kingofthecotas · 2 days ago
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twin skeletons | read on ao3
soulmate au, 2023 season | ~3k
it's uhhh kind of getting better but not really lads
——
Oberlungwitz, Germany 
The last thing Marc wants is to answer the phone. He’s sore, pissed off, and fucking humiliated.
But he answers, because Valentino had called after Mandalika. And he’d called about the fourth surgery, sounding almost guilty—as if, for the first time in years, Marc had said something and he’d listened. 
You didn’t call after Jerez.
He’s calling now. In fact, he won’t stop fucking calling.
“That bike is going to kill you.”
Marc sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t ask why do you care? because that answer is going to be more than he’s equipped to handle today. “It—it’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad? Marc.”
Despite it all, he’s never getting tired of this, of the sound of his name in Valentino’s mouth. It’s something, at least. 
“Whatever. It’s bad. Not a lot I can do about it.”
They haven’t been careful, haven’t crept around each other to figure out this new version of themselves. Valentino calls, tells Marc he’s an idiot, almost cracks the lid off the pressure cooker of the last eight years, and Marc will hang up before it gets too dangerous. 
And next time Valentino calls, he will answer.
This is an old argument, a well-worn path, one that’s hung between them since 2013. 
“Shouldn’t even be telling you this,” Marc mutters. “You run fucking Ducatis.” 
“Everyone can see the bike is bad,” Valentino says, pointed. 
“Fucking—obviously.” Because this is Marc’s circuit. He doesn’t like expecting things, but he should be head and shoulders above the rest. He should not be riding a bucking animal down the waterfall, feeling it writhe underneath him like it wants to leave him a smear on the asphalt. 
He should not be crashing five times at the Sachsenring. 
He didn’t race in Indonesia, in the end, and he’d told himself it was Álex that persuaded him. Maybe that was easier than remembering how his name sounded when Valentino called that first time. 
“I think I will not race,” he forces out, mirror-inverse of that conversation. “I might get hurt.”
Nothing. Just the silence to let him breathe. Marc’s grateful for it. 
“I’ll be in Misano,” Valentino says softly.
“Of course you will.”
“Marc.”
“This is not—” He doesn’t know what he wants to say. This is not me forgiving you, maybe. Except he probably already has. 
His arm aches, something deeper than his twice-broken bone, pulsing with his heartbeat. Valentino used to run his fingers over it, brushing the piece of his soul that lives under Marc’s skin over and over again. They used to—
Valentino used to curl his lip, used to act as if he thought Marc belonged to him. He doesn’t make the same demands he did back then, not since Mandalika, but they hover in the silence nonetheless. The worst thing is that Marc understands him now, understands why it scared him to have his life so intertwined with someone else’s. 
But they’re still not okay. 
Not for the first time, Marc wonders where they might be if he’d only lost the front in Indonesia, or if he’d only been flung over the handlebars, if his head hadn’t cracked against the asphalt. Not here, that’s for fucking sure. 
He doesn’t say that, because Valentino isn’t a hair trigger anymore but he’ll make a guilty little sound that twists Marc’s stomach. 
“I’ll see you in Italy,” he says instead, and the relief is visceral through the phone. 
——
Misano Adriatico, Italy
As promised, Valentino is in Misano.
Of course he would be. 
It doesn’t take him long to find Marc; he knows the place well, knows how to slip through the motorhome lot without being accosted. He knows just where to wait to catch Marc after his track walk, to beckon him with a tilt of his head.
Marc follows. Of course he does. 
It’s—
They’ve seen each other, looked each other in the face (refused a handshake), since they fell apart, since Valentino retired. Since Mandalika. They haven’t truly looked at each other for a very long time. 
He’s different, Marc realises. Older, yes, more stubble, curls winding out from beneath his cap, but more than that, he’s tired, mouth tight, eyes shadowed. 
“It was a, ah, scary moment in Germany,” Valentino offers to the silence between them.
“Which one?” Marc mutters, then, “Scary for you or for me?” Another jab. Maybe he just wants to see if the soft underbelly is still there. 
“Ah…” Valentino looks up, away, shrugs with his left shoulder. “Why are you—?” He stops. 
“Why what?” Valentino should not get to ask anything, really, but Marc had answered the phone. He keeps answering. Keeps cracking the door a little wider. 
He should stop. Probably. Maybe. 
Valentino finally meets his gaze, eyes blank—hiding—and tilts his chin at Marc’s arm, at the healed scars, the ruined skin, the mark hidden under his T-shirt sleeve. “Does it still hurt?”
“It’s been worse,” Marc says slowly. It had been worse after the surgeries. It had been worse after Sepang. 
Valentino half-reaches a hand out, eyes boring into Marc’s shoulder.
Marc swallows. “No.”
“Marc,” Valentino breathes, and before Marc can move away, there’s a hand on his right arm, a thumb brushing his mark.
It’s—
He closes his eyes, because then at least Valentino can’t see—but his body must give him away, must shudder as electricity snaps outwards from the contact. He doesn’t make a sound, thank God.
And then—he rips his arm free, slaps his hand over his mark, because Valentino does not get to do this. He was the one who didn’t want this, didn’t want them. He was the one who held Marc up in front of the world, in front of snapping jaws and hungry eyes, and said here, this one. 
He was the one who—
“Fuck you,” Marc manages, and his soulmark throbs with the echo of a kick. Inch given, mile taken. He won’t make that mistake again. (He’s made it so many times before.) “Don’t do that.” 
Valentino’s eyes are huge now, like he can’t understand—there’s the chink in the armour, Marc thinks with grim satisfaction. Except why is Valentino reaching out to him? 
They stay as they are for an excruciating moment—Marc covering his soulmark, Valentino’s arm still outstretched—before someone rides past on a scooter, too close to their hiding place, and the scene shatters. 
Valentino hasn’t touched his mark for nearly eight years. It had felt so good that Marc wants to throw up. 
He flees before he can think too hard about it. 
——
It must have been—
Here, Valentino was saying. Remember you belong to me. Remember I can do this. 
Right? 
I don’t want you, but we’re soulmates anyway. I hurt you. You can never really get away from me.
“Marc.” Álex’s voice makes him jump. “You’ve got the call in ten minutes, remember? Nadia and the team.”
“Yeah.” He stares at the kitchenette worktop, at Álex leaning over, at the part of himself on his brother’s wrist. 
“Are you okay?”
“Is this the right thing to do?” Marc whispers.
“It’s just a meeting.” But Álex knows him, knows what he means. “You can’t stay on that bike. It’s going to kill you.”
The echo of Valentino’s words—Marc snaps his gaze up to his brother’s face. “I thought Honda—I thought I’d be there forever.”
“Forever is a long time.”
It is. Marc didn’t understand that when he was twenty-one. 
“It’s just a phone call,” Álex continues. “No decision yet. You have some time to work it out, no? Remember your plan. You deserve to be on a fast bike.” Then he tilts his head. “What’s wrong?” 
“The team—” 
“Something else.” Of course Álex knows him better than anyone else.
(That’s what it should be like.) 
“Valentino’s here.” 
Álex makes a face. “It’s Misano.”
“He’s—he still calls me.”
Another face. “So?”
Marc rubs his right arm, an unconscious movement. 
“You know what—I won’t tell you what to do.” Álex twists his lips together. “But you know what I think.” 
“Yeah.”
——
He manages to avoid Valentino until Saturday morning; nowhere near long enough to gather his thoughts, but also—
It feels too long, somehow. He’s looking between motorhomes as he passes them, half-expecting to see the lanky figure waiting for him. He’s on his guard, that’s all it is. Can’t be caught unawares again. 
It’s a tightrope, a careful tread, and they could fall, they could plummet. Valentino could kick his feet out from under him. Again. 
Marc might believe it, if he didn’t know that Valentino has no need to: acts of self-sabotage well and truly over, he would never choose to reach for Marc again, would never pick up the phone, would never run his fingers over the imprint of himself unless he wanted to.
Maybe Marc hit his head so hard in Indonesia it knocked something loose in Valentino’s too. 
He’s not surprised when Valentino appears, waiting. And Marc moves towards him, thread-pull, caught on the line of his unreadable stare.
“I’m sorry,” Valentino says when he’s close enough.
“You’re sorry.”
“Yes.”
Marc controls his expression after a long moment, snaps his mouth shut. “Um. Thank—thank you.” 
“It was, ah, not right. To—” He makes a loose gesture. Can’t even say what he’s done, the line he’s crossed. 
And yet Marc would have given anything, once, to hear Valentino apologise to him. “It’s—fine. Don’t worry about it.”
There’s a flicker, not disappointment but something close, as if he were expecting more of a struggle. Marc is past fighting. 
His arm hurts and the bike is shit and he thinks—he thinks he’s going to Gresini. Giving up the fight. 
Ho turns and walks away. 
——
Valencia, Spain
He throws a bottle of water at the door once it’s closed behind Bezzecchi; it makes an unsatisfying thump, then a second one when it drops to the floor.
Fucking—kid. Holding Valentino’s grudges for him, so simplistic in his belief. Determined to make Marc’s shit day even worse. 
Then he wipes his eyes, crusted with an afternoon’s worth of tears, and collects the bottle, quietly embarrassed at himself.
Santi’s hands on his shoulders had been a weight like never before, and he’d sobbed like a child—that’s his team, his family. And he fucking left them. He couldn’t stay, but—
But. 
He scrubs underneath his nose, tries to sit in it just enough that he’ll be through it by tomorrow. Tomorrow means Gresini. Ducati. Start again.
There’s another knock on the door—not Álex, he wouldn’t bother—and if it’s Bezzecchi again, Marc is going to do something really stupid. 
It���s not. It’s—
Valentino has his lips twisted together, hands deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched. He’s staring somewhere to the left of Marc. “Hello.”
“Fuck, Vale, not now.” A slip. Marc curses himself, but the vitriol quiets when Valentino looks at him, finally looks at him again. 
“I just wanted—” A long shrug. “It must be difficult. I—”
There’s no reason for him to be here—not a hard crash, not like in Germany or Indonesia, no reason for him to extend a hand again. It must be the same as Misano, as saying here I am, remember how we’re connected. 
