime he gripped the steering wheel. You knew Heeseung worked out, but seeing his toned arms in the flesh made your cheeks feel warm.

Under his big doe eyes, pouty lips, and disheveled hair was a man.

It was hard to fully conceptualize sometimes— that you were no longer the squeaky teenage girl head over heels for your nerdy childhood friend. Instead, you were a woman, and so was he.

Heeseung's eyes fluttered over to you, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as the two of you pulled up to the house.

"I don't think I know anybody here," Heeseung sighed, wringing his fingers nervously. As the two of you got out of his car and approached the door, he groaned, "It's gonna be so awkward."

"Relax," you grinned at him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "Just stick beside me the entire time."

He chewed on his bottom lip. He was uneasy. You sighed, linking your fingers with his. His eyes widened into saucers, but you ignored it. You gave his hand a squeeze. 

"You're gonna be fine," you reassured, before dragging him into the party, hand-in-hand.

The moment that you stepped inside the beach house, you could feel Heeseung tense up, squeezing your hand. 

You couldn't blame him, for the bright strobe lights, booming music, and smell of sweat, alcohol, and drugs hit your senses immediately.

"Just follow me," you whispered to him. You shot him another smile. "C'mon. Let's get some drinks."

And despite what everyone liked to think, you were a law-abiding citizen. You were not about to get wasted, and you were under the drinking age anyway. You got yourself orange juice and Heeseung apple juice (something that you knew he'd like because you used to argue about it).

You found it a bit entertaining as you went around the house, saying hi to all of your old classmates and friends, while Heeseung followed you like a lost puppy. You had him hold you by the shoulders, finding it awfully endearing every time he squeezed them.

"I thought you hated her," he whispered into your ear after you just greeted someone, striking up an animated conversation with her. 

"I do," you chuckled. Of course Heeseung would remember. "She's why me and Taehyun broke up."

You heard Heeseung's breath hitch, a gasp in his throat. "Really? That's fucked."

You chuckled again. So cute. "I know."

Every time you encountered someone that Heeseung personally disliked, you could feel him gripping your shoulders. It was cute. 

"Is that Heeseung Lee?!" a squeaky voice suddenly filled you and Heeseung's ears. And the next thing you knew, Heeseung was being crowded around by a group of girls, leading him to be whisked away from you. You couldn't remember any of their names, but you definitely remembered who they were.

When you said that Heeseung was a loser, you meant it in an endearing, mean-but-not-really way. 

These girls were actual bullies in high school, and for a time, they'd bully Heeseung. If it weren't for you scaring them off everytime, Heeseung might be dead.

But there they were, crowding around and cooing at Heeseung, touching his arms and batting their eyelashes at them as if they didn't bully the shit out of him. 

"I didn't know you got so hot, Hee!"

"If I knew you'd be so strong, I would've fucked you in high school."

"What're you doing after this, Heeseung?"

You could sense Heeseung's discomfort. From the way that he recoiled from each touch, to the way his wide eyes occasionally met yours, to the way that his lips curled.

And it made your blood boil.

Not only were these the people that went out of their way to hurt him, here they were acting like Heeseung would forget just because they thought he was hot. Blatantly disrespectful.

Help me, his eyes read. And of course you did.

You marched over to where they were, creeping up behind Heeseung and grabbing his shoulder and yanking him backward away from the hoard. 

"Get behind me," you whispered to him, and Heeseung immediately complied. 

"Hi, guys!" you greeted with a tight-lipped smile. You could feel Heeseung's fingers playing with the lacing at the back of your dress, something he did when he was nervous.

"[Name]!" the girls exclaimed, but you could tell that they were unhappy with your presence. "We were just talking to ourHee."

"Oh!" You faked excitement, flashing them another smile. You narrowed your eyes at them, before reaching behind you to grab Heeseung's wrist. "Well, me and Heeseung were about to leave just now."

"Aww!" one of them whined, yet she still managed to bat her eyelashes at Heeseung, who shifted uncomfortably. 

"C'mon, [Name]!" another crossed her arms. You could tell that her tone was playful, but you knew better. "You got all the hot guys during high school. Let us have this one, won't you?"

You feigned a giggle. 

"No, sorry girl," you said in a chirpy tone. You didn't want to seem hostile. "This one's mine."

The girls blinked at you. "Yours?"

"Mhm!" you smiled again. You squeezed Heeseung's hand in yours, bringing it up to show them your interlocked fingers. "Right, Babe?"

Heeseung stared at you for a few moments, before nodding his head quickly, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. "O-Of course, baby."

You craned your neck up to gently press a kiss on his neck, ignoring his surprised yelp, before you turned back to the girls. "We'll be leaving now. It was nice seeing you!"

And with that, you pushed through the crowd of people, making a bee-line for the door and taking Heeseung with you.

The walk back to Heeseung’s car was silent. When the two of you got inside, it was still silent. Heeseung didn't start the engine or the music. He just sat there quietly.

"I'm sorry," he finally blurted.

"Huh?" you cocked your head. "What are you sorry about?"

"I feel like I ruined the night," Heeseung murmured, a large frown on his lips.

"What?!" you furrowed your brows, reaching out to touch his arm. "No, no, no! You didn't ruin anything."

He continued to frown. The car shook just from how loud the music was, and you could feel the bass in your chest. 

"And you had to kiss me!" he continued, shoving his face into his hands.

You furrowed your brow. Did he not like it? Was he disgusted with you?

"You shouldn't have!" Heeseung continued rambling on, using his hands. Poor boy sniffled, and it was then that you noticed the way his doe eyes welled with tears. From the way he blinked quickly while turning away from you so that you couldn't see his face told you everything. "Now everyone is going to think that you're dating me!"

You were a little hurt. "Why is that a bad thing?"

"It's a bad thing for you," Heeseung muttered into his palms, sniffling quietly. "I'm a loser, [Name]. And you're not. What if everyone starts seeing you differently?"

Your hand ghosted over his shoulder. "Why should anyone's opinion matter to me?"

"Because!" Heeseung whipped his head over to you. With the sun setting, orange light reflected off his cheeks and red nose, as well as his glassy eyes. 

"Because....." he sighed, before stopping. "What, you don't regret it?"

You crossed your arms. 

"The only reason I'd regret kissing you is if you felt uncomfortable." You met his eyes. "Did I make you uncomfortable?"

Heeseung stared at you for a few times, before he whipped his head away again. But this time, it wasn't out of shame or remorse. You could tell by his shaky voice, pink ears, and rigid body language that he was embarrassed more than anything.

"No..." he mumbled. "The k-kiss... didn't make me uncomfortable. I actually kind of— Never mind."

If you hadn't known him all your life, you wouldn't have been able to tell that Heeseung was flustered. Flustered beyond reason. If you asked him a question about superhero comics, a topic that he knew front and back, he still wouldn't be able to give a coherent answer. That was how flustered he was.

How cute.

"Hmm?" you hummed, the corners of your lips raising. "Complete that thought."

Heeseung groaned something that you couldn't understand, shoving his face back into his palms. You chuckled as you pulled him away from his hands, gently clutching his jaw and forcing him to look at you.

"I wanna know what you were going to say, Heeseung," you rasped, unable to hide the slyness in your voice.

He let out an embarrassed squeak. Even if it weren't for the orange sunlight, you would still be able to tell how red Heeseung got. The warmth emitting from his face was so strong that you could feel it. Poor boy couldn't even look you in the eye.

So cute.

"I-I..."

You hummed. "Go on."

"I was just going to say..." Heeseung squeezes his eyes shut, something he did when he was so embarrassed that he'd explode. "I l-liked the kiss."

.

.

.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued to ramble on. "I-I mean I didn't mind it that much. Itwasjustnicewhenitcamefromyouanditmademefeelreallywarmandmushyand—"

"Let's get out of here, Heeseung," you interrupted him with a reassuring smile. "We can go somewhere else."

"L-Like where?"

You grinned.

Where it all began.

"The playground?"

Heeseung gaped as you pulled him out of the car. He let you drive this time, fully expecting to go somewhere like the pier or the end of some road where it was quiet. Not the playground.

"Yessir."

The playground near your neighborhood was nothing special. It had a spiral slide, swings, rock-climbing, telephone, a basketball court, hopscotch, and then some. It looked much smaller than you and Heeseung remembered.

This was where it all started, where you and Heeseung met as young children.

Things have changed since then. The swing set has been remodeled, the sandbox removed, and the railing have been repainted with a different color from your childhood.

"C'mon," you tugged on Heeseung's arm.

Heeseung stared at you. By now the sky was beginning to turn blue and the streetlamps were on. Even so, you still managed to glow. All his life, you glowed. You glowed so bright that you outshined him, so bright that you attracted everyone like a moth to a flame, and he never understood why.

But now he did.

The mischievous glint in your eyes, the grin spread across your face, and the way you called out to him to go play— it was like nothing changed. You were still you, still the cheeky little shithead that you always were. And he loved it. He loved you. Maybe he always had.

Some things really never changed. 

"Heeseung, push meeeeeee!" you shouted from across the playground. As a kid, Heeseung loved to collect rocks. As a grown-up he thought it was ridiculous, but now Heeseung couldn't resist the call of the rocks. 

Meanwhile, you were on the swings.

"You still don't know how to do it yourself?!" Heeseung yelled back. 

"I doooon't!"

Heeseung sighed, shoving the rocks that he collected into his pockets before trudging over to you. Though, not without chuckling to himself.

After running around the playground a little bit and taking a trip down memory lane and whatnot, you followed Heeseung to the basketball courts. In your middle school days, you remembered how Heeseung would ditch you at the swings to go play basketball.

You sat next to the base of the hoop, just far enough to not get hit.

You watched in awe as Heeseung dribbled the ball, passing the orangey ball from palm to palm. He was always good at basketball. You remember pressuring him in highschool to try out for the school team. And when he made it, nothing made you feel giddier than seeing the proud and excited look on his face. That's why you went to all of his games in secret, just to silently cheer him on. Of course, you'd never let him know that.

With each flick of his wrist to shoot the ball, you couldn't hide your amazement as he made every basket.

Every.

Single.

One.

Tall, strong, talented, and a loser.

Gosh, you wanted him so bad.

Him and his nerdy little antics.

On Heeseung's end, he made sure to play his best.

Sure, he was in his childhood basketball court. Sure, he wasn't playing against anyone else. But that was exactly why he had to do his best.

You were watching.

He'd never forget how you ran up to him after seeing him hoop one afternoon, exclaiming, "You need to try out for the basketball team!"

Back then, he thought you were being mean, but your words rang through his head enough that he actually did try out for the team. And he made it.

Now that he was an adult, Heeseung realized that you were anything but mean. If anything, you were encouraging him. 

And now that you were watching him play all these years later, Heeseung had to prove to you that your words were not in vain.

"Woooooow," you drew out your syllables as you watched, silently clapping your hands at each basket. 

Heeseung chuckled, jogging up to where you were. Letting the basketball roll across the court, Heeseung crouched down to your sitting figure, wiped the sweat on his forehead with the back of his palm.

"You're so good at basketball, Heeseung," you said coolly, trying your best to hide the fact that you were 100% gawking at him and his sweaty face.

Heeseung laughed as he caught his breath. The smell of the night air was making him feel so alive, so bold.

"All thanks to you," he breathed as he ran a hand through his sweaty hair. 

"Nah," you waved him off. "You're giving me too much credit. It's all because of your hard work."

Heeseung shook his head, lightly punching your arm. "It's your support that made me so good."

You shook your head. "Not at all."

The boy gave you a look, quirking his brow, almost like he was doubting you. "You think I never noticed you at my games?"

.

.

.

Shit.

"Y-You knew I was at your games?!" 

He knew all this time?!

!!!

Warmth washed over you.

All those times you screamed his name from across the court to cheer his name, all those times you snuck, all those times you jabbed at him for playing too much even though you spent too much time at his games.

Your cheeks felt warm as your hands found refuge on your head, shaking as you squeezed your eyes shut.

"No, no, no!" you cried. "That's so embarrassing!"

Heeseung's deep laugh made you even more embarrassed, especially the way he cooed at you and put a hand on your knee reassuringly.

"Of course I knew you were there," Heeseung said, putting a hand on his chin. "I knew it every single time. I don't think you missed any of my games."

You squeezed your eyes shut even harder, groaning. "Stooooop."

Heeseung laughed again, before clicking his tongue. He got back up and strolled toward the stray basketball.

You didn't know why, but his nonchalance and ease at picking up the ball made your heart pound. He was just so... strong.

Sure, he was a loser most of the time, but on the court, he was a completely different person.

As Heeseung began to dribble again, you had to admit that it was attractive.

With one more bounce, Heeseung snapped his head at you, meeting your eyes. 

"This one's for you."

Your heart drummed in your chest. This was the type of stuff that happened in movies, when the basketball player dedicates a hoop for their loved one. How were you a grown woman and still feeling giddy and nervous over this?

It felt like it happened in slow motion. 

You watched as the ball seemingly floated between his fingertips. The sound of the rubber ball as it collided with the concrete courts filled your ears, coupled by the sound of your heart pounding in your chest. 

Heeseung's tongue swiped over his bottom lip. With a flick of the wrist and a jump, he shot the ball up into the air. 

It stayed up in the air for what felt like an eternity, before it propelled forward.

There it was, its orange skin against the blue night sky.

And as gravity pulled it toward Earth, you held your breath.

Closer and closer, the ball inched toward the red-brimmed hoop.

And just as you held your breath...

The ball...

Missed.

.

.

.

You deadpanned.

Heeseung was going to dedicate a ball to you... and he missed the hoop completely.

That's...

So cute.

You snorted, before you keeled over, some of the hardest laughs of your entire light spilling out of your mouth. This was hysterical. You laughed so hard that your stomach hurt.

Heeseung was such a loser, and it made you feel like a little girl.

Meanwhile, Heeseung stood there, completely red in the face.

"Sh-Shut up!" he grumbled as you laughed. How embarrassing!

When you finally calmed down, you had to hold yourself back from cooing at how cute Heeseung's embarrassed face was. But you just look at him with a grin. 

"Try again."

And he did.

And it felt like suddenly the world was against him.

Just a few minutes ago, Heeseung made every single one of his shots.

And now that it actually mattered, he missed.

Every.

Single.

One.

And to make things worse, you laughed at every one of his missed shots.

"Heeseung Lee," you announced as he gave up, taking a seat beside you. "You are such a loser."

He groaned, pulling his knees to his chest. 

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, listening to the grasshoppers sing their hearts out. 

Neither of you wanted to move. Because if you did, it would mean one step closer to this night ending. Of course, there was always tomorrow and the rest of the summer to see each other, but to be separated even for a little bit as night passes was too long.

It felt like so much had changed, but at the same time, it felt like everything was exactly as it was left.

Feeling a stroke of boldness, Heeseung guided your head onto his shoulder, before slithering his arm to wrap around your own shoulders.

You guys stayed like that for a little bit.

Heeseung gazed at you. You could be lost in thought or dozing off, he wouldn't be able to tell.

He wanted this to last a little bit longer than forever.

Something was changing and neither of you could tell what it was.

Maybe it was now early July, and the heat was unbearable. Or maybe it was the intense scent of bug repellent that had gotten to your heads. It could be all those frozen yogurts you guys ate in your car, or the amount of shitty superhero movies you binged together.

Whatever it was, it was changing everything.

A single atom was out of place, a molecule of carbon was in the wrong spot. Heeseung couldn’t put his finger on it.

The air felt so warm, but not in a humid, suffocating way. 

More like in a rosy way, like someone put a filter over Heeseung's world and now everything was more vibrant.

Heeseung had reason to suspect that you were the culprit.

He'd known you his whole life, and it was only up until recently that he understood why people loved you so much. Because who wouldn't? You weren't just beautiful, but so goddamn incredible. In every way possible.

Heeseung couldn't explain it. He didn't think he had a crush on you. 

In all the romance books and games and movies that he'd consumed, they portrayed crushes as this magical unicorn of all things. Nervous, awkward, clumsy, and an upward battle.

But when Heeseung thought of you, he didn't feel any of these things. 

He felt at home. Comfortable, as if he could be as much of a nerdy loser as he wanted and he'd still be treated the same way. 

Unlike all what fiction would tell him, you weren't some god to him, nor were you a venerated saint. You were just you, and that was already enough to make his heart race. 

There wasn't that urge to constantly hold your hands or kiss your lips (not that he didn't think about it!).

Rather, there was a need to always be with you, to be let into your world, to listen to every thought that you had, to hear your laugh until he fell asleep.

Maybe Heeseung didn't have a crush on you, but it was certainly something else.

And it was the same for you.

You've had crushes, and you've had boyfriends.

You always felt like you needed to be perfect for them, to be drop-dead gorgeous and put-together all the time, to be the kindest version of yourself.

But when it came to Heeseung, it didn't feel like that. 

You could be as brash and annoying as you wanted, without the fear that he'd shun you. In fact, Heeseung would fight back or laugh.

While with all your boyfriends you wanted intimacy, validation, and constant reassurance, Heeseung felt safe. 

You craved nothing from Heeseung except... Well, Heeseung himself. 

And it was driving you nuts.

Help!

It was another family dinner, with both of your families, this time at your own house.

Heeseung and you sat across from each other. From when you were children until now, the two of you still ignored everything that the adults said, opting to stare and make faces at each other.

Except this time, it was absolutely impossible to look at each other without bursting out laughing. 

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, holding back a smile as you glued your eyes to your plate. If you dared to look up and even catch sight of Heeseung's hair, you'd probably laugh.

You gripped your fork. Even if you weren't looking at him, you still somehow could hear him. The way he obnoxiously and loudly poked at his food with his fork was something you always jabbed at him for, and it was still noticeable to you now. Except, instead of annoying you, it only made it harder to not laugh.

"[Name]," Ms. Lee's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked up with shaky eyes, and when your eyes passed over Heeseung, you had to bite back a giggle. Alas, you weren't strong enough to hold back a smile.

"Yes?" you responded. From the corner of your eye, you could see Heeseung's nose scrunching. You sent him a quick glare, one that could only last a millisecond.

Don't you dare make a funny face or I'll spill my water all over you, your glare read. But it didn't seem like Heeseung cared.

"What have you been up to all summer?" Ms. Lee smiled. "Any summer programs?"

"No, not this summer," you answered politely. "I've just been—"

Your mother interjected, wiggling her eyebrows. "I've noticed [Name] and Heeseung hanging out a lot this summer."

From under the table you felt Heeseung kick you, but you still didn't dare look at his face. You had to bite inside of your cheek to keep laughter from tumbling out, your eyes wobbling.

"Oh, really?" Ms. Lee looked over at her son. "I didn't know you and [Name] were close, Hee!"

And this was when you unfortunately made eye-contact with Heeseung. Poor boy, his lips wobbled and twitched, trying his hardest to keep it in.

"Y-Yeah," he answered quickly, his voice shaking. That in itself was enough to make you let out a giggle. But before it could be uncontrollable, you clamped your hand over your mouth. You watched as Heeseung did the same, except this time, his face was bright red.

"That's so great!" you moms rejoiced. "We were so afraid that you guys would hate each other forever! You know, when you were kids, you used to..."

You and Heeseung tuned everyone out as they joined in the conversation about your old antics.

Instead, the two of you stared at each other, both completely blank-faced. But a simple look at you and it would be painfully obvious by the way your lips twitched that you were fighting for your life to not burst out with laughter.

And it was when Heeseung was taking a sip of water that you decided to make your attack on him. Just as he was raising his glass to his lips, you quickly made a face at him.

And just as fast as his entire face contorted, a loud laugh fell from his lips. Unfortunately for him, he still had water on his mouth. Poor boy began choking on his water, keeling over himself as he coughed up a storm. 

And while everyone was busy helping him, you were busy laughing your ass off.

You win this one, was the agreement.

"You were 100% playing dirty," Heeseung whined.

You rolled your eyes. "Who gives a fuck?"

After you and Heeseung were excused from the dinner table, the two of you went up to your room.

Currently, the two of you were just lazing around your room. Both of you were on your bed, but Heeseung laid upside-down, with his head hanging off the edge. Although you barely exchanged any words, it wasn't awkward. 

You scrolled through your socials, while Heeseung played his games on his phone. Just the two of you in your own worlds, occasionally breaking the silence to make a jab at each other or to show the other something.

"Oh my god!" you cried suddenly, tossing your phone aside and putting your face in your hands, your fingertips rubbing your temples. "What the fuck?!"

Heeseung, startled, looked at you concerned. "What happened?"

When you groaned into your palms, shaking your head profusely, Heeseung shut off his game, putting his phone away. He sat himself upright, shuffling over to you.

"What happened?" he asked again.

"Bad!" you cried, sinking your head into your pillows. "Horrible! Deplorable! Despicable!"

Heeseung stared at you questioningly, his brows cocking into an arch.

"Tell meeeee," he prodded you, watching as you only sunk back into your pillows. You grabbed one of your plushies and shoved your face into it, flipping over so that you could kick your feet. 

You groaned more, before you screamed into your plush. "I hate men!"

Heeseung poked you again, this time a little bit harder. "Tell meeeee. Did your ex text you?"

"Worse!" your words were slightly muffled, but Heeseung could hear the sheer irritation. "Way, way, way, way, wayworse!"

You did this a little bit longer, before you huffed and flipped yourself over once more. Sitting upright, you saw Heeseung sitting there patiently, waiting for you to explain to him what the fuck was going on.

"Okay so," you began, wincing at the next words you were about to say. "You know how my Instagram is public? So that anyone can message me?"

Heeseung narrowed his eyes. "Yeeeeessss?"

You grumbled something under your breath, taking Heeseung's hands in yours. You traced shapes on his palms and played with his fingers, anything to distract yourself from the godforsaken things you'd have to say next.

"Well," you sighed, shaking your head. "I got a dick pic from some random guy."

Heeseung blinked.

"Oh."

.

.

.

"Wait, you got a what?!"

Yes, you really received an unsolicited picture of some guy's dick. Insane, really.

It was now Heeseung's turn to tweak out. 

"Oh my god!" he fell back into the pillows, grabbing at his hair. How ridiculous! "What the fuuuuuck?!"

"I know right?!" you fell back with him. The two of you laid like that, your heads next to each other. 

It was silent again, save for the sound of your parents chattering downstairs.

"Did you block him?" Heeseung suddenly asked.

"Nope," you sighed loudly. "Not yet."

Heeseung hummed. 

He couldn't imagine how many times you'd probably encountered this type of situation. And if this was the first time, it was already too much. If he were in your position, he'd have absolutely no idea how to react either. He'd be paralyzed, with no idea what to do! Maybe except...

"Do you want to fuck with him?" Heeseung blurted.

"Huh?"

"You know..." the boy swiped his tongue over his lips, wringing his fingers. "Fuck with him."

You looked at him, your head tilted as if you didn't understand.

"I-I mean, if this guy's going to be disrespectful, it wouldn't hurt to give him a taste of his own medicine, right?"

You nodded, understanding. "But how?"

Heeseung's nose scrunched. He had many ideas, but he wasn't sure which one was the best. "Well, do you want to have fun with it or do you want to genuinely scare this guy off?"

You thought for a second, before a sly grin made its way across your cheeks. "There's no harm in having fun. I can just block him afterwards, easy peasy."

"Oh," Heeseung said. Then, a good idea popped into his head. His lips curved. "I have just the idea for that."

"Is this okay?"

"Hmm, a little to the left."

Heeseung's plan was funny, but it also made you feel... mushy.

The idea was for Heeseung to respond on your phone pretending to be your boyfriend, something that would probably scare the other guy off. 

After a little bit of stalking, you guys concluded that the guy was a frat bro, so it would be best to prepare some pictures for evidence.

The first picture you decided to take was one that showed just a small part of your back and shoulders in bed, just enough to make it seem like you were in bed with someone. That way, it would be believable if Heeseung pretended to be your boyfriend.

So here you were, laying in bed with the blankets strategically draped over you, pretending to be asleep, while Heeseung snapped 'candid' pictures. You turned off all the lights to make it more believable, so if your parents walked in now they'd be confused as all hell.

"It's a little blurry," Heeseung remarked as he looked at the camera roll.

"That's perfect," you rolled over, facing him. "It'll look even more candid."

The next picture that you prepared was a little bit more risky, but all the more impactful.

"So... So.. Uhm—" Heeseung's cheeks burned as he explained it to you. "I think it would scare him if he thought he was messing with a super buff guy, you know?"

"Uh huh."

"W-Well," Heeseung grimaced. "If I send— like— a picture of my muscles, or something, I think it would scare him off."

You blinked. "Is this just an excuse to show off your biceps?"

"No!"

As you tuned out Heeseung's rambling, you thought for a few seconds. If you were a guy, and some girl's boyfriend caught you trying to flirt with her, what would make you piss yourself?

Well, it would definitely be any explicit indication of intimacy... Your lips moved faster than your mind.

"What if you sent a picture of you with hickeys and lipstick marks?" you gushed.

Heeseung choked on his spit, coughing so loud that you thought he would burst a lung. His face was bright red, his eyes as wide as saucers as he stared at you horrified.

"A picture of me with what?!"

"Hickeys and lipstick marks," you said casually.

"And where would I get them?!" Heeseung was going to faint. If you said what he think you were going to say, he'd absolutely combust—

"Me, duh."

Flames. Absolute flames. That's what Heeseung felt on his skin. Were you just suggesting that you could give him hickeys and lipstick marks? His heart was pounding in his chest, so loud that he could barely hear his own thoughts.

"I mean, if you don't want to, we can just—"

"No!" Heeseung interrupted you, as if he wasn't as red as a tomato. "I can take it!"

And that's how Heeseung found himself sitting on your bedroom floor, his body so hot and hands clammy as he watched you roll up his sleeve. 

Here was the plan for this picture: You'd put a few lipstick marks and hickeys on his biceps and neck. That way, he could snap a quick picture of that area alone while flexing, effectively scaring off the guy.

(Or maybe this entire plan was a very poor excuse for Heeseung to pretend to be your boyfriend and for you to kiss him.)

"Have you ever gotten a hickey?"

Heeseung's cheeks flared. "N-No."

You quickly put on your most pigmented lipstick. Slowly, you leaned closer to Heeseung's neck. He could feel your breath against his ears, making him want to squirm away. You put your hand on the other side of him so that you could stabilize yourself.

"Well," you whispered. "It doesn't hurt, so don't worry."