And—fine.
If Valentino wants to play that game, if he wants to reach out and say look, I’m here, I’ll always be here, then—Marc lives under his skin as well. He’ll always be there. 
He steps to the side, stares at Valentino until he slips through the door, and makes sure to drag his gaze up Valentino’s arm, his shoulder, lingering on the piece of skin where both their soulmarks sit. 
Valentino notices, says, “Marc,” like he’s facing down a feral animal, and follows it up with, “You’re upset,” as if Marc is the one being unreasonable, as if Marc is the one who’s been unreasonable for the last eighteen fucking months. 
“No shit,” Marc hisses. The space between them may as well be an abyss. There’s a burning coal lodged in his sternum. 
Valentino solves half the problem for him, drifting around the end of the sofa and coming to a halt half a step away. Uncharacteristic of him, to be so off-kilter, so unsure of himself. 
Marc plunges in. His hand finds Valentino’s mark. 
It’s barely a second, a gulp of breath, a thread wound between them, and then Valentino pushes him back so hard he almost stumbles. Marc opens his eyes, the instinct of an apology forming on his tongue—
Valentino kisses him. 
It’s desperate-frantic-starving, teeth and gasps, hands in his hair, a grunt when his shoulder blades hit the motorhome wall. Finding his own hands useless at his sides, he blindly grabs at Valentino’s sleeve until he can touch it again. Familiar. As if it’s been minutes rather than years.
Valentino makes a noise like a groan, like he’s aching, and traces around the branch-twist of scars until he finds the mark. If Marc hadn’t been pressed against the wall, his legs would have given out when stars explode at the back of his skull.
They used to be so gentle, until they weren’t, until Marc rolled into the gravel or raced too hard or did something that made Valentino think of a future or a hundred other unconscious transgressions. They used to be so careful, except when they weren’t.
Marc grins, sharp against the corner of Valentino’s mouth, and curls his fingers into claws. 
This is what you wanted. He digs in, just a little. Remember? You wanted to tear me out. 
Another gasp, shuddering, and yeah, he can do it too. He’s still there. 
He expects retaliation; it’s not as if he hasn’t had worse, after all. Valentino used to get there first, used to fight with nails and teeth, and Marc would capitulate. He expects the same now: a scratch, a bite, have nothing on the lingering shadow of his boot. 
When Valentino says, “Marc,” he sounds like he did on the phone in the hospital in Lombok: the same wretched noise that meant stop, please, don’t hurt yourself; that made Marc listen when Álex told him not to ride; that meant you terrify me; that meant—
He swallows, relaxes his hand. Fucked it, maybe. 
Except Valentino noses around Marc’s jaw and whispers, “Bed?” Like he’s asking. Like it’s ten years ago. 
Like he cares what Marc wants.
For once, they want the same thing, so Marc twists his left arm and, impressing even himself, manages to open the bedroom door. There’s a huff into the crook of his neck, and he finds himself pushed backwards once again, going willingly this time because—
He doesn’t know why, and when Valentino drags his sleeve up, leans down, presses lips to his mark, it doesn’t matter. 
It could be nine, ten years ago. It could be Marc, twenty-one years old, biting back a desperate sob at the shivering heat, lightning arcing through sinew, and it’s not ten years ago and he’s not twenty-one but he wants, he wants, he wants. 
“Marc.” His name. Despite it all, he’s never getting tired of the sound of his name in Valentino’s mouth. “Marc—”
He tips his head back, allows himself to relax into it; his fingers wander through Valentino’s warm hair, gentle. An apology of sorts. 
Missed you, his brain hums, and when Valentino rubs his mark, he can almost pretend they’re thinking the same thing. 
Valentino’s hands move to his waist, to his jeans, careful now—he used to tug at Marc’s trousers, used to fumble the button in his eagerness, and this is foreign, delicate, so gentle. 
“Okay?” Asking again.
“Fuck’s sake—yes—”
Another laugh. Some kind of record, surely. It’s insane. They must be going insane together. 
He wishes he cared more. 
He kicks off his trousers and lets Valentino push him onto the bed, lets him trail kisses across his neck, like they’re something after all. He pulls back, searching, eyes darting side-to-side, wanting—
Marc almost slams the brakes, almost sends himself crashing to the ground, but he wants and Valentino wants and like it or not, the universe chained them together for a reason.
And they were good, before it burned to ash. Before Valentino dropped the struck match he’d been carrying since Laguna Seca. 
When Valentino rests his forehead against Marc’s shoulder and kisses his soulmark, Marc can almost believe it’s I’m sorry, I’m here. When he traces the outline of his soul on Valentino’s skin, he hopes it means I’m here, I’ll always be here, I didn’t leave you. 
——
When Marc wakes up—
He’s warm, sheets kicked around his ankles, solid heat against his back, and Valentino had been here, had let Marc scratch and snarl, had kissed his soulmark like it meant something. 
When Marc wakes up, there’s a hand on his arm, over his scars, over his mark, and it’s golden in his veins. For the first time in years, the bone-deep ache isn’t the only sensation in his right arm.
He doesn’t open his eyes. 
It’s not long before Valentino shifts, inhales sharply the way he always did—still does, apparently—when he’s falling out of sleep. He groans deep in his chest, and freezes. 
For a long moment, there’s nothing: no sound, no movement. Nothing, until Valentino extricates himself, moving as gently as if Marc is made of porcelain, and the warmth of his touch is gone from his mark. 
Marc can’t help the sound he makes, pitiful, when Valentino disappears and the familiar bruised ache is back. He’s carried it in his soulmark for so long he’s forgotten how it feels, how it should feel—
Valentino sighs. His footsteps, halfway around the room, halfway through collecting shoes and his shirt, pause. 
Marc does his best to smooth out his expression, to turn his face into the pillow like he’s still sleeping. If he opens his eyes, this will crack, splinter, collapse at his feet. 
Another exhale, and impossibly, the steps move closer again. Valentino brushes his hand over Marc’s forehead—pinched, despite himself, like it so often is—then rubs a thumb over his soulmark.
And fuck it—Marc can’t help that he sighs, that he relaxes, that it feels so good to have his soulmate touch him again. 
When Valentino says, “Marc,” on a breath, he sounds like he did at the start of them, in the hotel room in Monterey: reverent, careful, infinitely pained. The same way he used to say I love you. 
The hand disappears. The door opens, closes.
Marc opens his eyes. 
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omgwhatchloe · 1 day ago
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MODERN AU RDR2 CHARACTERS GETTING BROKEN UP WITH:
arthur
-he is always expecting something serious with his relationships no matter his age so he is DEVASTATED
-spirals into thinking hes completely unloveable and just hates himself
-makes up a million reasons why it was all his fault
-will not date again.
sean
-immediately looks for a rebound
-just gets annoyed at the situation until he finds some other girl to talk too
-until lenny and him temporarily broke up.
-he was absolutely broken, he locked himself in his room, drained his bank account on uber eats, gained 20 pounds, dyed his hair, shaved it off, and pretended on social media that he killed himself (his da called everyone in the gang crying and yelling at them to check if he was alive)
john
-very likely he had no idea the person who broke up with him actually saw them as being together together because he did not (bastard)
-only disappointed for a minute before going to the club
-ofc when abigail left him he did a similar thing to arthur, except started to rent the house she’d been wanting and get an actual job
-begged to see jack and abigail kept telling him it wasnt her that wouldn’t let jack see him, it was jack not wanting to go
mary-beth
-absolutely heartbroken over every SCUMBAG she falls in love with (they all cheat on her)
-lives on the bathroom floor crying until someone comes to get her
-cheers up when karen says she’ll burn his house down
-opens snapchat and obsesses over another boy on her quick add
lenny
-tries to force himself to move on by pretending he was never with anyone in the first place
-secretly stalks their social media because he cannot get over them
-fights with himself not to go back to them at the same time as doubting ever reason he left them
-only left sean because of drunk arthur convincing him too
karen
-immediately starts making posts to make them jealous, pretending shes on dates and living her best life
-finds their stuff and BURNS IT in their garden
-immediately goes on a bender to try convince herself life is better single
-will get absolutely furious over their new partners despite being ‘over it’ in a week
molly
-becomes a stalker.
-goes almost delusional in a mix of convincing herself shes worthless to she deserves everything and they should die
-making sure they havent found anyone else by following them around (cue restraining order)
-gets drunk and completely fucks up her hair
charles
-absolutely no crazy business, he just becomes very depressed
-reinforces his entire idea of the fact he was made to be alone
-never ever wants to date anyone again
-well no crazy business until he gets drunk and starts messaging them desperate to know what he did wrong
micah
-kidnaps them.
-back to jail he goes
abigail
-a complete mix of being furious and being respectful
-one minute she “understands” the next shes trying to get them fired
-shes pretty mature in the end and forces herself to move on
-cries while deleting pictures of them together
javier
-the messiest, bitchiest ex you could ever have
-spills all their secrets on his snapchat story then promptly throws up when they do the same
-announces the breakup by scribbling their faces out on pictures and re-posting them
-calls them names to every single gang member
-dms them on several different accounts calling them a traitorous cunt (he cheated 3 times)
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grif-hawaiian-rolls · 2 days ago
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RARE PAIR WEEK DAY 3: "...and they were roommates!"
Normal Fantasy Dude Tucker x Divine Donut for the alt universe prompt :3c
Writing for the au below the cut!
Lavernius Tucker was not entirely sure how he got here, but he couldn’t be mad about it. He wasn’t a pious man. He wasn’t exactly the most devout follower of the gods. Honestly, he suspected the only reason he was allowed into the temples, into the inner chambers, was because of the sword he carried. Just his luck he found the damn thing, right? Right. Luck.
“Tucker? Is everything okay?” The Oracle asks, and Tucker grins. He may not be a religious man, but he is a damn lucky one. Evidence? Right here- the Oracle himself, divine figure of fate and fortune, the one who strikes true and sees through time itself. One of the fucking gods.
“I’m good, Donut,” Tucker answers, because fuck yeah he was on a casual name basis with a fucking god. Then he leans in, and presses a warm kiss to the side of Donut’s mouth, because he was also the god’s lover. Suck on that, everyone who said he’d never amount to anything. 