You brought your hand up to Heeseung's hair, gently tilting his head back to get better access to his neck. 

"Can I...?" you rasped, wetting your lips.

"Y-Yes."

And with that, your lips attacked his neck. You made sure to press on firm kisses so that the imprint of your lips would be defined on his neck. 

With each kiss, Heeseung let out a quiet whimper, his eyes squeezing shut as his arm jerked out to grasp your arm gently.

He felt like he was dreaming, because here he was, having you kiss him. No intense build-up, no dramatic reason, just because it was funny and you wanted to fuck with someone. God, Heeseung would be lying if he said he never thought about what your lips would feel like. They were always so pretty, and so soft.

All throughout his life, Heeseung had never had a romantic experience. It was his first time ever being kissed on the neck, and goddamnit was he sensitive. The way your lips pressed against his skin made him feel so weak. 

He wanted to be closer to you, closer than whatever this stupid little plan was. He craved it.

His other arm came up to slither around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

"Hees— Heeseung— Ah—" you pulled your lips away, both of your hands coming up to clutch his shoulders for stability. "What are you doing?"

Heeseung's pupils were blown out. 

"Get on top of me," he breathed desperately, "Please."

"Shiiiit," you cursed under your breath, before you plopped down on his lap, your legs on either side of his hips. 

The two of you locked eyes, staring into each other's swirling pools of color. You could've been lost in Heeseung's eyes for minutes or for hours, there wouldn't have been a difference.

Oh, how much you wanted to kiss him. Not just a stupid little kiss on the neck. You wanted to kiss him on the lips, kiss him so hard that he forgot his own name.

Yeah, you had a crush on Heeseung Lee. You always had, and it seemed like no matter what, you were always bound to be downright attracted to him. God, you wanted him so bad.

Meanwhile, blaring alarms were going off in Heeseung's head. 

He wanted to kiss you so bad. He wanted to drown in you, for you to be the only thing enveloping his senses.

Except... he had no idea how to— he had no idea now to express that. And it was making his head spin.

You opened your mouth to speak, not realizing that Heeseung, too, had something to say.

"Hee—"

"I—"

Both of you shut your mouths so quickly.

"S-Sorry," you stuttered. "Go ahead."

Heeseung blinked a few times, before he shut his eyes. You watched how he parted his lips, yet no sound came out, almost as if he was searching for the words in his head to say. 

"I-I—" he started, before cutting himself off. His eyes squeezed together, his brows crashing together. You could feel his body tense under you.

"I don't know," he finally got out. "I-I— I don't know what—"

You brought your hand up to cup his cheek reassuringly. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and your thumb rubbed his cheek gently. 

"Tell me," you whispered. "Tell me, baby."

Heeseung gulped. He felt like he'd melt under your gaze, but the way you were so gentle encouraged him. Heeseung kept his eyes glued on the floor, because if he even dared to look you in the eye he'd turn to stone.

He took a deep breath. He'd tell you how you made him feel. It shouldn't be too hard, right?

But the moment that he opened his mouth, his brain turned to mush.

"I want to— I just— I don't know—" he stammered— "I wish I could— You know— It's hard to say, and—"

And if it wasn't for the way you stifled a giggle, Heeseung thought he would've gone on like this for another ten minutes. 

The moment that Heeseung realized you were smiling at his struggle, he shut his mouth, letting out a groan. He threw his head back, bringing his hands up to shove his face in.

"Shut up," he groaned. This was so embarrassing. He could feel heat prickling on his skin. His face was so hot that he thought he'd explode. "Shutupshutupshutup!"

You giggled again, this time using both your hands to cup his face. 

Despite your cool, nonchalant exterior, you were giggling and kicking your feet on the inside. 

"You're—" you breathed— "You're such a fucking loser."

Heeseung was about to tell you to shut up again, but you cut him off.

"Can I kiss you?"

You relished in the way his eyes widened, probably the widest that you've ever seen them. So cute.

"P-Please."

And with that, you smashed your lips against his. 

Poor boy, he was completely frozen at first. But as you swiped your tongue over his bottom lip, you relished in the way that he let out a gasp, giving you just enough room to slip your tongue inside his mouth. You explored his mouth— every corner and every crevice was meant for you to corrupt. 

You could feel his hands fall down at his sides. Of course, a loser like Heeseung wouldn't know where to put them. As you taste his lips, you guided his hands to your thighs. He gasped again, and you took this as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. As you did, Heeseung squeezed your thighs, letting out a whine.

Finally, you pulled away.

The two of you stared at each other, both breathless with swollen lips.

And as you caught your breath, you breathed, "I like you."

Maybe he would've been too stunned to speak after a kiss like that, but your words a loud "Huh?!" spill from his lips.

You grasped his chin, pulling him in again. 

"I like you," you murmured against his lips, your eyes lidded.

Heeseung's breath hitched. "I—"

"Was that what you were going to say?" you said slyly, unwilling to hide your teasing tone. A whimper came from him. "Did I beat you to it?"

You ghosted your lips over his teasingly, loving the way that Heeseung leaned forward a little bit, whining as you pulled away just enough for him to miss you.

"Just—" he murmured, "Just kiss me already."

"Gladly."

And with that, your lips crashed together. This time, Heeseung's lips were moving, too. He was a clumsy kisser, someone who had no fucking idea what he was doing. But that made the kiss even better. You've kissed many boys, but for some reason Heeseung was the best kisser you've had. You could taste him.

"Such a fucking loser," you murmured. You felt his hands slide up your waist, squeezing you.

"Yeah," Heeseung mumbled against your lips, and although his words were muffled, his voice drove you crazy. "Yourfucking loser."

Immediately you pulled away.

You looked at Heeseung, and he looked at you.

.

.

.

You bursted out laughing, and so did he.

"God, you're so cheesy!"

"Shut up!"

BONUS

You rested your cheek on Heeseung's shoulder, watching as he typed away. After all this, the two of you still needed to fulfill your plan: fuck with Mr. Dick Pic.

"What are you going to say?" you asked, nuzzling your face into Heeseung's neck. You admired the purple-pink marks littering his skin, the ones that you left. Your lipstick marks smudged when you and Heeseung were making out earlier, so you had to redo them. It was hard, because all Heeseung could do was giggle like a little girl.

"Trust me, I'll cook something up."

And cook he did.

[name]: she's busy bro

[name]: [photo]

The first photo he sent was the candid one of you.

You waited a few seconds, and Mr. Dick Pic immediately opened the message.

Heeseung hid your phone from you, so you couldn't see the guy's response.

But what you could see was how he furiously typed away.

You thought it was funny at first... until Heeseung was typing paragraphs and paragraphs so loud that you could hear his fingers tapping the screen.

"Hold on, babe, I'm fighting this guy!"

"Just block him...!"

Some things never changed.

[bestruction]

I’m supposed to be studying parasites right now, but I made the mistake of listening to some music during my break. Heather by Conan Gray started playing, and I ended up imagining how it would feel for Sakura to notice Sasuke falling in love with you—back when you were all just genin. 

She was always observant when it came to him. She’d had the biggest crush on Sasuke since she was a little girl, so of course, she was the first one to notice the changes in his behavior toward you. 

It started so subtly that she almost convinced herself it was nothing.

A shared glance. A brush of fingers when you passed him a scroll. The way his eyes lingered just a moment longer on you than they ever did on her.

Sakura had always known Sasuke. Or so she thought. Quiet, distant, brilliant—she memorized his habits the way others memorized jutsu. The way he stirred his tea. The way he said her name—always flat, always indifferent.

And yet.

Now he was different. Not louder. Not warmer. But something had shifted. Something small. 

She saw it first during training. Kakashi had asked the two of you to spar and analyze the openings in each other's strategies. You were always a little too fierce, too fast to speak your mind when you thought Sasuke was being an asshole—especially toward Naruto. 

Sasuke, who usually rolled his eyes at everything, was watching you. Not like an opponent. Like you were something he didn’t understand and wanted to.

When you pinned him—just for a second—and flashed that wild, triumphant smile, praising your victory, he smirked. And Sakura felt her chest tighten.

But that’s normal, right? Maybe he just respects your fighting.

That’s what she told herself. 

After that, weeks passed. Missions came and went. She told herself she imagined it. Actually, she was imagining everything.

It was annoying, and honestly, she wanted to hate you. But how could she?

You laughing. Him listening.

You teased him—and for once, he teased back.

He was quick to offer you his water after training.

He checked you for wounds after missions—before even checking his own. 

She thought of the way she used to draw hearts in her notebooks. How she used to watch him during class, imagining what it’d be like to break through his walls. She believed that if she always stayed loyal, always ready to accept him, he’d eventually turn around and look at her the same way she looked at him. 

The night she couldn't deny it anymore, you were all at Ichiraku—after many, many requests from Naruto. The air was warm, rich with the scent of broth, miso, and soy. Ichiraku glowed in its usual golden hue, paper lanterns swaying gently in the summer breeze. 

Naruto was stuffing his face, singing the praises of pork slices like they were sacred offerings. You sat beside Sasuke, barely speaking, but it didn’t feel like silence. Not with the way your thighs brushed beneath the bench. Not with how your shoulder leaned into his—just slightly—when you laughed at something Naruto said. There was a ghost of a smile playing on your lips, glowing with something unsaid.

Across the table, Sakura watched you.

She didn’t understand it at first—that smile. It was so soft, almost shy, like it wasn’t meant to be seen. And maybe that was why it caught her off guard. It wasn’t your usual grin, but it didn’t matter. 

“I’ll be right back,” she said, rising to go to the bathroom.

On her way back, Sakura paused just before returning.

There was a narrow angle where she could see the bench from the side, the wooden counter slicing the view like a stage curtain slightly ajar.

Not a casual brush. Not an accident. He was holding it deliberately. Your fingers were laced together—still and quiet—like they’d done it a hundred times before.

And there it was.

Sasuke’s hand, resting beneath the table, curled tightly around yours.

Sakura felt her stomach drop. Her mouth went dry. Her breath caught in her throat—not because she was surprised, but because suddenly... everything made sense.

The way you’d been acting lately. The smiles. The small glances. The softness in Sasuke’s tone when he said your name. The way you always lingered just a little longer than the rest.

That smile you wore a few minutes ago—it was his. Given to you. 

Sakura didn’t walk back immediately. She stepped out of sight, heart pounding in her ears. She didn’t even know what she felt exactly.

It wasn’t rage.

It wasn’t betrayal.

It wasn’t even jealousy—not really.

When she finally returned, she sat down, pretending nothing had happened, stirring her ramen quietly.

You didn’t notice. Neither did he.

Your fingers were already parted.

The secret was tucked back into silence.

She felt her heart ache because she loved him with her whole heart.

But unlike her, you had actually gotten close. Close enough that he let his mask slip.

[soft4changbin]

The line between us

Brothers best friend Hyunjin x reader

Summary: Hyunjin and Han Jisung’s little sister slowly fall for each other amid playful teasing, growing tension, and quiet moments in the Stray Kids dorm. Though she doesn’t live with them, her frequent visits make her part of the family—until feelings between her and Hyunjin get harder to hide.

Word count: 3,015

The Stray Kids dorm was always chaos. There were empty ramen packets on counters, blankets thrown over every surface, and someone always yelling in the background—usually Changbin.

You didn’t live there, but you might as well have. You visited often enough that the members barely looked up when you walked in now, unless it was to ask what snacks you brought.

“Jisung!” you called as you slipped your shoes off by the door.

“In the kitchen!” he yelled back.

You padded in, hoodie sleeves covering your hands, and paused when you saw Hyunjin standing beside him, hair up in a messy ponytail, licking tteokbokki sauce off his fingers. He looked over, met your eyes—and for a split second, everything around you faded out.

Then he smiled. Not the big, performative one he wore on stage, but the small, quiet smile he saved just for you. It made your heart thud uncomfortably.

“You brought the energy drinks?” Jisung asked, breaking the moment.

You blinked and turned back to your brother, dragging your gaze away from Hyunjin.

“Yeah. And gummies. And, for some reason, a single banana because the cashier said it was cute.”

Hyunjin laughed behind you. You hated how your ears warmed at the sound.

—————————————————————————

It had started slowly. Of course it had.

Hyunjin had been Jisung’s best friend for years—always at your house growing up, always teasing you, always lounging on your couch like he owned it. You hadn’t thought much of him then. He was pretty, sure, but he was Jisung’s friend. Off-limits.

And then you grew up.

Or maybe he did.

Somewhere between your visits to the dorm and their comeback schedules, he started noticing you differently. Or you noticed him noticing. You weren’t sure when it changed. Maybe it was the night he stayed up with you on the balcony at 2 a.m., passing a bag of sour gummies back and forth, listening to you ramble about how hard your first year of uni was. Maybe it was when you caught him watching you laugh at something Jeongin said, his expression unreadable.

Or maybe it was just always there, and you were finally admitting it.

Whatever it was, it made the air in the dorm feel different. Warmer. Charged.

—————————————————————————

You were curled up on the couch one afternoon, sketchbook balanced on your knees, when Hyunjin flopped down beside you.

“Draw me something,” he said.

You didn’t look up. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Something that feels like… right now.”

You side-eyed him. “That’s vague.”

He shrugged, lips quirking. “So are most things I like.”

You rolled your eyes but started sketching anyway. Hyunjin didn’t say anything, just watched you work, head tilted.