“You sure? If we need to stop-” Donut fusses, because that’s what he does. Over ten feet of pure divine power, and he worries like a sheepdog over kittens.
“I know our watchword, Donut,” Tucker says, stealing another kiss. Donut’s hands are warm around him, and they’re not really doing much (this time, at this moment, at least) but the gentle brush of Donut’s fingers against Tucker’s hair make it really hard to focus on anything except relaxing into that touch. Donut hums with a pout on his lips and Tucker shifts his weight so he’s kneeling as he leans up to wrap an arm around the back of Donut’s neck. If he asked, Tucker had the excuse of playing with the long hair that floated around Donut like a halo. But it turns out, the god of fate and fortune had a hard time reading people. All of time and space? Sure, no biggie, like reciting a story you’ve heard your entire life. But people? Their expressions, their body language? Donut was utterly blind to it. It was endearing, in a very strange surreal way. It made him so…well. Human. Tucker runs his fingers through the thick locks of Donut’s hair, watching the small motion ripple out to the ends where it faded to soft gold. 
“I was just thinkin’, ya know? About how lucky I am,” Tucker grins wider, and Donut looked some awkward mix between curious and embarrassed. He thought he was sooo subtle. “Lucky to survive some of the shit I’ve seen, lucky to find this sword, lucky to be assigned to your temples…” 
Tucker pauses and lets his other hand slide down Donut’s shoulder, over the soft silk-like fabric of his tunic. Donut’s good eye, the one that witnesses the present world around him, follows the motion as best it can. When he can’t watch Tucker’s hand, Donut turns his attention to watching his face.
“Right…lucky,” Donut repeats, and Tucker loves watching the blush creep up into the god’s pointed ears. He just makes it so easy!
“Mhm,” Tucker is leaning in again, Donut watching him intently, but he isn’t done talking just yet. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone with some strings to pull was watching out for me. Nudging things to go just so, yeah? Making sure I’d end up in the right place, at the right time,”
“Would it bother you? If that were the case? Cau-cause I’m sure if it was- and I’m not saying that it is- I’m sure he-I-they’d only have your best interests at heart. But if you wanted them-him-them to stop-” Donut stumbles over his words, and Tucker lets him, for a beat, before he laughs.
“I don’t mind. I like having luck on my side, after all. Best kind of company there is, from what I heard. Besides, Luck is pretty damn cute, especially when he gets all flustered,”
“I- you- Tucker!”
Lavernius Tucker was not a devout or pious man. He was, however, a damn lucky one.
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fixinit-au · 2 days ago
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THE FIXINIT AU
"A different form, A different time"
After Bill Cipher invoked the Axolotl's name, the deity sends him to Theraprism, to go under indefinite karmic rehabilitation.
After hundreds of years of therapy, Bill has lost count. After useless attempts to break free, to resist professional help, to make himself believe that he will be free... Eventually, he gave up. Went along with whatever they wanted. Let them believe that this is actually worth something... He let Theraprism strip him of his own self, let himself become a shell of everything he once was; What's the point, if he will never be the same anyway, he will never be FREE?
This was it, until the Axolotl has made their decision, regarding Bill's case. He was always a special case, after all... And so he got a special chance. To be with a special someone.
Bill Cipher, now transported back to our dimension, wakes up in a human body, in the 1980's... And with a mission, which the Axolotl said to be his final trial;
"Fix his mistakes, before he even made them."
FIXINIT1:
A human Bill Cipher, back in the 80's.
Bill is given a human body, the body of a creature who he always thought to be lowly and pathetic.
But other than that, he is given a mission, or rather, a "list" of the final things Bill has to get done, that would finally put an end to his karmic rehabilitation at Theraprism.
What does that list contain? Only one person knows; And that is Axel; or, rather, the Axolotl themselves, disguised in a human body, to watch and monitor Bill's progress. To finally let him go, and give him a chance at the life he didn't know he want, there are things that need to be done. Just to name a few; "comfort someone", "open up to someone you trust", but most importantly... "Tell Ford the truth".
(That's right, this is just another Billford AU. Sorry if you thought otherwise.)
Ford Pines, as he canonically did in this time period, lives in Gravity Falls, doing research, building the interdimensional portal... Still believing Bill to be his brilliant, all-knowing Muse. So when he finds his so-called Muse, in a human form, all alone in the forest... You could say he's confused, but more importantly, he is overjoyed to welcome his Muse to his own dimension, regardless of why. So he takes him in, much to his own delight... But also to his assistant's dismay.
#FIXINIT1 focuses on the question; Will Bill be able to change the past, or is he doomed to make the same mistakes? Crippling with depression, identity crisis, and a feeling of hollowness after all the centuries spent at Theraprism, sprinkled with the pressure of eventually having to tell the truth, therefore being frustrate to no end with Ford still worshipping him with blind trust and calling him Muse, Bill is forced to confront himself, in order to finally get his second chance at like, and his second chance at getting Ford.
There may or may not be a romance sideplot with Fiddleford and eventually Stan.
Setting: Heavy with angst, occasional fluff and overall Mystery Quartet whimsiness.
Main themes: Forgiveness, second chances, identity crisis, survivor's guilt, PTSD, trust issues, body dysphoria, vulnerability.
FIXINIT2:
Gravity Falls; But Bill is not the villain.
Let's jump 30 years ahead, shall we?
Going with the route that Bill reveals the truth about his true self and his lies, and Ford, taking his time to consider it carefully, but ultimately forgives him. And they kiss. And they do more, but let's not get into that.
What does it change, regarding the canon timeline? The portal-test and portal-incident never happen; Ford and Bill managed to find another way to uncover Gravity Falls' weirdness. What's the Mystery Shack in the canon timeline, is now their own, small research center. Given how the portal-test never happens; Fiddleford doesn't go insane. His memory may be a bit messy because of previous uses of the memory gun, but he's in a much better shape, helping Bill and Ford with building their equipment, and also creating and selling his own inventions. Given how the portal-incident never happens either; Stan (having reconciled with Ford in a different way, more on that in FIXINIT1), is in a relationship with Fiddleford, and also runs a smaller, but also (kinda) more real gift shop.
#FIXINIT2; In this fixed timeline, Bill is also like an uncle (Grunkle? Not sure what Bill would count tbh) to Dipper and Mabel, a very fun one at that. A partner-in-crime, if you will; Someone who escorts them on their adventures, provides them with all the information they need, and fiercely protecting them if needed.
But, you might ask... If the canon Bill is now reformed, what's the point? What makes this interesting? Who is the "big threat", if not Bill Cipher?
(First of all, how dare you– I love tooth-rotting fluff and happiness, okay?)
Someone eerily similar to what Bill once was. Someone who might remind him of his journey, and how much of a thin line is keeping him from turning back. Someone who can provide a cruel, twisted mirror, forcing Bill to once again reflect on everything that now would be just brushed off as an inside joke.
That's right. Pyramid Steve. And his goal of bringing the Oddpocalypse.
Setting: At first, lots of fluff, whimsiness and happiness. Just fun! And the second half... Kinda like the canon finale, yknow.
Main themes: Second chances, identity crisis, found family, bits of psychological horror??? Thank that to Steve. (Might add more later, this is the more wip of the two)
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There are hundreds of Bill AUs flying around since the release of TBOB, so I might as well make my own, yknow?
As the name and the unusual amount of happiness (?) suggests, this started out as a redemption/fix-it AU. Why? Because I'm a goddamn pussy and I need my favorite characters to be happy, even if it doesn't make any sense canon-wise.
OR HAVING FUN, I GUESS
So yeah. Into the Cipherverse
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GALLERY
1. human Bill; canon design
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2. Overall Bill without clothes (for science)
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3. FIXINIT1 Bill; The Twink
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4. FIXINIT2 Bill; The Uncle
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5. Axel; Axolotl's human form
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theangelcatalogue · 1 day ago
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❝ Is she divine? Is the wine? La Seine, la Seine, la Seine. ❞ ― YANDERE CUPID X DARLING HEADCANONS
→ MY OCS
→ ROMANTIC
→ FEMALE DARLING
→ TW: MURDER/MURDER MENTIONS, PROTECTIVE BEHAVIOR, POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, CLINGY BEHAVIOR, WORSHIPING BEHAVIOR, TOXIC BEHAVIOR, DELUSIONAL BEHAVIOR, KIDNAPPING/KIDNAP MENTION, DELUSIONAL BEHAVIOR, LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT, JEALOUS BEHAVIOR, STALKING, BLOOD, MURDER, VIOLENCE/VIOLENCE MENTIONS, SENSITIVE TOPICS, BAD GRAMMAR, BAD ENGLISH AND MADE BY A MINOR! IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE, FEEL FREE TO LEAVE! PLEASE TELL IF I FORGOT SOMETHING AND ENJOY \(⌒▽⌒)!
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───── ❝ NORMAL/CUPIDS EXIST AU ❞ ─────
❝ La Seine, la Seine, la Seine. ❞
★ → Have you ever wondered how love works? How people fall in love? There is only one good reason on why we fall in love.
★ → Cupids.
★ → They were created right after humans, they were created by a Goddess of love called Davina, that created cupids to help humans find their path in love, so they wouldn't suffer like her.
★ → It was rare the situations when cupids fell for human, nothing wrong happened thought...
★ → Until now.
★ → A cupid called Delilah, while doing her work, preparing to shot her arrow, ended up getting distracted with something... someone.
★ → You.
★ → You were the prettiest woman she ever saw in her life, in of the years in her life, she never saw a prettier human being, she felt a weird feeling while observing you, she was fascinated by you, she did what any person would do.
★ → She started to follow for a while, she would question herself of why she is doing this. It is because she always watched humans and made humans fall in love, and she always heard stories about cupids that fell for humans, so she just snapped and decided to obsess over a random human and call it love?
★ → Of course not! It's because you two are soulmates, destined by the arrow and bow to be together!
★ → She memorizes everything about you, your routine, your friend's name, family member's name, favorite color, food, music, artists, she knows everything about you! She knows you better than you know yourself, and she wants to keep it that way! She wants to be the only person that knows everything about you!
★ → When she doesn't have any matchmaking to do, she stalks you, she hides very well, you don't even notice her, although you feel like somebody is watching you sometimes...
★ → But she never wants you to feel unsafe around her! She just loves you so much, that she needs to follow you, just to know what you are doing, just to feel close to you, just to see and hear you... and feel that amazing feeling again.
★ → She is convinced that if you knew her, you would feel this feeling too, you would also be in love with her, and maybe even date her, marry her! Oh! She already imagines your weeding dress! You would look divine!
★ → Of course she is aware of things couldn't work out, modern times, humans don't believe in cupids like before, you probably would freak out, but it's okay! Love conquers all!
★ → Gets so jealous when you talk to others, she wanted to be the one talking with you! But instead, she has to observe you from afar! It's so unfair, every time she feels jealous, she starts to imagine you talking to her instead of other people, what makes her feel really giddy and in love like a high school girl with a crush.
★ → She is the reason some people you know disappeared, they just go puff out of nowhere, she has her way...
★ → Okay, okay! She killed them, but she promises you that it's for your good, she just wants to save you, you will thank her later! She knows that!
★ → And she kept doing this, until she got another matchmaking to do! Who are the lovebirds of this time?
★ → You... and... another person.
★ → No, no, no, no! This isn't supposed to happen! It's you and her! Not another person! She started to panic, she can't let this happen! There's only one thing that she needs to do.
★ → Kill the other person, and finally take you. Kidnap you.
★ → She remembers it so clearly, her rival bleeding, with an arrow in their neck, their face forever struck in an expression of shock and horror, the blood on her hands while she tries to clean up the mess, it felt so right, especially because it was for you, for her love, for her goddess, may Davina forgive her.
★ → She kidnaps you, and hides you well, somewhere where not even Davina and the other cupids would find you, it's okay dear, she will explain everything, don't be scared! She won't hurt you! She promises!
★ → She is clingy, never leaving your side, she is always there, taking care of you, complimenting you, she is a worshiper, she will treat you like a deity, she would do anything for you, except letting you leave, oh, she refuses to do this!
★ → Please, let her lay all her love on you.
" You are so perfect, what would I do without you? "
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★- I DON'T KNOW, DON'T KNOW, SO DON'T ASK ME WHY
★ YUPPIE A OC HEADCANON
★ So in this case it would be canon since it's my original character?
★ idk idk idk
★ I'm planning in doing an RTC Halloween special, but idk if i'm actually going to-
★ THANKS FOR READING THIS!! TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!! DON'T FORGET TO DRINK WATER! (don't be like me, I don't drink water since I got back from school)
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splendontcore · 1 year ago
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hippies and daddy issues. just the average happy tree town experience.
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erinwantstowrite · 4 months ago
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while im here im going to try and convince you guys to write more "Tim Drake joining the Batfam late" aus because it's underrepresented
like, i love the fics where he joins early. that's cute! but a fic where he joins late for whatever reason??? i eat it up like a cat starved for attention. i want Tim Drake being the "perfect" heir to Drake Industries and being known as the polite, well adjusted young man that everyone knows. and then turn around and find out that Tim has not only been stalking the Bats under their radar since he was, what, 9 years old? but on top of that, he's started solving cases that they can't get to. Tim who stalked so hard he learned where they learned their martial arts and went "backpacking across europe" only to have actually been learning from Shiva. Tim who has become an urban legend to the Batfam because they can't tell if this vigilante exists or not, since they never catch him, they don't have footage on him, etc. Or if they DO know him, they don't even think to put Tim Drake in the suspect pool because Tim Drake whined for an hour when he broke a nail at a charity event once. the kid is smart, sure, but he's not going out at night fighting crime and solving cases that Batman didn't know about yet.
even better if Tim named his vigilante persona an adjacent name to the Robin mantle. him knowing he can't BE Robin (perhaps Jason hadn't died in this au) but he could be a hero that helps them from the shadows
and obviously he makes a mistake of some kind... maybe he saves someone at an event as Tim Drake and Bruce sees how little hesitation he had. or maybe he gets injured and can't get up himself, and that's when a Bat or a Robin or someone finds this vigilante they almost thought was a myth: bloody, broken, and needing help. pick him up and take him home and then there are endless possibilities to what happens next but the ending BETTER be Tim finding his home with his people
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tonycries · 6 months ago
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Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officers...
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Synopsis. You don’t know what’s faster - how fast you were speeding down the highway, or how fast you’re on your knees for the hot officers that just so happen to pull you over.
Pairing. Officer! Gojo Satoru x Reader x Officer! Toji Fushiguro
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, police! au, unprotected, being pulled over, thréesome, eiffel tower, oral (female + male receiving), manhandling, dynamics, cúmplay, marking, they lowkey make it a competition, implied dp, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 5.0k
A/N. I don’t condone actually speeding y’all.
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You were screwed. Completely and utterly screwed.
“Shit shit shit-” you hiss, eyes flitting to the flashing red and blue lights in your rearview mirror, sirens blaring behind you. The engine roared, pavement a blur beneath your tires - a stupid, spur-of-the-moment decision. You knew you were pushing your luck with your late night speeding, fueled by an empty highway and even emptier adrenaline. 
And, well, it seems like your little thrill-seeking caught up with you, quite literally, as you hastily pull over on the side of the road. Heart sinking when the police car parks right behind you - the final nail in your coffin. 
You heave out a steadying breath, trying to get your thoughts in order long enough to come up with an even slightly believable explanation. Why did you think this was a good idea, again?
Tap! Tap! Tap! 
Shit, in the heat of the moment you’d barely heard the heavy footsteps in the distance. Immediately snapping your head up to look at-
Oh.
Whatever flimsy excuse dies in your throat with just one glance at the officer knocking at your glass - the unfairly hot officer. Your face burns as you urgently roll down the window - partly out of necessity, and partly because you really wanted to see him better. Those snowy white locks, and- shit was that a dimple at the corner of the sly little smile curling his lips?
Twinkling gaze locked with yours, he rests an arm against the roof of the car - and you almost have to look away, your looming speeding ticket being the last thing on your mind at the way his arms flex so enticingly. Leaning down to smirk, “Ya have any idea how fast you were going, sweetheart?”
His voice was playful, and deep enough that it takes a second for you to find yours. Swallowing thickly, you bat your lashes innocently up at him, “Sorry, officer. I have no idea.” 
“Fast enough that’s for sure,” he huffs out a laugh, eyeing the way you squirm embarrassedly in your seat, “C’mon, license n’ registration, now.”
Fumbling through your glove compartment, heat rushes down your spine when his fingertips happen just brush against yours as you hand over the documents. While he looks them over, you take the moment to read his badge - Gojo. 
“Officer Gojo-”
“Satoru, m’not one for formalities.”
“Officer Satoru,” you press, words laced with just the right amount of flirtation. “I’m terribly sorry, I promise I didn’t know the speed limit.” And if it were any other moment then you’d be almost embarrassed at how you were fawning over him - but, well, one look at him and how could you resist?
“M’sure.” Not when he dips his head infinitely closer, hot breath fanning your face. Close - too close. And especially not when he mutters lowly, “Out.”
Which is how you found yourself strutting down the highway in a straight line, trying your very best not to tumble under the pressure of a looming Satoru.
“Keep walkin’.” And by God he was enjoying this a bit too much. Leaning against your car, arms crossed, and watching your every move. Stare so intense that a stupid little part of you couldn’t help but wonder whether his eyes lingered on you a bit too long to check for signs of drunkenness or something else. 
“Well,” Satoru’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, whirling around to catch him sweeping you one last time from head to toe. “Seems you’re not under the influence.” And you’ve barely let a smug smile make its way onto your face before he’s plowing on, “But m’still gonna have to write you up for speeding.”
“Oh come on.” you drag out, slightly whiny yet not desperate - at least, not yet. Leaning ever-so-slightly closer to him, making sure that the tight top you wore lets him see a perfect view of your breasts. “I really didn’t know.”
Eyes flickering down. Once. Twice. 
Success. 
But Satoru only raises his brows, muscles rippling as he crosses his arms over his chest. And by the twinkle of amusement in his gaze, you knew the smug bastard was doing this on purpose. “There are consequences for breaking the law, y’know~ Even for pretty lil’ things like you.”
Inching forward, “Can’t I just be let off with a warning, please?”
“And what makes you think you deserve one?”
Something hot, and prickly coils in your stomach at his tone. “Oh I dunno…” you trail off, so close now that there was only a hair’s breadth between your two. You could feel the heat of his body at this proximity, and it was making your head spin. “I’m sure I can convince you I do.”
Satoru huffs out a laugh, grinning, “Not me, pretty girl.” And you’ve barely registered the words before the police car door slams again, and he’s nodding his head somewhere behind you. “He’s the one that’ll be writing your ticket.”
Oh? Oh, shit. 
Heart stopping, you whirl around to meet a matching, sly little smirk. “Meet, Toji, sweetheart. My patrol partner, of sorts.”
And in the dim lighting, you could make out how unfairly handsome he was. A bit older, uniform hugging him so sinfully tight - all dark hair and rugged, dangerous authority as he skims over your license. “Your superior.” the rough baritone of the newcomer’s voice sent shocks right down to your core. 
“Semantics.”
“What’ve we got here?” Toji asks, tilting his head, unabashedly drinking in the sight of you just as his colleague did. “Skipping out on your duties again, brat?”
“Of course not. Just that this one,” Satoru starts. And your skin burns at the way he addresses you, words dripping with a mean little tone as if you were nothing but a plaything, “Says she didn’t know the speed limit, and wants to get off easy.”
“‘Get off easy’, huh?” Toji hums thoughtfully. “Don’t know if we can do that, doll.”
“Mhm, the old man’s right for once. Can’t put our jobs at risk, y’know?”
But oh you’d never be fooled by their little act, you catch the way their eyes meet, a silent understanding stirring between the two. You bite your lips coyly, holding back a smirk as you unhurriedly reach out to pull Toji in by his collar. His knee between your legs, your back falling against Satoru’s front, strong arms steadying you by the shoulders. “Are you sure?”