“What are you two doing?” Jisung asked, walking in.

Hyunjin sat up straighter. “Nothing. Just bothering your sister.”

Jisung huffed. “Don’t distract her. She’s better at art than you are.”

Hyunjin’s smirk slipped for just a second. You noticed.

You always noticed.

—————————————————————————

It became a pattern. Every time you visited, Hyunjin gravitated to you like it was instinct. He lingered beside you during meals. Let you braid his hair while the others gamed. Gave you his hoodie when you said you were cold—even though you weren’t.

One night, when the dorm was unusually quiet, you found him in the practice room. You hesitated in the doorway, but he spotted you in the mirror and waved you in.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked, sitting cross-legged near the wall.

Hyunjin shook his head, breath shallow from dancing. “You either?”

You shrugged. “It’s too loud in the room with Jisung. He talks in his sleep.”

Hyunjin laughed, wiping sweat from his neck with a towel. “He sings in his sleep sometimes.”

“I’ve heard.”

You both smiled, and then the silence stretched—not awkward, but full. Heavy.

“Come here,” he said.

You frowned. “Why?”

He reached out a hand. “I’ll teach you the chorus.”

You hesitated, but then your fingers were in his, and he was pulling you to your feet, positioning you in front of the mirror. You were too aware of how close he was, of his hand on your waist, the way his breath tickled your ear when he spoke.

“You’re stiff,” he murmured.

“That’s because I’m panicking.”

He laughed again, softer this time. “Don’t. I’ve got you.”

And he did.

—————————————————————————

That night, he walked you to the guest room and lingered at the door.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt Jisung.”

You blinked. “I know.”

“And I’d never cross a line with you unless…”

He trailed off.

“Unless what?” you asked, heartbeat thudding.

His gaze searched yours. “Unless you wanted me to.”

Then he left.

And you didn’t sleep.

—————————————————————————

Things changed after that. Not drastically—but enough.

The others still teased you both. Chan called you Hyunjin’s “shadow.” Seungmin raised a brow whenever he saw you two whispering on the balcony. But no one knew anything. Not really.

And you weren’t even sure what there was to know.

There were no kisses. No confessions. Just… moments. Looks. The brush of his hand against yours when no one was watching. The way he memorized your coffee order. The way you always sat beside him now, like your bodies couldn’t stand the space between.

It was unspoken.

And unbearable.

—————————————————————————

One evening, you were helping Lee Know prep dinner while Jisung and Hyunjin debated over which movie to watch. You were slicing green onions when you heard your name.

“She’s cool, okay?” Hyunjin was saying. “She’s funny. And thoughtful. She listens better than anyone I’ve ever met.”

You froze.

“Yeah,” Jisung replied. “But she’s my sister.”

“I know.”

“And you’re my best friend.”

A pause.

“I know that too,” Hyunjin said quietly.

You didn’t hear the rest. You excused yourself to the balcony and stayed there, heart twisting.

—————————————————————————

Later that night, Hyunjin found you outside, arms wrapped around your knees.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” he said.

“I know.”

He sat beside you, close enough that your thighs touched. “You’re important to me. And I don’t know how to stop it.”

You turned your face to him. “Do you want to stop it?”

Silence.

Then: “No.”

Your breath hitched.

“But Jisung—”

“I know,” he said. “He’s the reason I haven’t done anything more. The reason I only look when he’s not looking. The reason I’ve memorized the sound of your laugh instead of asking to hear it on a date.”

You didn’t say anything.

His hand inched closer on the bench. Not touching—just there.

“If this is wrong,” he whispered, “then why does it feel like the only thing that makes sense?”

You didn’t answer.

You just slid your hand into his.

And stayed.

—————————————————————————

You didn’t label it.

You didn’t kiss him.

But something shifted that night.

There was a new weight to your visits now. A thread pulled tighter between you and Hyunjin. And the risk of discovery made every look burn brighter.

You came over less, at first. Trying to cool things down.

But it only made seeing him worse.

The next time you walked into the dorm, Hyunjin was on the floor playing cards with Jeongin, but the second his eyes landed on you, it was over.

He stood.

Didn’t say a word.

Just hugged you.

Longer than he should’ve.

And you let him.

—————————————————————————

That night, while everyone was asleep, you found him in the hallway.

“Hyunjin.”

He turned. The dim light caught on his cheekbone.

“Can we stop pretending?” you asked.

His chest rose with a sharp breath. “I thought you were trying to.”

“I was.”

“Did it work?”

You stepped closer.

“No.”

His fingers brushed your wrist. “Then tell me what this is.”

You pressed your forehead to his. “It’s us. And I don’t want to hide anymore.”

He didn’t kiss you.

Not yet.

He just held you.

But it felt like everything.

—————————————————————————

A month later, Jisung found out.

Sort of.

You were standing too close in the kitchen, Hyunjin’s fingers lightly tapping your arm, your laughter too soft to be casual—and Jisung’s eyes narrowed.

Later that day, he cornered Hyunjin.

“Just tell me the truth,” he said. “Do you like her?”

Hyunjin didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

“Are you… dating?”

“No.”

“But you want to.”

“…Yes.”

Jisung ran a hand through his hair. “You’re lucky I trust you.”

“I know.”

“And if you hurt her—”

“I’d never.”

Another beat passed.

“She’s the better Han anyway,” Jisung muttered, shaking his head.

—————————————————————————

When Hyunjin told you, you nearly cried.

“Really?” you whispered.

“He gave me his blessing. Reluctantly. But it’s there.”

You grinned, heart full.

Then you finally kissed him.

On the same balcony where it all began.

And it was soft.

Warm.

Like the end of waiting.

—————————————————————————

Now, you’re back on the couch, legs tucked under Hyunjin’s, your sketchbook open on your lap. The rest of the group is yelling about something on TV, but you barely hear it.

Because Hyunjin is looking at you like you hung the stars.

And you know this time, he’ll never look away.

[artytaeh]

hey babe! how are you doing? hope you are doing fine :) I know you are probably full with requests or projects, so please don't feel pressure to answer this :( But I was wondering, how do you think Mattheo would be once he realizes he is in love/developing feelings? Do you think he would try to push them away at first?

. 𖥔 ࣪˖ hello bae, i'm doing fine, tysm for asking! i am a little overwhelmed, however !! i hate the idea of discarding/ignoring the asks i receive <3 everyone is so lovely here. it ended up being a full-on lengthy thought... thank you for interacting!

THE (CATASTROPHIC) ART OF FALLING IN LOVE ; mattheo t. riddle.

mattheo doesn't know how to react to being in love with someone. one thing is physical attraction — mattheo is acquainted with the feeling of desiring someone, perhaps lusting over some physical contact here and there.

but that's something that eventually disappears, like a wave that comes at full force and fades into a gentle touch at the shore, drawing back to the large ocean. mattheo can be so attracted to someone today, then perceive them as someone who mingles with the crowd like, less than a month later. the problem here is that when feelings develop, they linger — and stay, for longer than one can control.

and why would that be a problem? well.

mattheo isn't used to attachments.

for someone who's been passed from hand to hand, born from two people who wanted to conceive power rather than someone to love, mattheo taught himself to rationalize that everything is temporary. that death eater lady who took care of him during his toddler years? yeah, somewhere along the way he was sent to another couple, then to someone else, and that formed a sequence of bad, worse and less bad historic of mattheo riddle's caretakers.

things are temporary. dangerous feelings like attraction — mattheo knows that lust can easily be mistaken with love — are meant to be short lived. desire, conquer, fulfill, abandon. and that's that.

but developing feelings for someone — merlin forbid, falling in love — is a much longer process. like falling asleep, one falls in love, sometimes for reasons that not even merlin himself could properly explain. mattheo doesn't like the vulnerability; one thing is wanting to fuck someone, another totally different thing is wanting to hold hands just because, spend time together for the hell of it without expecting some sort of carnal reward in return.

mattheo riddle fucking hates it.

because in a selfish world where the strongest suffer the least, mattheo can't afford weaknesses. he's already alone, very much prejudiced because of his recent and ancient bloodline, not a wizard with many people who would defend him.

so to want to protect someone, when he should focus on protecting himself, is dangerous. it's foolishness. it's another weight to his already heavy shoulders.

and this, anon, so i can give you the right context to why mattheo's first instinct is to be fucking angry about this stupid person that stole his well guarded heart. because mattheo doesn't have an history of exemplary adults to look up to, he can be, hm... childish. even in his anger, the way he seeks solutions for his problems can either be violent (mhm, to assert dominance) or some stupid shit that apparently, makes sense to him.

said stupid shit is sending an anonymous letter that goes straight to the point.

get the fuck out of my school, you freak.

very mature. definitely meant to provoke the desired outcome.

for a good while, probably during the time span of mattheo slowly — veeeery slowly — coming in terms with his feelings, mattheo goes through the five stages of grief.

DENIAL, even though the handful of slytherin outcasts he can count as friends will use any. given. chance. to absolutely wreck mattheo's patience with jokes regarding how much he's in love — which he isn't, thank you fucking much. mattheo will deny to his very grave that he couldn't care less about her; at most, sure, she's kinda cute and even stunning on days that he's more distracted and less guarded, but that's it! lust, everyone! hormonal boys being boys, alright?! nothing romantic about that.

even though he can't help but follow her with his eyes, mentally distant from whatever conversation to see her walking by. the sight of her existing totally unaware of him, probably hurts so good that it sends mattheo into another wave of denial. even if he was in love, it wouldn't work — so there's no feelings involved.

are doomed children even able to get such good things? no, mattheo assumes not.

ANGER, because these little things start to accumulate a heavy burden to his fragile patience. like a mad dog waiting for the chance to bite, mattheo starts warning draco and pansy to shut up about the puppy-in-love jokes, and even gives a warning glare to theodore and blaise, hoping that there's some peace from their side, too. mattheo feels like exploding whenever he's given lame advices for corny situations.

it's anger, because sometimes, mattheo thinks that he can't feel anything else.

BARGAINING, whenever the evidence becomes too obvious to ignore. at this point, mattheo has to, begrudgingly, admit that his excuses are so stupid that it gives him secondhand embarrassment for himself. for fuck's sake, voldemort's son excusing his lovesick actions for must-have-been-the-wind kind of excuse.

the gradual path to acceptance, although through baby steps, forces mattheo to reinforce the idea that he's in control of this whole situation.

if-only's are followed by what-if's, like a push and pull sort of situation, where mattheo sways between a stage of anger and denial, while unknowingly crawling his way to depression and acceptance.

DEPRESSION, because how can he convince someone to put up with his shit for longer than what, one night stand? despite his terrible reputation, there are girls more than willing to make out in a corner of some dorm party, or even more than that for the hell of it. but more than that? nah, no one is crazy enough to do that — remember? lust and love can be mistaken, but in mattheo riddle's case, it's easy for people to distinguish it with him. so yeah, just his luck.

as much as his friends might try to help him, mattheo is hardly convinced. it seems some stupid karmic trial sent his way, because he is, supposedly, not struggling enough. sure, throw some heartbreak and highschool failed romance on his way.

the whole 'depression' stage is filled with overthinking. either silly daydreaming of what will never happen, to following the sight of her everywhere she happens to exist where he does, too. then, it happens to be unintentionally noticing very little things about the person he likes — and convince himself that it only serves as more incompatibility, because you'd have to be crazy to be with someone whose surname happens to be riddle.

yeah, some things just aren't meant for him, are they?

ACCEPTANCE, however, is the stage that finally offers some peace of mind to him. mattheo accepts that bargaining and getting angry at his feelings won't do shit — by now, he's used to the whole butterfly-stomach-bs that some fourth-years were chanting about in the great hall, and the natural anxiety he feels whenever she's near. the tingling in his fingers, because he wants to touch, to protect, to be equally loved too, but ends up being another fistful on his pockets' fabric in the end.

unfortunately, this acceptance might only be fully achieved upon some major event. mattheo has to act subconsciously to accept that there's no way around it anymore — he's in love, he wants this person in the least selfish way possible, and he's fucked because of this.

if you want my opinion, the easiest trigger to this stage would be anything that sparks mattheo's protectiveness. the moment that he feels good about having helped her, it's over. mattheo isn't his own priority anymore — she is.

after trying to push her away, even if that means to distance himself from every little thing that reminds mattheo of her and, consequentially, his weak feelings for this girl, mattheo will surrender to it. this time, he carefully reapproaches her — tiptoeing his way back, ambitioning for a possible connection, or the slightest friendship that allows him the peace of being in her presence.

it could take a good amount of time for mattheo to convince himself that he can, and should, take a chance. it's not the same as flirting with someone into getting something carnal out of it — it's the attempt to open a potential door for a relationship, which he really, really wants to, even though mattheo has no good examples of it. at fucking all.

but for her?

he'll try.

and merlin help him if he won't even read some stupid book to properly understand it. give him a chance — and he'll be a good boyfriend.

as good of a boyfriend as bellatrix lestrange and the dark lord's lovechild can be.

[gyunotes]

Mutual Distraction - Mark Lee x F!Reader

"Try not to fall in love with me mid-rebuttal,” I murmured, flipping open the folder without even looking at him. He smirked. “Try not to humiliate yourself. I’d rather not have to carry both our arguments on stage.” I hate him. I really, really do. But I also kind of want to see what happens when we actually team up—because if our insults are this sharp, God help the judges."

cw : smut, enemies to lovers, slow burn?? or just two overachievers stress-fucking their way to an A+

There are exactly three things I hate more than public speaking: group projects, lukewarm coffee, and Mark fucking Lee.

So naturally, life decided to hand me all three before 10 a.m.

I was halfway through mentally writing an email titled “Why this debate tournament is my villain origin story” when my name got called — loudly and way too enthusiastically. 

“y/n will step in as Mark’s partner due to medical withdrawal from his teammate.”

Cue: mild cardiac arrest, a brain reboot, and the overwhelming urge to vanish into the air. 

I blinked. Then blinked again. Apparently, glaring at the universe doesn’t reverse stupidity. Tragic, really. 

Across the room, Mark looked up from his book like fate had just slapped him across the face with a hardcover — which, honestly, felt accurate. 

His expression screamed what the fuck?. Mine probably said the same.

I stood up anyway. Pair me with a brick wall and I’d still walk away with the win. Mark just happens to be a brick wall who thinks he’s a genius. Cute. He’ll learn. 

Still, as I walked across the stage toward him, I couldn’t ignore the simmering irritation bubbling under my skin — or the way his blazer fit a little too well. Ugh. Rude.

“Don’t look so thrilled, Mark,” I said with a too-sweet smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Relax — I only bite if someone asks nicely.”

He handed me the case file like it was laced with anthrax.

“You have five minutes to prepare,” the moderator announced.

Mark didn’t say a word — just looked at me like I’d committed a crime against humanity. I stared back, resisting the very real urge to throw my pen at his annoyingly symmetrical face.

“Try not to fall in love with me mid-rebuttal,” I murmured, flipping open the folder without looking at him.

He smirked. Barely. “Try not to humiliate yourself. I’d rather not have to carry both our arguments on stage.”

I hate him.

I really, really do but I also kind of want to see what happens when we actually team up.

Because if our insults were this sharp…

God help the judges.

A sharp tap on the mic snapped the room to attention.

“Okay, let’s begin,” said one of the judges, adjusting her glasses and peering over the rim with a challenge in her gaze. 

“If social media is such a threat, why do billions still use it every day?”

She barely finished the question before I fired back. 

“Because addiction doesn’t look like destruction—not at first.” 

She let the words settle before continuing, her gaze sweeping the panel.

“It looks like dopamine. Like connection. Like validation in the form of likes and comments. But under the surface? It’s rewiring how we see ourselves and worse, how we value each other.” 

I leaned in slightly. “We don't fear the tool. We fear what it's turning us into.” 

I turned to Mark.

“You say people choose to be online.”

A pause. He lets the silence draw just long enough.

“But addiction always looks like a choice… right up until it doesn’t.”

He took one step forward.

“Social media doesn’t connect us.”

Another pause, this one surgical.

“It controls us.”

A pause—then the soft scratching of pens, the subtle twitch of impressed smiles.

Mark gave a faint shrug, turning slightly toward me with the hint of a smirk.

I didn’t look at him.

But my grin said everything.

Checkmate.

We won the debate. obvi.

And of course, Mark couldn’t let it settle for more than two seconds before opening his mouth.

“I’m just saying,” he drawled, tugging at the edge of his blazer, “we only won because I delivered the knockout line. The rest was just—set dressing.”

I scoffed, not even looking at him as I slipped my folder back into my bag.

“You mean the line you stole from a book” I shot back sweetly. “Congratulations, you plagiarized your way into glory.”

He laughed, low and warm. “You’ve got to admit, it sounded better coming from me.”

I looked up at him, my eyes flashing. “So would silence.”

Mark tilted his head slightly, smirk curling at the edges. “Admit it. You love when I win.”

“I love that we won,” I corrected, then added, under my breath, “and now I have to tolerate the ego inflation that follows.”

His voice dipped, just enough to turn the air between them warmer than it had any right to be. “So you do love something about me.”

I opened my mouth—whether to fire back or let something slip, even I wasn’t sure—but that’s when Professor Kim appeared beside them, clapping once, far too loud.

“Incredible, both of you! That was one of the sharpest debate I’ve heard in years.”

They both straightened instantly, too quickly, like school kids caught passing notes.

Mark’s smirk vanished in favor of a polite nod.

My smile was stiff.

“Thank you, Professor,” we said in near-unison.

The professor, thankfully oblivious, beamed at us and moved on to the next team.

Mark exhaled.

I cleared my throat.

And just like that, the moment was gone—left hovering awkwardly between them like an ellipsis neither of them knew how to finish.

“So you do love something about me.”

The words kept echoing in my head, like a song I couldn’t stop replaying. Ever since the debate two days ago—his cocky smirk, that glint in his eye, the way he leaned just a little too close when he said it—I hadn’t been able to shake it.

Get the fuck out of my head, Mark.

I scowled at the notebook in front of me, not absorbing a single word of the notes I was supposed to be taking. My pen hovered uselessly above the page, tapping a silent rhythm that matched the anxious flutter in my chest.

Why the hell was he in my head?

The shrill sound of the bell snapped me back to reality, like cold water thrown over my thoughts.

“Okay, class, see you Monday,” the professor called. Chairs scraped and conversations buzzed as everyone packed up.

I stood to leave, slinging my bag over my shoulder, when—

“Miss Y/N, could you stay back a while? I have something to ask you.”

My heart stuttered.

I turned slowly, trying to play it cool even though my pulse was sprinting. Behind me, Mark hadn’t moved either, his lazy grin already in place like he was expecting this.

Of course he stayed back too.

“Uh, sure,” I said, trying not to sound suspiciously breathless.

The classroom emptied around us, the chatter fading until it was just the three of us.

As I stepped toward the front, I could feel him beside me—his presence always too warm, too close.

"Relax," he whispered under his breath, just low enough for only me to hear. "I'm not gonna bite."

"Too bad," I shot back before I could stop myself. My eyes widened a little too late. Did I really just say that?

His smirk deepened, and now I really wanted the floor to swallow me whole.

“Right,” the professor said, oblivious. “I just wanted to ask if you two would be open to working together for the upcoming presentation. You both have strong points of view in the last debate. I think it could make for an interesting dynamic.”

I could practically feel Mark turning to look at me.

“That’s… up to her,” he said. And damn him, his voice was all casual and charming, like he hadn’t just been living rent-free in my head for forty-eight hours.

The professor looked at me expectantly.

I opened my mouth and forced a polite smile. “Sure. That’s fine.”

“Perfect,” he said. “You can coordinate the details together. I’ll expect a rough outline by Friday.”

With that, he gathered his things and left us there—in the silence, in whatever this thing was that buzzed between us like static.

Mark didn’t move. Just tilted his head, watching me with far too much amusement.

“What?” I asked, trying for exasperation, but it came out… flustered.

“That didn’t sound like a no,” he said softly.

“To what?”

His eyes twinkled. “To loving something about me.”

I groaned and turned to walk away. “God, you’re insufferable.”

But he followed, matching my pace with infuriating ease. “You didn’t say no, though.”

“Shut up, Mark.”

“See? You do love something about me.”

And I hated how much I almost smiled.

I was mid-scroll through my phone and minding my own business when my phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Tomorrow. My place. 4PM. Outline work + snacks provided. Dress code: chill but cute.

I stared at the screen, blinking like the words might magically rearrange into something normal.

Then another text came in.

Unknown Number: Don’t act surprised. It’s Mark, obviously.

I nearly dropped my phone. Mark??

I hadn’t given him my number.

At least, I didn’t think I had. Had I blacked out during class? 

Then clarity. 

The professor.

Of course. “Pair up for the presentation,” he’d said. 

Apparently, giving Mark Lee access to my number was part of the deal now.

I fired off a reply with shaky thumbs:

You: How did you get my number??

Mark: The professor.

You: I’m reporting this as an invasion of privacy.

Mark: You can do that. After we finish our presentation on 20th century subtext and the unbearable tension between co-presenters. See you at 4, Sunshine.

Sunshine???

I stared at the ceiling and seriously considered deleting my entire identity.

This was dumb. I shouldn’t be nervous.

It was just Mark. Annoying, arrogant Mark who delighted in getting under my skin.

But my palm was sweaty against the strap of my laptop bag, and I’d changed outfits twice before settling on something that said “I don’t care” when it very much meant “God, I hope I don’t look like a disaster.”

I hesitated, then knocked.

The door swung open before my fist could land again.

Mark was standing there, wearing a black hoodie and an easy smile that immediately made me suspicious.

“You’re early,” he said, leaning against the door frame.

“You said four.”

“Yeah, but I thought you’d show up fashionably late.”

I pushed past him. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He shut the door behind me. “You never do.”

My brain short-circuited.

“Snacks are in the kitchen,” he said, like he hadn’t just casually flirted me into a state of semi-catatonia. “And yes, I remembered you hate raisins.”

I blinked. “You… what?”

“Your oatmeal cookie rant in class?” He looked at me over his shoulder. “Very passionate. I felt personally attacked.”

I blinked again. “Okay, wow. You actually listen.”

Mark grinned. “Shocking, I know.”

I followed him to the living room, trying very hard not to look like I was analyzing every surface of his house for evidence of his entire personality.

His couch was comfy. His bookshelf was full. And his kitchen smelled faintly of cinnamon, which I refused to find charming.

“Alright,” I said, settling on the chair by his desk and opening my laptop. “Let’s focus. No distractions. No attitude. No stupid smirks.”

Mark dropped into the seat beside me—beside, not across—and leaned back, looking way too comfortable.

“I make no promises,” he said, reaching for a cookie. “But I’m flattered you called my smirk stupid. That’s how I know you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.”

“You’re a little flustered.”

“I will throw this cookie at your face.”

He held out a hand. “Go ahead. I love dramatic foreplay.”

I choked on air.

“Presentation,” I gasped, pointing at the screen like it could save me from whatever this was. “We’re outlining. Now.”

Mark grinned. “You’re adorable when you panic.”

“I’m going to murder you with a notebook.”

He laughed, leaning closer until our shoulders almost touched. “And yet… here you are. At my house. With cookies. And a suspicious amount of eye contact.”

I glared at him. “Let’s just get this outline done before I remember I have pepper spray in my bag.”

Mark raised his brows, pretending to scribble a note in his journal. “Add that to our conflict section. Threats, unresolved tension, will-they-won’t-they energy. We’re off to a strong start.” 

This is going to be a long day.

“We are exactly three bullet points into this outline,” I said, narrowing my eyes at the document on my laptop. “And somehow we’ve spent fifteen minutes arguing about font size.”

“Because it matters,” Mark replied, leaning back in the chair like he was relaxing at a resort instead of sabotaging my productivity. “Presentation is 50% aesthetics. You wouldn’t wear ugly shoes to a first date, would you?”

“This isn’t a date.”

He looked at me. Slowly. His eyes dragging from my face down to where my knees were curled under me on the chair. Then back up.

“No,” he said, voice a little quieter. “It’s not.”

My throat went dry.

There was something about the way he said it. Like he was daring me to contradict him. Like he wanted me to say something but all I could do was blink at him like my brain had taken the rest of the day off.

Silence settled between us. The kind that hummed. Soft and slow and almost... expectant.

I reached for a cookie to have something to do with my hands. “We’re never going to finish this outline.”

“Maybe,” he said, “we’re not supposed to finish it today.”

I turned to look at him.

He was closer now. His knee brushing mine. His eyes not moving.

“When are we supposed to finish then?” I asked. My voice came out softer than I meant it to.

Mark tilted his head. “Not sure. But I think we’re in the middle of something.”

“That’s vague.”

“That’s on purpose.”

Another beat of silence. The air between us was thick with it—whatever this was. Heat. Curiosity. The kind of pause where you both know what’s coming next and are terrified of how real it’s about to get.

I should’ve said something sarcastic. Broken the tension. Pushed him away like I always did.

But I didn’t.

Because he was already leaning in.

And I didn’t stop him.

Not when his gaze flicked from my eyes to my lips.

Not when he murmured, “Tell me to stop.”

I didn’t.

And then—

His mouth met mine.

Soft at first. Testing. Like he was waiting for me to pull away.

I didn’t.

I leaned in.

His hand slid up, fingers threading gently through my hair, the kiss deepening just enough to steal my breath—but not too much to feel rushed. It was warm. Messy in the best way. All tension and heat and finally.

When we broke apart, my heart was thudding so hard I was positive he could hear it.

I blinked at him.

He was smiling. Not that smug smirk. Something softer. Still teasing—but different now.

“So,” he said. “Still threatening me with that notebook?”

“Don’t tempt me,” I whispered, breathless.

“Too late.”

I swallowed hard, still trying to catch up to my own brain. “This doesn’t count as a study break, by the way.”

Mark grinned. “Then we should do it again. Just to make sure.”

Mark didn’t wait this time.

He kissed me like he was going to ruin me—hands gripping my thighs and lifting me in one swift, breath-stealing motion.

I gasped as he spun me toward the desk. My papers went fluttering to the floor in a storm of pages and forgotten priorities.

“Oops,” he murmured, setting me down on the edge of the desk like I belonged there. “Guess I’m not very good at group projects.”

My breath hitched, legs parting instinctively as he stepped between them. “You’re a dick.”

Mark smirked, his hands sliding under my thighs, fingers warm against bare skin. “And yet, here you are. Moaning for the guy you claim to hate.”

“I didn’t moan.”