You could feel his heartbeat quickening, as was the latter’s, toned chest rumbling at the way his partner grits out a hoarse, “Positive.” Shit, they make it so easy. 
Sandwiched between both men now, you whisper - low enough that they have to strain their heads closer to hear, “But I promise I’ll be a good girl, officers.”
Toji’s lips are on you before you know it - so hot and just as messy as you thought the man would be. One hand around your throat, squeezing lightly as he licks at the seam of your mouth. Such a desperate clash of lips and saliva as he bullies his tongue inside to intertwine with yours.
He tastes almost minty, with the slight taste of something so intoxicating that you don’t even realize you’re pushing down on Satoru, grinding in mindless little motions. At least, not until he’s gripping tightly at your hips, shifting your ass ever-so-slightly to graze against his swollen cock. 
That makes you gasp and pull apart, tiny strings of saliva snapping as you look behind at Satoru. Feeling him, so big, so hot behind you - even through his uniform. 
“Is that-”
“Shh, focus on what you’re doing, pretty girl.” he chuckles darkly. Breath ghosting your ear as a hand comes up to squish your cheeks together, forcing you to face forward. “Wouldn’t wanna make my dear supervisor here mad, huh?”
And it takes everything in you to take your mind off of how massive Satoru felt underneath you. Damp, and throbbing behind you, a wet little patch right where his angry tip was. 
The only thing that actually snaps you out of your little reverie is Toji’s voice, husky, and dangerously sweet. “I gotta say, m’feeling left out.” he sighs mockingly, fingers tightening around your throat. “And after I’m the one supposed to be writing you up? How rude.” 
You meet his eyes, half-lidded and looking at you hungrily. He liked this - seeing you all breathless and needy, so eager to please.
“M-m’sorry-” you squirm in their iron grasp.
“Now now, ‘sorry’ won’t always cut it.” Toji gives a soft, playful little smack to your ass, before addressing the other man. “Whaddaya say we do about that, brat?” 
You look up at Satoru pleadingly, only to be met with a dark chuckle. Shit, if anything, you thought that he would be the nicer of the two - but that stupid little illusion falls apart with every word that falls from his lips. And oh how he enjoyed watching your slow, dawning realization that no you weren’t going to get mercy from either of them. “Guess we should teach her some manners, huh?”
“I dunno…I don’t think her slutty lil’ pussy will learn, though.”
That felt like a slap to the face - one that had your dripping cunt quivering in- fear? Anticipation? You really couldn’t give a fuck right now, not when they’re talking over you like you’re some object. Not when Toji’s shoving his knee deeper in-between your thighs, rocking your hips lightly. You whine, “P-please. I want to.”
“Want to what? C’mon now, use your words like a big girl.” It’s Satoru now, teasing you as you hesitate in giving into what you really want. 
Your voice cracks pathetically, at the embarrassing admission. Being stuck between these two men way too much for you to handle. “I want…” 
“Say it, sweetheart.”
“Wan’ to be fucked by you both. Have you teach me some m-manners.”
And then it happens. 
Your back hits the cushion before you even realize what’s happening, sinking into your car backseat as the two officers shut the door behind you. Satoru sits on one side, while Toji pushes down the front seats on the other. Cramped, heady - and exactly where you wanted to be right now. 
Shit, when did they even open the car door? You don’t have half the mind to wonder, because neither of them waste any time. Immediately groping your tits - your waist - your thighs, everywhere and anywhere they could reach. 
Satoru’s kissing you now - drinking you in like you were his favorite taste. And you just think he might be yours, so sweet, like those cheap lollipops you saw at convenience stores. Drinking in your breathless gasps as Toji begins unbuttoning your top, letting it fall to God-knows-where and-
“Fuuuck.” he lets out a low whistle, “Kid, look at this.”
With an almost-pained grunt, Satoru’s pulling away. Eyes widening as he takes in the sight of you - braless, and exposed so shamefully for the both of them, of course. “No bra?” he mutters raspily. “Always knew you were a lil’ slut, doll.” But you knew by the way his breath hitches that he liked it. 
And Toji did too, if the way his fingers danced along your hardened nipples was anything to go by. “What did I tell you? Bet she’s got such a naughty pussy, too.”
Your head is spinning, both from his words and the way Satoru’s claiming your lips once again. Murmuring into your mouth, “Only one way to find out.”
And that’s all that is said before they’re all but ripping your skirt off your hips. The poor, flimsy fabric nothing against the two men that were now looking at your drenched panties in pure awe. 
In fact, Toji drops to his knees onto the car interior, face to face with your pretty pussy. Greedily drinking in the way your slick beads out so sloppily,  the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. Gaze heated enough that you’re embarrassed. 
“Ah ah-” Satoru tuts, seeing the way your bare thighs were trying to close - not letting yourself have even some semblance of dignity. “You said you’d be a good girl f’us, isn’t that right, old man?”
“Mhm, s’what she said.”
Shit, you can do nothing but have your legs wrestled open, Satoru’s fingers sliding so delicately underneath your panties. “You heard him, pretty.” Index sliding up and down, up and down up and- grazing your swollen folds, all the way from your base, stopping just below your throbbing clit. Tease. “So why don’t we let officer Toji here get a good look at how wet your pretty lil’ cunt is?”
Neither man waits for your answer - of course, they don’t.
Rip! 
Several things happen at once, you barely have the time to react before Satoru’s holding your panties in his fist, tattered and soaked with your slick. Your mouth drops open in disbelief as he dangles it like a badge of honor, holding it up, up, up, only to breathe in your scent obscenely. “Fuck, you even smell like the perfect angel.”
Toji - taking the opportunity - dives face-first into your pussy. Groaning at the taste - you were so sweet, so addictive on his tongue. Licking lazily up your swollen folds, letting your sweet sweet juices get all over his face as he buries himself nose-deep. 
“Oh!” you gasp, fisting his locks in your hands, “Shit shit shit-” Toji was in eating you out, exactly as he was with kissing - sloppy. Unabashed. Letting his tongue move so messily all over your cunt, while his colleague held you still. Letting him devour you as he pleased. 
“Shhh, don’t worry, sweetheart.” Satoru whispers into your ear, every cute lil’ whine of yours going straight to his painfully hard cock. 
And, well, Satoru can’t just sit here and watch Toji have you all to himself, now. Can he? Which is why he begins playing with your sensitive nipples. Twirling his hot tongue around one, rolling the other between his fingers.
Drunk off your moans and the way you’re so overstimulated by both men. Unable to decide between where your body wants to focus on - grinding down on Toji’s relentless mouth or leaning towards Satoru’s. And it’s driving you mad. 
“Hngh- fuck- Feel’s good.” you whine, bucking your hips wildly.
“Yeah? Ya like this?” Toji speaks first, words muffled around your clit. Sucking and rolling his tongue harshly across it. Over and over. Strangely in time with the quick, maddening little circles that Satoru licks around your nipples. 
Being ruined like this from both ends was way too much - so you can only nod deliriously. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. Letting Toji throw your legs over his shoulders, looking so fucking gorgeous in-between your legs like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Brows furrowing in bliss as he tilts his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Shit.” Lapping even faster at your pussy. “Could get used to this.”
And let it be known that Gojo Satoru was a jealous man, because he pulls away from your tits with a lewd pop! Grunting sulkily, “Move over. Wan’ taste her cute pussy, too.”
Either Toji doesn’t hear him over the lewd little squelches coming from down below, or he ignores it - probably the latter. Continuing to make out with your cunt so messily. 
But Satoru was nothing if not persistent, snaking down a hand to gather your slick on his fingertips. Immediately shoving them in his mouth and oh- You watch blearily as his eyes roll to the back of his head, sucking his fingers clean like a man possessed. 
“Oh- fuck.” his mouth drops into a soft oh! Leaning forward like he wanted to kiss you senseless, only to halt and shuffle off the carseat. Because he wanted to make out with your cunt more. Dropping to the ground beside Toji, Satoru gives him a minute shove, “Move. M’not letting you be the only one to taste this heavenly pussy.”
“Hah- ya think you can eat her out the way she deserves, brat?” Licking at your inner thigh, “Lemme show you how a real man does it.”
“Watch and learn, old man.” Both men push your legs as far apart as they’d go, spreading you so shamefully for them. You reel from the stretch and the sinful sight below you. 
Because immediately, they’re making out hungrily with your cunt together. Sloppily and needy - tongues bumping into each other, intertwining, burying their faces between your legs as they eat you out like a little competition. Satoru’s licking up and down your slit, pooling your slick on his tongue, while Toji’s wrapping his pretty lips around your ravaged clit. 
“Sh-shit. Satoru- Toji. Ah! M’so close.” you squirm as they moan into your wet cunt, the vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running up your spine. Drinking in your little whimpers like they were addicted. 
“Like this?” Satoru groans. “Feels good being eaten out by the both of us?”
The car fills with your breathy moans, and it’s hard to speak with the way they’re alternating between flicking your clit and squeezing your tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you out, thrusting at a frenzied pace - you don’t even know who is who at this point. Just getting off with a needy, “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes- Feels s’good!”
“Like being our little whore, doll?”
Maybe it was Toji’s words - so filthy even when he was calling out to you sweetly. Or maybe it was the way Satoru was grinding his jaw as he plunges his soft tongue deeper into your plushy walls. Probably it was how they both looked at you - like you were their last meal. 
Because you’re cumming, and cumming so messily all over their mouths. “Shit. S’too much. Ah-”
And neither man stops - almost like it was difficult to part. Letting you drag your sloppy pussy incoherently all over while they continue to flick and dip their tongues. Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation.
“Heh, you’re gonna make her cry.” Satoru grins, as he finally parts. Your slick glossing so prettily all over the bottom half of his face - and his partner wasn’t any better. Rising from in-between your thighs looking very decidedly not sorry for eating you out till you cry. 
You watch, speechless, as Toji swipes a thumb over his lips, watching in wonder the way it becomes sticky with your juices. “Could get used to this all over m’face, right?”