“You will.”

His mouth was back on mine—deeper now like neither of us had time to pretend anymore. His hands were everywhere. Tracing up my back, down my hips, slipping under my shirt with ease. I could feel his grin against my lips when I gasped as he touched my boobs.

“God,” I whispered, arching into him, “you’re—so annoying.”

He kissed down my neck, slow and deliberate. “But you’re wet for me anyway.”

I hated how easily those words undid me.

“Tell me,” he said, voice dark and low, breath ghosting across my collarbone, “how long you’ve wanted this.”

I hesitated just a second too long and he pulled back slightly, just enough to meet my eyes.

Mark’s gaze was hungry. But not just with lust—he needed the truth.

So I gave it to him.

“Since the first time you smiled at me,” I breathed. “Which is annoying. Because I hate your smile.”

He growled softly. “You love my smile.”

And then he was kissing me again, yanking my shirt over my head, dragging his hoodie off with one hand. We were heat and skin and tangled limbs and barely-restrained want.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he murmured, trailing kisses down my stomach, fingers hooking into my waistband. “On my desk. All soft and needy.”

“I am not—”

He slipped two fingers between my thighs and pressed.

I whimpered.

Mark looked up at me, all teeth and heat. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

My head fell back, hips lifting toward his touch.

“Say you want it,” he whispered, voice thick with heat, fingers still teasing. “I need to hear it, baby.”

“Mark—” My voice cracked. “Please.”

“Please what?”

I met his eyes, breathless, desperate. “Please fuck me.”

He didn’t make me wait.

He pulled off the rest of our clothes in a tangle of laughter and curses between kisses. His touch was reverent and rough in equal parts slow when he wanted me to feel everything, fast when he couldn’t hold back.

When he finally slid inside me, we both gasped ourforeheads pressed together, mouths parted, like we couldn’t believe this was finally happening.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” he groaned, rocking into me, his grip bruising on my hips. “So tight. So fucking mine right now.”

I clawed at his back, biting down on a moan as he pushed deeper, slower, dragging every sound he wanted from me.

“You like it messy, huh?” he murmured, voice hot against my ear. “Books on the floor, your legs wrapped around me, taking every inch like a good girl.”

I gasped, digging my nails into his skin. “You’re—ngh—such an asshole.”

He chuckled, breath ragged. “And you’re gonna come all over my dick anyway.”

God help me, I was.

 His hands, his mouth, his voice in my ear saying everything I didn’t know I needed to hear.

“Let go,” he said, thrusting deeper, “Come for me. Make a fucking mess of this desk, sweetheart.”

And I did.

Hard.

Everything shattered..breath, thought and my body curling into his as he held me through it, kissing my shoulder, my jaw, murmuring, “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

He came right after, groaning into my skin, pulling me down with him into a heap of tangled limbs and breathless laughter.

We stayed like that for a long minute—skin slick, hearts racing, the outline forgotten, pages scattered like snow around us.

He kissed the top of my shoulder and whispered, “We should really finish that presentation.”

I huffed. “You ruined my books. This is war.”

He laughed, pulling me closer. “Then let’s call it makeup sex later.

fin

© 2025 gyunotes

[reverie-starlight]

megumi loves…

a collection of things megumi loves about you.

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. so sweet it’ll make your teeth rot tbh. he won the poll so here’s the fic as promised!! literally wrote this on the bus and train rides this morning after having this planned for weeks. I literally love him sm he is everything to me <3

megumi loves when you play with his hair. the feel of your nails running along his scalp, playing with the nape of his neck- it’s calming. you do it most often when you’re both in his bed, cuddling after a mission or a long day of training. he’ll flop down on top of you, plant his head on your chest and sigh. he waits for you to do something, drawing the sweetest sound he’s ever heard from your lips (a laugh) as he glares up at you when you don’t move your hands. you’ll mumble out a soft “aw I’m sorry, baby,” before giving him exactly what he wants. he’ll press tender kisses to any patch of skin he can reach in thanks. you’d never make him ask twice because you know he truly appreciates this time spent with you and you’d never want him to shy away from you. you’re each other’s safe space after all, who would you be to deny him?

sometimes you’ll do it in public, too, but far less often. these are the times that you just can’t hold back- he’s so cute, why would you? he grumbles about it a bit, especially if you’re around people you know (he’s shy, after all), but can he really complain when you look at him so softly as you play with his dark locks? he’ll endure the teasing and reassure you that he’s fine with it if you start to pull away.

megumi loves running his fingers along your facial features. over the bridge of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, tracing your lips… he just loves your facial structure. it sounds like an odd compliment to give someone, especially if it’s the first compliment you give someone (and in his case, it was the first compliment he managed to stutter out after you offhandedly called him pretty when you were in the transition stage from friends to lovers), but he’s thankful that you seem to find it sweet.

he loves your face when you’re awake, so full of life and excitement that he can’t help but match when you’re both alone in the comfort of each other. the pretty smiles you’ll give him make his heart pump just a bit faster, the lovesick in your eyes after he kisses you… he wouldn’t trade it for the world. he’d do anything to keep you happy.

he loves your face when you’re asleep, too. especially after you’ve had a rough day. you look so serene and peaceful. even if you do drool or think you’re less than flattering, he always thinks you’re the most stunning thing ever. he loves when you scrunch your nose in your sleep, and he always places a hand on your cheek to smooth it out. he adores the look on your face as you slowly wake up and blink at him before cuddling into him further and sighing as you fall back asleep.

megumi loves when you get a bit clingy. everyone is a bit surprised when they see how all over each other the two of you can be (at least, as much as he is willing to show in public- which isn’t much, but for everyone else it’s huge) he loves it when you can’t help but wrap your arms around him because you missed him (you probably saw him less than an hour ago).

he adores the way you refuse to let him get out of bed on weekends, insisting that you need your fix of “never-ending affection” from him before can start his day. and he loves giving it to you. he’ll start with peppering quick kisses all over your face, smiling against your skin when you giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, not at all tempted to squirm away, but rather to pull him in for more.

he’ll be convinced to lay with you for a bit longer, of course, and do it without complaining. because at the end of the day, he loves to feel needed by you. he likes having you close to him more than he hates getting teased by his friends and gojo for being all soft.

believe it or not, he enjoys it when you initiate play fights with him. neither of you go all out- you do that enough on missions- so it’s just the two of you rolling around in bed, laughing and pinning the other down. he’ll pick you up and throw you back down, he’ll summon his demon dog to jump all over you so he can have the upper hand, just to keep you smiling. he knows physical affection is important to you, so why would he deny you of that? he never wants to make you feel like you’re not getting what you need from him.

megumi loves when you tease him. this surprises even him to this day, because he doesn’t like the feeling of getting worked up at all. but his working theory is that he enjoys the intimacy of it. you don’t tease him about every little thing, you know he doesn’t like that, but you do tease him about things hyper-specific to your relationship. for example: that one time he messed up the pronunciation of that word in an argument? you never let him live it down, but you’ll also never disclose the inside joke to anyone else. you might be a nuisance on purpose, but you’re also his number one defender when it comes to anyone else teasing him.

you also like to fluster him. poking him all over when you want attention, blowing air into his face when he leans in to kiss you… it’s all so fun for you. you’ll get close enough to his face to make him blush, you’ll tease that spot on the back of his neck that he’s never told anyone but you about, and he hates how easily you get to him, but he’ll tolerate it because he knows you’re just as easy to fluster as he is.

he loves to tease you back. as soon as you’re back in your room after a full day of not letting up on him, he’s got his arms wrapped around you, and he’s walking you backwards until your laying on the bed, staring up at him wearily… and then you’re screaming because his skilled hands are all over your sides, your ribs and your hips. and once you’re spent, he’ll lean in close to your ear and whisper his own teasing remarks (normally compliments he knows you’d have trouble accepting otherwise) to get you whining and mumbling out laughter-filled apologies he won’t be accepting any time soon.

yeah, megumi just loves you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed!!! it’s a different format from my other fics so lmk if you’d want this with any other characters!!

[dixons-sunshine]

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader—Daryl With A Kid Headcannons

Word count: 733.

A/n: Requests are temporarily closed! I'll open them up again soon, though. Anyways, I hope you like this! (By the way, the child's age isn't mentioned, but it's set around the toddler stage!)

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

★ Daryl was so amazed that he had a child of his own.

★ When you had first told him you were pregnant all those years ago, his world had turned upside down. However, the first time he held his baby, he knew it was in a good way.

★ As his child grew up, he did everything with them that his own father never did with him, subconsciously healing his inner child by doing so.

★ When I say everything, I mean everything. From teaching them how to ride a bicycle, to teaching them how to swim, to building pillow forts, to colouring or drawing with them. Anything his child felt like doing that day, he would make a reality.

★ Except if he knew it was dangerous for his child. Then it was an automatic no.

★ Daryl was surprisingly good at handling his child's tantrums. His child shared his own temper, so he knew exactly how to curb their tantrums.

★ He loved having his kid sleep in bed with the two of you. With you on one side and him on the other, the both of you keeping your child safe between the two of you.

★ One of his favourite things in the whole world is when the two of you are cuddled up on the couch with your child resting on either of your chests, some old Disney movie playing on the television.

★ He'd be filled with so much love when he looks from the television and see that the both of you fell asleep while resting against/on him. It made him feel valued, like the two of you trusted him enough to keep you safe while you slept.

★ Talks of having another child come up from time to time. Daryl knows how important having a sibling can be and wants that for his kid, but at the same time, he's terrified of having more children. He was terrified of having just one, but he doesn't regret it.

★ So if you want another kid, he'd never deny you that.

★ Family days are his favourite!

★ Those days where you whip out a deck of Uno cards or some board game you found are some of the absolute best times of his life.

★ Even if your toddler doesn't understand the game and ends up following their own rules. In his opinion, that makes the game even more fun.

★ He knows he doesn't have the best singing voice and he doesn't know any lullabies, but he tries his best.

★ He manages to sing some of his favourite songs from the old world in a tone that closely resembles a lullaby, and that often does the trick.

★ Daryl feels so bad when he raises his voice.

★ After seeing his child cry and run to their room, he instantly feels like the lowest piece of shit on earth. He almost always gets transfered back to those times with his father, and he wonders if he's starting to turn into that bastard.

★ It takes some gentle reassurance from you that he wasn't his dad for him to go up to his child's room and apologize.

★ Cue his surprise and great relief when they run straight into his arms and instantly forgive him.

★ Everything is almost always sorted out by gently addressing the situation, and Daryl always leaves feeling happy, yet frustrated.

★ Happy because his child doesn't hate him and they managed to resolve everything, but frustrated because he realized how easy it was to just sit and talk it out. Not once did he ever feel the urge to hit his kid, so his hatred for his father grew more each time.

★ Whenever he's walking outside with his kid, he loves holding their hand to keep them close.

★ Of course, if the kid didn't like that, he wouldn't push that boundary, but if they didn't mind, Daryl would love to hold their tiny hand in his. It's something his mom used to do with him when he was a toddler and it made him feel safe, so he hoped that his kid felt the same way with him.

★ Daryl loves his child and he always tries his best. That much everyone could see.

[finelinevogue]

an absolute nuisance

summary - harry is a nuisance in the morning

pairing - boyfriend!harry x reader

word count - -1k

♾️🩶♾️🩶♾️🩶♾️🩶♾️🩶♾️🩶♾️🩶♾️🩶♾️

“What’s this for?” Harry sat up in bed against the headboard.

The duvet was pushed down onto his lap so his bare torso was showing. There was a little roll or two where his stomach was tucked over from where he was sitting.

“Happy first day of spring!” You smiled cheerily.

You felt happy this morning.

The sun was shining into your bedroom, the sky was cerulean blue and the birds were chirping away.

You handed Harry his mug of peppermint tea, which he religiously had every morning, whilst you enjoyed the classic english breakfast tea. Milk, no sugar.

“Thank you, m’love.” Harry smiled, giving you a moment to kiss him softly before you situated yourself beside him crossed legged.

“Sleep okay?”

You took a sip of your drink even though you knew it would be too hot.

Harry kept his hands around his mug as if it was the middle of winter, more out of habit than necessity.

“Mm, yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going ‘round to Noel’s this afternoon to drop off some tech gear.” Harry told you.

“Okay.” You nodded, “I’ve got work at 2.”

“When do you get off?”

“Should be about 6, but you know what they’re like.” You rolled your eyes.

“If Katherine keeps you for extra hours again, love.. I’m going down there myself to kidnap you.”

You chuckled, “Kidnap me?”

“Yeah. I’ll stage the whole thing. I’m an actor now, you know?” He winked at you, carefully taking a sip of his drink.

“Okay, Mr Hollywood.”

You stayed chatting about everything and nothing whilst you enjoyed your morning teas, before you decided to start getting ready for the day.

“Where you going?” Harry asked, his hand softly stroking small circles into the exposed skin of your thigh.

“Need to get ready.”

You reached over to draw the loose hairs away from his eyes, allowing your hand to brush over his cheek as it moved due his face.

Harry warmed at the feeling, his cheeks glowing in colour as your skin moved across his.

“Don’t go.” He pouted.

You moved from your cross legged position to sitting on your legs in a kneeling position. You leant closer to Harry and cupped both of his cheeks with your hands.

“I’m only going to get ready.” You kissed him. He kissed you.