“Mhm.” the other man hums, absentmindedly fumbling with his shirt. Revealing smooth, milky skin - he was so deliciously sculpted, all toned muscled and a slutty waist that made your mouth water. Shit, he was a masterpiece. 
But Satoru - that impatient bastard - doesn’t even give you the time to admire the entirety of him before he’s unbuckling his belt. “Though I think she’d look better with something else.”
You gasp as he pulls down his pants, tugging just enough that his swollen cock springs out. Absolutely massive and such an angry red, weeping tip dripping all the way down his length. He was so long - the type of long that had you knowing that won’t be walking properly tomorrow. 
“How crude.” Toji titters, but shit how he loved the way you seemed so cockdrunk from the mere sight of Satoru’s dick. It almost made some tiny part of him jealous. 
“Whatever, dibs on her cunt,” Satoru grunts, one hand moving to toy so messily with your dripping entrance. Pointedly ignoring the heated glare thrown his way by Toji, and the way he begins rolling your clit between two fingers. Almost like a little standoff - with you stuck in the middle. 
Toji breaks first, “M’your superior, I should be the one to fuck her pretty pussy.”
“Aw come on.” the other man whines, and it would almost be comical if it wasn’t for the way his long fingers were massaging your hot core. “Think of it as a ah- learning experience. After all, who knows whether you’d hurt yourself trynna fuck her the way I can.”
“You mouthy little-”
“Now, pretty girl, let’s see if y’can walk the talk.”
And oh you should’ve known better than to think you’d be stuffed inside the backseat of a car with two police officers without them throwing you around like a rag doll. 
Immediately, Toji’s manhandling you, fingers digging into your waist as he pushes you on all fours. Lining his aching bulge right in front of your soppy mouth, saliva seeping into his pants. 
Well, there was no use wearing soiled clothing, right? You watch, cunt clenching in anticipation as he shoves down his pants in record speed. 
Oh, the universe was playing a joke on you - because Toji was just as big. If a bit thicker where Satoru was longer. Prominent veins glistening in the dim light, precum dripping all the way down to the maintained tufts of black at his base.
Shit, your eyes flit between the intimidatingly big cocks. One in front of you, grazing his fat tip across your lips, and the other positioned right over your sloppy entrance. You weren’t going to make it out alive. 
“Having second thoughts?” Toji scoffs, edging his hips closer. Greedily taking in how fucking pretty you looked with his precum glossing your mouth, messy and dripping down to your chin. “Wan’ tap out?”
You barely even have to your head “no” - because Satoru’s answering for you. Spreading your pussy lips with his thumb, taking one, long look before chuckling, “Course not. Y’should see the way her needy cunt is sucking my thumb up.”
“Well then. Guess we’ll get to the real fun.”
With that, Toji’s stuffing himself into your mouth. A low hiss leaving the back of his throat as you take him so well, lips bulging around his thick cock. Tonguing at the sensitive slit in a way that makes him lose his mind. 
Not even giving your a proper warning as he pushes in inch by fucking inch, watching you choke and gag around him. Not stopping till he’s got your nose pressed all the way against his toned pelvis. “Shit, relax yer throat. Fuck, ah- just like that, doll.”
And if you thought he was mean then you weren’t prepared for Satoru at all - not with the way he was immediately squeezing his thick head into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your heavenly walls can’t decide between pushing him out or milking the fucking soul out of him. 
“S’tight, fuckin’ love this pussy.” Satoru gasps, jaw clenched, trying not to just fuck recklessly into your cunt until you’re drunk on his cock. But God is it difficult to keep his sanity when all he gets in response from you is a choked, wet gurgles. Body bowing into both of theirs as you desperately try to relax both your throat and your cunt. 
“Gonna stand around waitin’ or am I gonna have to ruin her pretty pussy for you?” Toji taunts, voice strained as he begins thrusting in quick, harsh strokes into your hot mouth. “Talked big, huh, kid?”
“Fuck off.”
And Satoru’s never one to lag behind. After all, he did graduate at the top of his batch at the academy - he can’t lose face in front of you or his annoying superior either. 
So he tightens his grip on your hips, hard enough that he’s pretty sure it bruises. Pushing down on your spine to arch your back deeper onto his cock.  “I dunno.” he drawls, “What do you think, sweetheart? Want me to fuck into this tight lil’ pussy? Ruin you on my cock?” 
Of course, the only response he gets is a low, wet moan. Luckily, both men understand it as a loud, resounding “yes”. 
“Awww, look at her- hah- Cock-drunk little slut can’t even speak.” It’s the last thing that spills out of Satoru’s mouth before he’s pushing past that tight ring of resistance. No care or concern for your poor pussy because shit his thoughts were too mangled with how heavenly you felt around him. 
“You got this, pretty.” he whispers, fucking into you in small, shallow little thrusts just to fit himself inside you. “Take me all like the good girl you are.”
And oh were you such a good girl for him - Satoru thinks he could almost cum on the spot as he finally bottoms out. Sucking up his cock so fucking sinfully as his heavy balls smacking your ass, already so wet with your slick and his precum. 
“There ya are.” Toji hums, the image of you choking on his cock while you struggle to take Satoru’s making his head absolutely spin. He can’t stop himself from leaning down and kissing hotly down your spine, making you buck and gag deeper around his dick. In the haze of it all, he catches Satoru’s amused gaze. Spitting out, “What?”
“Softie.”
“Oh, shut up. You can’t even handle her pussy.”
And Satoru took that personally, because he’s reeling his hips back, back, back - all the way till his angry, weeping tip just kissed you sloppy holes. “M’gonna show you, softie.” Body moving before his mind, he starts fucking into your pretty cunt recklessly. Hands groping all over your body possessively, hips moving in rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and the urge to ruin you. Over and over-
Toji only smiles at the little show, your garbled whines every time Satoru hits your poor cervix going straight to his cock - quite literally. And if he angled his head just right, he could see the way your cute cunt was stretching obscenely. Barely-lucidly, he wonders whether your throat would bulge around his just as much. 
He taps your cheek, signaling you to blink those pretty eyes so tearily up at him. Balls squeezing painfully, he really can’t help but pump his cock into you faster, matching Satoru’s merciless cadence - ruining you from both sloppy holes. “Sorry, doll. Gotta big ego, so we can’t be outdone, now, can we?”
And then it’s like something snaps because suddenly every movement becomes sloppier, more erratic. Toji’s got a hand around your throat, feeling each thrust as he ruins your gorgeous face. Abs flexing each time he drags your lips on his cock up and down up and down up and- like some toy.
Satoru wasn’t any nicer either - becoming so fucking messy as he fucks you from behind like he was claiming his win. Faster, sloppier. 
Biting his lip at the way your ass jiggles each time his hips snap into yours. Pulling you back by the hair to bounce you like some little slut from both ends. And, maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have said something about the way they were using you like their favorite fucktoy - but right now you were so close. Dangerously close. It was too much. 
And they probably feel it because suddenly Toji’s leaning down, murmuring hotly against your ear, “S- fuck. Ngh- Close?”
“Fuck, I can feel it too.” Satoru voices from behind, so hoarse with desire, “Suckin’ me up so hah- t-tight it’s almost hard to fuck her.” It’s his cue to reach down deftly and start toying with your ravaged clit, still so sensitive and sore from before. Drawing erratic little circles on it, pinching with his fingers. 
You’re letting out throaty, muffled moans of their names, making Toji’s hips stutter. Holding you still as his aching balls smack your ass. “Hngh- shit. Keep doin’ that, brat, this one here loves it.” 
“What did I tell ya? S’like this pussy’s made f’me.”
And if they couldn’t feel it then they certainly could see it. They could see the way you were getting messier, pussy dripping all over the carseat now. Mascara running down your face, saliva and precum trailing down your chin. Honestly, it was fucking hard to look at you without cumming right there, too. Because you looked completely and utterly fucked out. So close that it was almost painful. 
Maybe that’s why both men speed up their pace impossibly, no reason or rhyme. You feel a wolfish bite on your exposed neck - Satoru - fingers frenzied on your clit, thrusts stemming from such a carnal, depraved part of him. Falling out of sync with Toji as they get so sloppy with the goal to get you off - and get you off so hard that you can’t think about anything but them, them, them-
“Cum, doll.”
This orgasm is more obscene than the last. Far more. Because you honestly don’t even realize you’re cumming, not until you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and feeling Satoru and Toji slamming harshly into you. Once. Twice. Before spilling into you in unison. 
And it’s so much that you don’t even know if you can take it. 
Toji’s salty on your tongue, pumping thick, hot ropes of tongue into your mouth. Pulling out purposefully like the smug bastard he is to see his seed all messy and dribbling down your face. While Satoru’s much the opposite, keeping his twitching cock stuffed into your tight pussy while he paints your walls white. Not letting you waste a single drop.
But oh he didn’t mind when you finally pull yourself off of Toji’s dick. Cum smearing so sloppily all over your face, and shit he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked prettier. 
And Satoru really doesn’t mind when you look back and pull him into a kiss - Toji, too. If you can even call it that, a messy clash of teeth and tongue and cum. So much of it. Swirling and sucking on your tongue, bumping into each other. Just pure fucking filth. 
It gets Satoru’s dick so hard and throbbing all over again at how obscene it all was. Some weird little part of him is almost disappointed as Toji breaks the kiss - but not for long. Because his superior shifts, splaying himself out beneath you, while he pulls your limp body on top. 
Ah. Great minds really do think alike, he thinks as Toji drags his tip lazily all over your cunt. Pooling your juices on his fat head, grazing your poor, abused clit to where your sloppy pussy was quivering and still stuffed full of Satoru’s cock. Well, not like you didn’t have room for one more. Right?
It’s all you can do to babble deliriously, “W-wha-”
“Shhh, doll. We’ll take care of it.”
“After all, sweetheart, you did say you’d be our good girl…”
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A/N. This got taken down the first time I posted it LMAO. 
Plagiarism not authorized.
6K notes · View notes
saetoru · 1 year ago
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RATE MY PROFESSOR! — GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU.