“Wanna stay in this moment with you forever.” You kissed again.

“And make me late for a shift with Katherine? I don’t think so. If I had a dick, she’d cut it off.”

Your words sent a laugh through Harry, him complaining how sometimes you really did know how to ruin a moment. You took it as a compliment, because sometimes it would a good tactic to have.

“She’ll cut off my tits instead.”

“No!” Harry pretended to be horrified, which sent you into a fit of laughter. You sank you face down into the crook of his neck to hide yourself.

He smelt so good. And how? It was first thing in the morning and he smelt so homely and perfect.

Harry took the moment to his advantage, pushing himself over you and trapping you underneath him. The manoeuvre was too quick for you to even understand the logistics of it.

“Harry!” You sighed with a giggle.

“You have four hours before you need to leave.” He whined. “Stay with meeee.” He buried his face against your neck and left a trail of kisses there, getting close to the spot behind your ear that made you melt.

“But I need to do stuff.”

“Yeah? Like what? Maybe love on your boyfriend?”

“Gonna be just my friend in a moment if you don’t let me go.” You huffed.

Harry’s head perked up at that. “There’s nothing friendly about what you did to me last night.”

“You make it sound like you were helpless…” You giggled.

“I was!”

“Oh give over.”

“You had me completely surrendered.”

“You’re such a nuisance.” You groaned, trying to lift up but he was too heavy for you.

“And yet you love me. Sounds like you’ve got the issues, babe.” He teased you.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.” He kissed you. Reluctantly, you kissed him too - which only ended up with you staying in bed for another four hours…

[popamolly]

‘ INTERNAL REDEMPTION ’ LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR

summary. In the fiery depths, she captures the attention of Lucifer, who senses a unique purity in her soul. With his help, (Y/N) finds herself on the path to redemption and self-discovery with dangerous trouble along the way.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

warnings. lucifer morningstar x stripper!fem!reader, she/her pronouns, valentino exists, eventual smut, mention of death, biblical references, sex work, sexual themes, trauma, abuse, murder

author’s note. inspired by @punching-pentagrams and their amazing ongoing story “Love In as Hopeless Place”, it encouraged me to write my own fic about Lucifer. go check out their story, it is so good and deserves more love!

In the dimly lit, pulsating world of Club Elysium, where the air was thick with anticipation and desire, a mysterious aura surrounded a captivating figure on the stage. Under the flickering neon lights, you moved with a mesmerizing grace that defied the earthly realm. Dressed in glistening attire that caught the reflections of the vibrant hues around her, you became an ethereal presence, drawing the attention of every gaze in the room.

Your movements were a dance of contradictions – an alluring blend of sensuality and innocence. You twirled and swayed to the rhythm of the music, casting a spell upon the enchanted audience.

Unbeknownst to the patrons of Club Elysium, you were more than just an exotic dancer seeking to enthrall with her physical prowess. Your celestial grace, forgotten in the afterlife coil she now inhabited, manifested in the subtle elegance of her performance. As you moved, you felt a distant echo of a certain purpose, an inexplicable connection to something beyond the neon-lit stage.

In the hazy ambiance, Valentino, the enigmatic owner of Club Elysium, watched from the shadows, his eyes reflecting one of red burning lust, but it was more than just lust for you— no, it was something more— it was a thirst for power that had him grinning from ear to ear. Valentino knew that in this corner of Hell he owned everything, even you.

As the music reached its crescendo, your dance reached its zenith. The room held its breath, suspended in a moment where hell and celestial intertwined. You were always the ballerina in the jelwery box, the beautiful antique that Valentino had in his grasp to show off and praise. Though he may own you outside the building you made sure to show him through your dancing, that you were the one that owned the stage. He hated when you went off script or changed the choreography but you made sure to do it on purpose and on nights you knew he was watching you.

That was your little dose of rebellion, a little taste of freedom you could only wish to have. You were content with your situation though, it could’ve been worse. At least with Valentino you were paid, clothed, and feed with an overall decent place to live. Being one of his toys had its perks— you couldn’t complain. Especially when there were those who had it so much worse than you.

“You jus’ love angerin’ him, don’t you doll?” Your coworker, Angel Dust, asked as you entered the dressing room that you and the other dancers shared. The smell of makeup and cheap perfume filled your senses, calming you with the sense of familiarity, “Cause last I checked, that wasn’t what we rehearsed.”

“Well,” You chuckled as you sat on the couch, its fabric ripped and white stuffing nearly popping out the sides, “I just thought that my choreo was better, and by the sound of that crowd and the money on stage, it was.”

“Heh,” Angel couldn’t help but envy your confidence when it came to Valentino, who owned you both in more ways than one and yet you always found a way to yank on the chains without consequence. A part of Angel loathed you for it.

You could sense the mood shift in Angel, not that you cared but you weren’t exactly heartless either. With a sigh, you get up from the couch, ignoring your aching feet as you join Angel’s side, looking into the vanity mirror so you could touch up your makeup, “Trust me, if my act wasn’t purity and innocence it would be a different story. Lucky for me, bruises and marks on my body wouldn’t sell too well.”

“Yeah, count it on luck shortcake.” With that Angel left, pushing another girl out the way angrily while snatching the drink out her hand. You could only sigh, not intending on upsetting him more but as always, your intentions don’t matter when your words spoke otherwise. It had been so long since you had a decent human connection, you were just a bit rusty.

“My sweets,” The sudden sound of Valentino’s voice had the room go silent, the air becoming so thick you were sure you’d might suffocate in it, “Can I have the room please?”

With hushed scared whispers and nervous glances, you and the other girls make your way to the door. You had hoped you could sneak past him under the cover of the other women who all but rushed passed Valentino but his slender hand caught your forearm quick, gripping it with such force that you were slightly shocked by the pain he caused— it wasn’t like him to be rough with you, “Not you, darling. We have to have a chat, don’t we mio caro?”

You turn to look at him with a frown, “About what? My performance?”

“Oh I would love to talk about that little stunt you pulled but I need you for something a bit more important,” Valentino yanks you further into the room, locking the door behind him with his other hand before slinging you against the vanity, bottles of perfume falling over and onto the ground as the desk shakes violently. Your employer towers over you with ease making you shudder beneath his fiery gaze, “I need something done and I need it done right, I trust that you can accomplish this task, yes?”

What shit was he getting you into now? You were done with porn, you had paid a hefty price to alter your contract with him and you weren’t going to slip back into the void now, not when you were so far ahead, “I won’t be one of your pornstars, Val. We had a deal.”

Valentino laughs, his pointy fingernail dragging along your cheek while he licks his lips, “This isn’t about that principessa, this is a more delicate matter. Think you’re up for it?”

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?” You yank your head away from his hands, lowering your gaze into a slight glare.

“This is why I always liked you, dove. You learn quick.”

“If you were going to tell me to send in a whore Val, I wouldv’e just asked you to send Angel Dust!” Vox glitched with anger, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as he turned around in his chair, his claw like hands gripping onto the table with such force that it left a mark, “What makes this slut is any different from him?!”

It was hard to bite back your tongue but you did, unwillingly submitting to your role as you stood before the V’s with your eyes to the ground, not daring to even look as confident at you usually were. Not because you were scared of them, no, you were scared of embarrassing Valentino. Your boss might have forgiven you for your countless stunts but when it came to matters of business with the V’s, you knew your place.

“Angel dust thinks he is on this path to redemption, let him stay in his delusion but until I can break him fully he will never be loyal to me. Not as loyal as (Y/N) here…” Valentino wraps his hand around your neck, forcing your head up to look at Vox— who for a split second was taken back by your beauty, “I have broken (Y/N) time and time again, she would do anything for me, isn’t that right (Y/N)?”

You closed your eyes, “Yes, Valentino.”

“Good.” Valentino pushes you toward Vox, making you stumble into him, forcing him to catch you in his arms, “Quite the vixen, she would surely catch the eyes of any overlord.”

“Even the King of Hell himself?” Vox tips your chin up with his index finger, looking into your eyes with a devilishly grin that makes you shiver.

“Asmodeus throws the biggest parties in the Pride Ring that is filled with all kinds of debauchery, especially for his birthday.” Valentino explains, leaning back in his chair as he crosses his right leg over the other, exhaling out a long drag of pink smoke, “Every one of importance will be there since it isn’t just a party but a show of status.”

“And..what? Your pretty toy is just supposed to waltz in there and get the attention of any overlord that wants to fuck her?” Velvette finally tears her gaze away from her phone, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Well it is an important party of one of Lucifer’s friends—”

“Which means he is bound to be there.” Vox grins, “Get close to the king and we get closer to controlling Hell.”

“And what makes you so sure he’ll entertain such..” Velvette looks at you with a roll of her eyes, “From what I hear Lucifer is loyal to Lilith, no one has seen him with another woman on his arm and it’s been 7 years, hashtag faithful.”

“Ah, well, 7 years is a long time to go without intimacy…I say the man is touch starved and would like some attention.” Valentino says, “Anyone can still get lonely, no matter how faithful.”

“I like the way you think Val,” Vox grips your chin as you grit your teeth. “And I think your little whore here will do just nicely.”

Before you know it was the day of Asmodeus’ birthday party. The V’s gave you the run down of the plan and how you were supposed to get close to the King of Hell himself— who you haven’t even seen in person for as long as you been hell. Which was a few years by now. You were a simple lowlife, you kept to yourself and tried to survive, only to end up within his grasp. Was he as cruel as people say? ‘What sort of question is that? Of course he was! He was the King of fucking Hell, which last time you checked, wasn’t given to just anyone.’

Of all the people, of everyone in Hell, it just has to be you. Because of your cursed deal with Val, you were stuck in a continuous limbo that you couldn’t escape from. Damn you and your loyalty, damn it all if it will end up with you dead ( again ) on the steps of Lucifer’s palace. This wasn’t fair— but then again, when has your situation ever been fair?

“Oh, you look just like a doll.” Valentino ruffled with the fake angel wings that adorned your back, fixing and prodding with whatever to make you more presentable, “Like an angel. Hell, upon just a glance mio caro you might have been able to get away with actually being one.”

And as you glance at your reflection in the mirror you felt a sudden sharp pain in the center of your forehead. Only fragments of memories came flooding your mind like a crashing wave. It was all so blurry but the word Angel held some sort of weight on you but you couldn’t place exactly what.

You held onto your head, trying to steady your breathing and relaxing your nerves as Valentino continues to add the finishing touches to your look.

“Get it together, dove.” Valentino meets your gaze in the reflection, “I hope you won’t disappoint me.”

“No..” The pain in your head quickly fades away as soon as it came, “I can do this.”

“Good, because it is just about your turn to be presented for the auction.”

The auction. Asmodeus does it for sport at every single one of his parties but now that this is his birthday party, this auction is the biggest one yet. It is where he finds Hell’s most beautiful prized possessions, not limiting to actual sinners. The hope was to capture Lucifer’s attention as he would be in the crowd through this angel facade, and pray that he would bet on you. And if that didn’t work, then you would have to move on to plan B. And you didn’t like plan b.

Valentino wished you luck as you stood behind the curtain to the center stage, disappearing into the shadows to leave you on your own and this mission that was screwed from the get go.

“And last but not least, I present to you—! what is the object’s name again?” The announcer whispers, putting his microphone away from his face to get a confirmation from another employee, “Ah! The pure and innocent, (Y/N)!”

The curtain suddenly opens, the spotlight from above blinding you in away that made you shield your eyes from the brightness. You squint, looking upon a sea of red lustful eyes looking over your figure with curiosity. You take a deep breath, as you played the part of a shy girl, slowly bringing your hands to cover yourself even though the white thin laced gown left little to the imagination.

“Hubba hubba! Would you look at that boys?” Asmodeus’ eyes nearly turn into hearts at the sight of you, “And I thought nothing could even look so angelic in Hell!”

“What a beaut’” Mammon agrees.

“Indeed.” Lucifer sat beside his friends, trying to cover his boredom with peaked interest as he looks in your direction. This whole thing was pretty fucked up to him but that was just the way of life down here, there’s no changing that— no changing people when it is just in their nature. Now usually he wouldn’t indulge such things but he was the King of Hell, and he had to play the part to maintain order even though he longed for nothing but to be constructing rubber ducks right now.

“500!” A man in the crowd closer to the stage shouts.

The announcer points in the man’s direction with enthusiasm, “I hear 500! What about 550? Do I hear 550?”

“600!” Another shouts.

“600 to the gentleman in red! But do I hear a 650? 650?”

Asmodeus sits back in his seat, taking another swig of his whiskey. Mammon looks at his friend in disbelief as the unknown sinners below them begin to shout various of numbers for you, “Is she not to the Lustful Overlords taste?”

“Ah, I have so many who do the innocent act. It gets boring after awhile. But if you’re interested…you should buy her.” Asmodeus smirks, shaking the single ice cube in his glass as he signals to the waitress for another.

“She ain’t my type, but—” Mammon gets a sudden idea, “Lucifer should have her. I’m sure he gets off to the Angel shit don’t you your highness?”

Lucifer tips his hat up with his cane, “I am married.”

“To a woman who you haven’t seen in seven years!” Asmodeus rolls his eyes with a loud groan before raising his hand to join the bid, “Lighten up! Good sir, I say 2500!”

“What a doozy! 2500! 2500! Do I hear 3000!?” The announcer nearly jumps from his stool at the amount offered, “Going once! Going twice—!”