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kinktober day one — threesomes ; find masterlist here
synopsis. you’re professor gojo’s TA—the catch? you both are romantically involved. what do you do when professor geto happens to accidentally walk in on you giving a blowjob? let him fuck you so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t tell a soul, of course
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length. 5.1k words (deep, big, heavy sigh)
contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, college au, teacher-student relationships, prof! satoru + suguru, TA! reader, power imbalance, age gaps (reader is early twenties and satoru + suguru are early thirties), semi public sex (at campus in satoru’s office), suguru walking in on you and satoru, threesomes, fingering + blowjobs + hair pulling + throat fucking + cum swallowing (satoru), male masturbation + edging (suguru), unprotected sex + (one) clit slap + creampie (suguru), pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel, princess, pretty girl, good girl), not proof read—i am a raw dog kinda gal
notes. i would highly discourage having intimate relations with a professor—but….if your professor looks like gojo or geto, i’m blind babe. i ain’t see nothing. i won’t tell a soul
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“you guys wanna get lunch?” nobara hums, “we’re all here.”
megumi, as always, looks like he’s about to say no—he probably wants to go home as quickly as possible. but that’s not an option because before he can, yuji has already piped up with an enthusiastic, “yeah! i’m down.”
you fiddle your fingers nervously—how are you supposed to get out of this one? you’d just used the excuse of grading assignments for satoru yesterday, and surely you couldn’t possibly have a fresh pile of them to grade again within twenty-four hours, right? it’d be a suspicious excuse, especially one for nobara, who seems to sniff out a lie a little too easily. 
it’s not that you don’t want to hang out with your friends, you love them. really. but you promised you’d be in satoru’s office in fifteen minutes—and you’re not about to keep him waiting, so lunch will have to wait for another time.
you’re still thinking of a usable excuse when she turns to you herself, unimpressed as she dryly says, “i assume you have some midterm review to help him polish or something,” she grumbles, “gojo is so lazy,” she scoffs.
oh—well, that wasn’t very hard. she’s just made it ten times easier for you. nobara has handed you the perfect excuse right in the palm of your hand, and before you can even play it off casually, yuji cuts in and distracts her. bless yuji, you think to yourself.
“hey, professor gojo is a great guy! we all passed with an A! isn’t that great?”
“everyone gets an A in his class, dumbass,” megumi grunts, rolling his eyes, “not getting an A in his class practically means you’re deliberately trying to do poorly.”
on campus, professor gojo is a fan favorite—his rate my professor score is a perfect five stars, and most of the students around campus rave about him. why? because he gives out the letter grade A+ like it’s candy. anyone would love a professor like that. 
he doesn’t ever take attendance or knock your grade down when you skip class, his assignments are always easy to google answers to, and the quizzes have unlimited time and attempts. his tests are straightforward enough that even if you never pay attention, doing the review he uploads is sure to help you cram enough to pass. and what’s better? he always adds a generous curve. not only that, but professor gojo is a friendly guy—he loves talking to his students, loves to ramble away if you stop him in the halls or visit during office hours, loves to listen to your stories and nod along in interest, loves to crack jokes and have a good laugh.
everyone loves professor gojo. and when they leave his class with an A+, they love him even more. 
you had an A+ in physics yourself when you took his class—and you hate physics. you hated it in high school, and you hate it now. but for gojo satoru? you’re almost a physics enthusiast. professor gojo—or rather, satoru, as you call him now, takes a liking to you. a very…strong liking, if you will. 
it all starts on a fateful monday afternoon two semesters ago—it’s one thirty pm, the busiest hour on campus. sometimes, it feels like everyone takes classes at one pm—and as such, getting a table in the university coffee shop is almost impossible. you’re just about to give up and leave with your coffee and sandwich after scanning the place when a wave of a hand catches your attention. 
it’s professor gojo. 
need a seat? he asks you, gesturing at the chair in front of him at his table—it’s a smooth, amused little drawl, the way he talks. it’s almost always a borderline teasing tone, and his voice is low enough that it sounds oddly enticing. you’ve heard enough girls lust over his voice in class to know you’re not the only one who sometimes appreciates the sound. 
you try to insist that you wouldn’t want to intrude, but professor gojo is a nice guy; always looks out for his students and helps them out. so, when he insists that he doesn’t mind you taking the spare seat as he grades a few assignments, well…you decide to sheepishly thank him and sit across from him, finally having somewhere to sit and eat before you’re off to your next class. 
and then it begins.
every now and then, you sit across from your physics professor in the crowded coffee shop on campus as you enjoy a cold brew and a sandwich before your next class. somehow, he always manages to snatch a table, and somehow, you always manage to find him. you like to ramble to him sometimes—how professor nanami is a bit too strict for your liking (he giggles at that), how professor ieri always seems too tired and miserable to be here (he nods and agrees), and how professor geto is nice, but he takes literature pretty seriously (he gives you an amused look at that as he hums.)
somewhere along the line, he asks you to be his TA for the following semester—and somewhere further along that line…well, perhaps the one-on-one talks as you sit together at a table for two felt a little too close to something of a romantic setting because you and professor gojo kiss in his office while he calls you in to explain your TA responsibilities. 
that was never supposed to happen. 
you don’t even remember who leaned in first, or whose arms were the first to wrap around the other, or who tugged who closer, but you both kiss. and then some. and then it happens again, and again, and again—and, well…you’re professor gojo’s, or better yet, satoru’s best kept secret.
you go to his office to grade assignments for him—in between if he steals a few kisses, who’s to know? sometimes, he’s a bit riskier, likes to spread his legs and free his cock and have your hand stroke him as he eyes the door. it’s always a nice view to watch him unbutton a few buttons of his shirt and bite back moans. other days, he likes to slip his hand past your waistband and toy with your clit—the amused glint in his eyes, as he tells you not to get distracted and keep grading when you gasp always, earns him a sharp glare.
it’s like that for the semester, just you and him in his little office where you can break the rules in the safety of secrecy. 
that is, until now. 
admittedly, this isn’t the best time to be doing this—professor geto likes to have lunch with satoru around this time, and you know you’re cutting it close…but he just looks so pretty like this, head fallen back against his chair as his lips part with a soft gasp.
you’re on your knees, looking up as you suck on the tip of his stiff cock before taking him down your throat, bobbing your head up and down. it’s a rewarding position to be in—to have the hot, loved, campus favorite professor that everyone thirsts over falling apart in your mouth, hands gripping the arms of his chair as he pants harshly above you.
he looks pretty—always does, always looks good enough that you can feel the ache between your legs get worse. the messy strands of his hair stick to his damp forehead, and his lips are always so pink and plump when he bites them like that, and who can forget the way his eyes turn just a shade darker of that bright blue?
you hum around him, making him groan as he mumbles, “f-fuck, you’re so good, sweetheart—always know how to make me feel good.”
you press a kiss to his tip, smearing the bead of pre cum leaking from his slit along your lips before licking them clean—he closes his eyes and groans at that. you can’t help but giggle, can’t help but press more kisses along his hardened length until you’re at the base of his cock. 
“pretty little lips,” he hums, reaching to rub his thumb over your bottom lip as you open your mouth, letting him slip into your mouth—he hums approvingly as your tongue swirls around the digit, sucking slowly. “‘s like you were made for taking me, huh?”
“‘course i was,” you grin cheekily—and then you’re back to sucking on his cock, tongue rubbing over that thick vein you love to trace and reaching a hand to play with his balls. he moans—it’s low but still whiny enough that you can’t help but feel so proud at how needy he is, how desperately he always wants you. no matter the risk.
except the risk is probably not the wisest one to test today because just as satoru lets out a particularly loud whine when you swallow around him, the door clicks open and…
oh. 
oh no. 
this…this isn’t good—this is terrible, in fact. this is the worst possible outcome to the worst possible thing you’ve done, and now you’re screwed. entirely destroyed, in fact—the both of you. here goes your admission and your progress on your degree, and here goes satoru’s entire career and everything he’s worked for, and all because you couldn’t help but give him a blowjob in the middle of his office with the door unlocked where his best friend can walk right in and get a full view.
and worse? this best friend of his happens to be another professor on campus who you happen to have had just last semester. you’re sure he knows you; you’re his former student, after all, and he must certainly know his best friend’s TA. 
professor geto blinks—his eyes go back and forth between you and satoru and the still-hard cock between his legs that’s glistening with your spit as you sit on your knees. yeah—there’s no explaining this one.
“well,” he says blankly, “i guess that’s on me for not knocking, huh?”
“suguru,” satoru grumbles, “some of us are busy y’know? can’t you come back later?”
you turn to satoru in shock—how can he be so normal about this? how can he just casually act like this is some random hook-up his friend walked in on instead of a (very illegal and very unprofessional) teacher-student relationship that could get the two of you in more trouble than you can comprehend? 
but professor geto doesn’t seem even the slightest bit concerned. there’s no look of disgust or panic or even anger at you and satoru for your unprofessional habits. there’s no alarm at the distasteful activities you’re doing in the middle of a university office where anyone could potentially walk in on. and then there’s satoru—he doesn’t even bother making himself decent or pulling you from your knees.
no, instead, he looks at professor geto in slight irritation as the latter stands there. 
“so this is what you’re always busy doing in your office, huh?” professor geto hums, chuckling in amusement, “i have to say, you at least have good taste, satoru. she’s excellent in and outside the classroom, it seems.”
“yeah, she’s a keeper,” satoru hums, cupping your cheek as he grins down at you, “now if you don’t mind, suguru, we’re in the middle of something.”