“Asmodeus.” Lucifer warned. Not wanting any part in this sinful behavior.

The sound of a gavel rang through the air, finalizing the amount, “And sold to the gentleman in VIP! Your prize will wait outback until you are ready to retrieve it! Enjoy!”

Just like that the plan was working. In just less than five minutes you were sold off like some prize. Your life being in yet another’s hands that wasn’t your own, it was a bit ironic since this life is almost just the same as the one you led on Earth. It was getting harder and harder to distinguish which one was truly Hell.

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost in any other social media.

Be sure to leave a comment & let me know if you want to added to the tag list for this story so you’re updated whenever I drop a new chapter! xo

[writingwisterias]

pls do leon's reactions to his partner aknowledging about Sherry, since i saw you already done with Ada, like what if someday he get question of "Babe, who is Sherry Birkin..?" and would he introduce them tgt ??😳

Hii! This is so cute because I always liked the idea of the two of them staying somewhat close. Or at least him keeping tabs on her throughout his time working for the government. Whenever they knew it or not

Warnings: Drinking, Light jealousy

Gn!Reader

RE2:

If we do it with post Re2, I'm thinking like after the 2 years of training they subject him to it would be interesting

I like to think Sherry would have sent him letters, so I imagine he would have kept them

You stumble across the box when decluttering the wardrobe, with his return from training you need a bit more room in there for his stuff

You can tell by the handwriting that it's a child but as far you know Leon doesn't have a kid

When you ask him about Sherry he would be slightly touchy after all the deal he made with government that's now made him into a hardened soldier is still dominate in his mind.

He'll explain it to you, he's already spoken about the events of raccoon City just not what happened afterwards

You'll offer her a place here if that's something you wanted. Maybe hoping that the shared trauma could be good for him and her

Allowing them both to have a sense of normalcy in their lives

But even you aren't that naive to know that can't happen

RE4R:

I think at this stage he would want to forget about raccoon City

It's only after Spain that all of the feelings sort of resurface

He sort of closes himself away and you find him looking at the old rpd badge he managed to keep and a simple drawing of him and two women

You know his past is complicated which is why you don't bring it up

It surprises you that he does.

He explains the situation and night he went through. Finding peace in having an outlet he can trust to air out everything

You aren't jealous of her existence, in fact its sort of sweet seeing this really delicate side of him

Infinite Darkness:

It's sort of the same really with RE4R

You wouldn't know about her existence unless he wanted you too

I imagine it would be one of those late night chats where he sort of tells you more about his past in the comfort of the darkness and embrace you shared

The way he talks about her makes you happy, that even in the darkness of his life there was at least something good to come out of it

Again maybe in the morning he would share the letters he received from her

And with your help he might write back finally

Damnation:

He's pissed off

I imagine this is where he heard about her becoming an agent

So you find out about her and what she meant to him through a drunken rant about how he was basically used

And despite their promise of her protection they steered her into the job he didn't want her to do

He had no say in her upbringing and that's what irritated him most

It's sweet seeing his passion for her life and the regrets of not trying harder to be there for her

It would fuel his downward spiral towards hating what he's doing

After all the reason he agreed to work for them was to protect her

RE6:

You and Leon were both still trying to function after the crash, checking over your bodies to ensure neither of you were severely injured.

His head shot up with the call of his name, his body automatically moving to stand in front of you.

That should have been your first sign that there was nothing to be jealous about but no, your tired and stressed out brain instead focused on his relaxed tone

it was almost caring...of course it was

It wasn't until after the fight that you brought it up, wanting to know the history

Guilt settled in fast after his explanation, instead steering your thoughts to the mission

A few weeks later you actually set up a plan for him and her to meet, finally catching up after all those years.

Seeing him smile just a little bit was enough for you

Vendetta:

He was already fragile as it is, you didn't mean to make him spiral more

It wasn't your fault that he kept that side of his life away from you.

You appreciate the support group that actually existed around him whenever he chose to acknowledge it or not

It was large enough for him, but there was always a text from one name you weren't familiar with

You knew you shouldn't have bought it up but you did

He wasn't shouting or pissed at you...almost...sad

The name linked back to the one night he'll never recover from. A little girl now groan

The same one trying to help him instead of him helping her

It was guilt. You could understand why but it still made your heart hurt anyway

Death Island:

He mentioned her a few times, it was never anything that you should be concerned about

In fact when you met her; he smiled at how fast you both hit it off

Finally creating something that he thought felt similar to a family.

She would begin to come around a lot more to see you both, staying in the spare room in your house.

It was sweet them finally building a bond and heal each other with the love they deserved

With Claire being present in his life again it almost felt like a fated family that he's grown to truly love and will himself to protect

With you and Sherry at the centre of it.

[grace5425]

before you go performing

part one

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since you spent the night in Mattheo’s dorm, and to him, it felt like an eternity had passed.

Time had a funny way of dragging when emotions were involved—emotions Mattheo didn’t quite know how to handle. He wasn’t good with feelings, or vulnerability, or—hell—words. But he was good at avoiding. That, he had down to an art.

So that’s what he’d been doing.

Nothing outright cruel or glaringly obvious. You were still his best friend, after all. But the subtle distance was there. He hadn’t set foot in the library since that night, even though he used to haunt the place just to sit across from you while you worked. He took the long way around the castle to steer clear of the courtyards you liked. He slipped in and out of the common room at odd hours, never lingering long enough for your paths to cross.

He told himself it was for the best. That if he ignored the ache in his chest and the buzz in the back of his mind for long enough, it would dull into silence. But it hadn’t. If anything, the feeling had only grown louder—more persistent. Like a song stuck on repeat, refusing to fade out.

And now, with Theo's smug expression practically glowing as he stood a few feet away, that quiet buzzing had transformed into a full-blown siren in his skull.

You were going on a date.

With some seventh-year Ravenclaw whose name Theo didn’t bother to mention—and even if he had, Mattheo wasn’t sure he could’ve remembered it. Or wanted to. Just the thought made something in his chest twist unpleasantly.

Before he could say—or do—something he’d regret, like snapping his wand clean in two, he turned sharply on his heel, stalking down the corridor with long, angry strides, his eyes locked on the stone floor like it had personally offended him.

He didn’t know where he was going. He just needed to move. To breathe. To not think about you with someone else.

That plan, like most of his plans lately, didn’t last long. Because just as he rounded the corner, he slammed directly into someone.

Someone warm. Someone familiar.

You.

“Oh! Matty!” you laughed, looking up at him with wide eyes and a bright grin, the kind that always knocked the breath from his lungs. “Hey, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” You shifted your bag higher on your shoulder, eyes scanning his face like you were trying to read him.

Mattheo blinked. Once. Twice. His heart was thundering now, and not just from the collision.

“I heard you have a date tonight.”

The words tumbled out before he could stop them—unfiltered, unplanned, dangerously close to sounding bitter. If he hadn’t been so practiced in that calm, aloof facade, you might’ve seen the flash of something—jealousy, maybe?—in the way his jaw clenched.

You tilted your head slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you nodded. “Yeah. Let me guess… Theo told you?” Your voice was soft, teasing, not a hint of guilt in it. Why would there be?

“We’re going to Madam Puddifoot’s. Seven o’clock.” You smiled again, though this time it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Should be a nice time.”

Mattheo’s frown deepened, his brows drawing together. “You hate that place.”

You let out a soft laugh, more reflex than genuine amusement, and gave a casual shrug. “He suggested it, and… come on, I don’t hate it.”

But you did. You hated it more than you were willing to admit out loud.

At first, Mattheo used to think it was the overwhelming amount of pink, the lacey curtains, or the heart-shaped menus. But he’d learned better over time. You loved pink. You wore bows in your hair and doodled flowers in the margins of your notes. You weren’t afraid of girly things—not at all.

What you hated was the expectation.

Madam Puddifoot’s wasn’t just a tea shop. It was a stage. Everything about it was polished to a sickening shine—the pristine tablecloths, the over-sweetened tea, the couples performing love like it was a rehearsed play. It was too perfect. Too tight. Too fake.

It reminded you of home. Of a dining room where nothing was ever out of place, but everything felt wrong. Where your parents smiled with their teeth but never with their eyes, where they praised your posture more than your passions, and where being presentable mattered more than being yourself.

Mattheo knew that. He knew how your hands trembled ever so slightly when someone spoke to you in that condescending, clipped tone that sounded a little too much like your mother’s. He knew that behind every polite smile was a breath you didn’t take fully.

But he never said anything. Never told you he noticed. Never told you that it drove him a little crazy, seeing you shrink into yourself for the comfort of others.

So instead, he nodded, forcing back the tightness in his chest and the words that threatened to spill out—words he didn’t know how to handle, let alone say aloud. He slapped on a grin, the same cocky, careless one he always wore when he needed to hide what he was really feeling.

“Well,” he drawled, voice light and teasing, “have fun, sweetheart. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, but the warmth in your gaze lingered.

As you walked past him, the strap of your bag slipping from your shoulder again, Mattheo stayed rooted to the spot—wondering if the guy you were going to meet would notice the way your fingers fidgeted when you were nervous. Wondering if he’d care. Wondering if he deserved to.

[dokidokitsuna]

Daughters

…It’s been a minute since I posted any art here. At first I thought it might be because I was just getting depressed again, but tbh I’ve been happier and more creative than ever. ^^; Things are definitely different this time around…and I think it’s something that’s been building for a long time.

Recently, I started thinking about Daughters of the Pumpkin Queen again– an old webcomic that I worked on back when I was in college. And although I hate reading my old work, I made myself skim through it, and I was honestly stunned at the quality of the writing, especially in the unfinished Season 2. O_O If I can do stuff like that while school is literally eating my brains away, man…I don’t know why I’m not famous already. People really don’t appreciate genius, do they…?

Anyway, genius or not, it’s clear that I worked really hard to make it a high-quality webcomic, putting in more and more effort and polish with every new installment…while it gradually became less and less popular, like everything else I did at the time. And I think DotPQ was kind of the final straw for me, back then...

I remember getting really depressed and miserable about my art in the years that followed…I didn’t think I was depressed and miserable, but in hindsight, I was clearly in the “Anger” and “Bargaining” stages of the grieving process. ^^; I started pushing myself to do anything I could stomach to get more popular as an artist– I joined more sites, I started posting more standalone art, I branched out to new types of art; writing novels, composing music, starting speedpaint video essays near the end. I just wanted an audience again so badly, and I knew I was good at all these things, because everyone I brought my art to directly told me so. So I figured it was just a matter of finding the right niche.

Long story short, it didn’t work. ^^; I learned a ton of new artistic skills, and I definitely don’t regret that, but I never did get what I wanted– i.e. a steady stream of external validation on at least a weekly basis. What I did get was new fans of my more sporadic content, like my video essays and animation…and before that was low-key frustrating, because I really couldn’t do more than one of those a month, at best. What would I do for validation in the meantime…?

But now…I don’t really care? ^^; I don’t feel like I need validation in the meantime anymore…and at first I thought it was just laziness (or the bouts of depression) but now I’m thinking it was also just me subconsciously fighting this change in my mindset. After all, when you think of online artists, they’re usually in one of two camps: the dedicated people who chase the algorithms on a weekly/daily basis, or the legendary people who just drop a masterpiece every couple months and never say anything. And because I knew I didn’t want to be the latter; I assumed I needed to be the former, but maybe there’s middle ground.

I’m not 100% sure what it is…but I know I’ve come to be fine with just working on projects by myself for weeks or months. I don’t mind taking my time with difficult drawings anymore, or simply deciding not to post them if I don’t like them, without feeling like I wasted the effort. And I’ve relearned to make pieces I’m proud of without even wanting to post them online– initially this was because I was just afraid no one would like them as much as I expected, and it was better not to take the risk. ^^; But now it’s more like…that’s not always what they’re for. Sometimes I just want to get an idea out of my head and look at it, and that’s fine by itself.

Best of all, I can finally work on my original projects with no guilt or shame. ^^ That’s basically what I did all last month, and I had a great time. I spent hours writing every day; I made a bunch of new drawings; I even did a color study for the first time in a while. And I was the only witness…and it still feels wrong, but not as wrong as it used to. It’s kinda freeing. ‘_’

I still like to share art and talk about it with fans; it’s still the highlight of my life and one of the main reasons I feel motivated to make art. But it’s not an imperative anymore; there’s no pressure to make it happen at all costs. And I think this year, I’m going to make a conscious effort to accept that as normal. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been watching a lot of Duchess Celestia lately, but I think it’s time to review my lifestyle as an artist and lean into the parts I actually enjoy.

Now, as for this drawing: I just really loved the characters in this little series, despite all the bad memories attached to working on it. ^^ And even though Season 2 had a great storyline and part of me is tempted to finish it, I think Season 1 had a stronger concept; to the point where it’d probably be a better idea to reboot the series, if I ever went back to it.

Maybe as just a short run with 2 or 3 episodes, to play with the concept in a new way. I like the idea of re-imagining Mariska and Etelka as teenagers (which wasn’t possible in the original lore)…y’know, let them be a little more driven and opinionated, and have some more agency. DotPQ was heavily inspired by Fireball in terms of the premise; this could be a chance to borrow some more from it in terms of tone. ^^ Idk, it’s just a fun idea…I’ll probably just toy with it in the background along with everything else.