“and what do you plan on doing if this gets around?” professor geto raises a brow, unimpressed.
you look at him in panic at that—surely…surely he can’t mean that he would be the one to spread this around, right? surely he wouldn’t throw his best friend under the bus, correct? if not for you, then for satoru’s sake, he’d never let this information find another soul. otherwise…otherwise you’ll both lose everything. all the hard work and progress you’ve made, all of satoru’s experience and years building his career, and all the future opportunities you had coming up—all of it will be for nothing if professor geto says one word. 
people wouldn’t have a hard time believing it either, you think. sometimes your own friends like to poke fun at you themselves. 
you’re always with him, are you sure you’re not in love with the guy at this point? nobara always likes to snort at you.
why does professor gojo even keep you around? you’re too lazy—you must give good head, megumi tends to tease as he raises a brow with amused eyes.
with how often you’re in professor gojo’s room, you might as well have a crush on him, yuji sometimes giggles.
surely, with how often you’re seen in the coffee shop with him as he grades papers and how often he likes to tease you when you show up to his classroom sometimes to drop off papers, students would certainly take the rumors and spread them like wildfire if professor geto says even the littlest thing. 
you look at him with wobbly lips as you whisper, “please don’t tell anyone,” you sniffle, “i…maybe there’s something we can do…to keep you from…”
the two of them look at you in shock—they stare at you for a moment, stare at the crystalline tears welling up in your eyes, at the soft little tremor in your lips, at the sweet little sniffles you try to hide. then, as if in sync, their eyes meet each other’s before finding you once more.
“oh, that’s precious,” professor geto chuckles, “she really is a keeper, satoru—she even looks pretty when she cries. i’m almost jealous.”
“don’t look for too long, suguru,” satoru grumbles—and then, “listen, sweetheart, you don’t have to worry. suguru’s not gonna—”
“well, if there is something you’d wanna do for me,” professor geto cuts satoru off, his voice a low drawl as he walks closer, hand cupping your jaw as he tilts your face up, “i suppose i can keep my mouth shut.”
“anything,” you nod quickly.
you’re so eager to please, he thinks—so perfect and sweet and pliant, that suguru thinks he might actually really be jealous that somehow, it was satoru who caught your attention. how did this all start? when did it start? how long has it been going on? do you have real feelings for each other? or is it just a pleasurable business kind of deal? do you meet up outside of campus? does he take you to the next town over to freely walk around with you on dates? do you kiss sweetly sometimes instead of with hunger? have you ever spent a night in his bed? do you sleep better beside each other, wrapped in the other’s arms?
there are so many, many questions suguru wants to ask. the potential answers to all of them make him a bit more unhappy than he cares to admit. something in him wonders how things might’ve had to play out in order to land you in his office instead—but…but if you’re offering anything, why not take advantage of the offer?
“anything?” he asks, looking at you amused, “you know, princess, anything is a dangerous offer. what if i asked to join? what if i asked to fuck you here in this office so your secret is safe?”
you blink up at him for a moment at his words—they’re a bit shocking. professor geto…doesn’t think this is wrong? clearly, he doesn’t if he’s willing to take part. but that doesn’t sound half bad. not even in the slightest. 
they’re a popular pair: professor gojo and geto are all people on campus ever talk about. those two professors who happen to be best friends. they’re not much older than you either—can’t be past their early thirties, even if they don’t look a day over twenty. 
did you know they used to go to college together? i heard they’ve known each other since high school. apparently, they applied to work here together and only took the offer up once the other agreed. it’s all people ever gossip about when they mention them both. it’s always about how close they are, how deep their bond is, how there is never one without the other. and then, of course, there are those…the less than appropriate comments you occasionally hear the other girls make. i bet professor gojo gives the best head—he’s always sucking on some lollipop. i’d let professor geto do nasty things to me while i read his literature books out loud to him—he’s too fine. i can take both of them—and i don’t mean their classes. 
it’s…not exactly a bad offer that he gives you, you think to yourself. it’s an enticing one, in fact. you get to have them both—professor geto isn’t any less attractive than satoru and…and well, you’d really like for him to keep this a secret, so it’s a bit of a win-win. plus, you’re sure he wouldn’t risk spilling such delicate information when it would put his career at risk, too—it seems like the perfect leverage.
you look at your old literature professor with a nod as you murmur, “then i’d say you should make sure to lock the door this time—we don’t want to make the same mistake twice, do we?”
his eyes sparkle in amusement at that, a low chuckle falling from his pretty lips as he shakes his head at you—you’re even better than he expected. satoru is so, so lucky he’s got to have you to himself all this time. it’s criminally unfair. 
“hey,” satoru pouts from behind, still sitting in his chair and still painfully hard as his throbbing cock sits between his legs unattended. “you both are forgetting about me,” he whines.
professor geto—or rather, suguru, you suppose, only looks at his best friend in amusement. “now, satoru—what have i always told you about sharing? here—” he walks over and pulls satoru to stand before taking the seat himself and patting his thigh as he looks at you with a sly grin, “why don’t i get to feel your pussy, and satoru can have your mouth like before? then we both get what we want.”
“bossy as ever, suguru,” satoru chuckles, but there’s something in his eyes—something darker and more excited than you’ve ever seen them.
“get her ready for me,” suguru hums, fingers making quick work to unbuckle his belt and free his hardened cock. you can’t help but stare, can’t help but watch as he wraps his fist around his hardened length and runs his thumb through his slit with a low moan. 
he’s not as long, but he’s thicker than satoru—you can easily tell he won’t be any easier to take. you watch attentively as he traces the thick vein along the side of his cock with this thumb as he strokes upward, rolling around his tip before stroking down and squeezing at the base. you watch his lips tug between his teeth, a soft moan ripping from his throat as he touches himself in the way he likes best.
you’ll remember what he likes, you think—you can sense this might not be your first and last opportunity to see suguru like this. and next time? well, next time, it’ll be your hand touching his cock and pulling those pretty little sighs and groans from him instead of his own.
“eyes on me, sweetheart,” satoru hums, pulling you to stand before gently guiding your back to fall against his desk, fingers looping into your waistband and pulling your pants down your legs. you can hear the sharp inhale suguru takes as soon as the wetness of your folds is on display, as soon as your puffy clit and dripping pussy are there for him to see so clearly. “watch carefully, suguru,” satoru grins, “she’s pretty when she cums.”
“i can imagine,�� suguru muses, “alright then. show me.”
instantly, satoru’s fingers are intruding into your cunt—it’s familiar, the sensation of his digits bullying past your folds and curling against your sweet spot. he’s already knuckles deep, already pressing the tips of his fingers into the back of your walls as far as they’ll go, spreading you open and scissoring you apart. it feels good—it always does, and when his palm rolls across your clit? you can’t help but let out a whiny moan that earns a groan from suguru as he fists his cock tighter. 
“god, she even sounds so pretty,” he pants, watching as satoru’s fingers slip in and out of your pretty cunt, at the way it all but sucks them in itself as it flutters around him. everything about you is perfect—but your face is by far suguru’s favorite. the way it twists with pleasure as satoru slams his fingers against your spot mercilessly with every thrust of his wrist has him fighting off his orgasm—his fist slowing down to a teasing edge as he grunts at the way he lets his pleasure die down for the sake of really feeling you. 
“that feel good, angel?” satoru asks, grinning down at you. 
you nod quickly, head thrown back against the wooden desk as you stutter, “y-yes…s-so good, toru.”
“toru?” suguru asks, “do i get a nickname too? make sure you come up with one for me, yeah?”
it’s almost like you don’t hear him, too busy on the way satoru drags along your walls with every time his fingers sink into you. “toru, toru—s-slow down, ‘m g-gonna…”
“slow down?” satoru gasps—his pace only quickens at that as he gives you a mocking pout, “you want me to slow down, sweetheart? you never ask me to slow down, it’s always faster, toru. faster, please! from you. you don’t wanna give suguru the wrong idea, do you? he’ll think i haven’t taught you how to take it like a good girl.”
suguru snorts at that, slowly dragging his hand up and down his sensitive cock—it’s red at the tip, flushed, and leaky enough that it’s easy to tell he’s aching for release.
“hurry up, satoru,” he grits, biting his lip as he fights back another orgasm and stills his hand, keeping it tightened around the base of his length, “we haven’t got all day.”
“can’t rush making my pretty girl cum, suguru,” satoru gasps, “she deserves the best. look at this pussy—” he gives pulls his fingers out to give your clit attention, rubbing your slick over the sensitive bud as you gasp, writhing over his desk, “—see how perfect it is? you gotta treat it like that too.”
as if from his words alone, as if you get off on the way satoru praises your cunt to his best friend who watches you get stuffed to the brim with his fingers, you whimper before cumming—your pussy fluttering around nothing, walls spasming and dripping with slick as he toys with your clit. 
“toru—toru, ‘m cumming…cumming—oh,” you babble, thighs quivering as his thumb doesn’t let up from your abused clit, watching as your hand reaches for his wrist weakly to halt his movements. “‘s too much,” you sniffle.
“too much?” suguru gasps, “how will you take me, then, princess? don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?”
“nah,” satoru grins, chuckling, “she’s got plenty left in her. she can take it.” with that, he hooks an arm under your waist and helps you sit up, leaning down to kiss you softly as you let out a muffled whine against his lips. “you’re ready for suguru, aren’t you, baby? prepped you nice and good to take him, didn’t i?”
you nod, mumbling a soft, “uh huh,” in agreement.
“that’s my good girl,” he coos, grinning as he presses a wet kiss to your forehead. 
suguru, patient as ever with a stiff, aching cock standing between his muscled thighs, holds an arm out for you as he murmurs, “c’mere then, princess. can’t back out of our deal yet, can you?” you walk over to him on wobbly legs, letting him pull you to sit on his lap, back flush against his chest as his hands guide your hips. he taps the head of his cock against your clit as he lines your entrance up with his length before pulling you to sit, slowly inching you down on him bit by bit as he gasps at the way you squeeze around him instantly. “h-holy—fuck, such a tight fuckin’ pussy. ‘s like i can barely even move,” he grunts, chin resting on your shoulder as he pants.
satoru walks over, staring down at you as you’re seated on suguru’s lap before cupping your cheek and rubbing over the soft skin with his thumb. “you can take both of us, right sweetheart? you’re just too good not to, aren’t ya?”
you nod eagerly, letting the tip of his cock tap against your lip, tongue moving to lick across his slit and make him groan. he’s painfully hard—cock swollen and neglected for so long, you almost forgot that he’s been waiting for your mouth to take him again after being interrupted. your jaw slacks as you let him thrust his hips and fuck his length into you, tip hitting the back of your throat as you choke around him. 
“fuck,” satoru hisses lowly, biting his lip as his hands grab your hair and keep you in place while he ruts into your mouth, “fuck, baby. never get tired of how good this mouth feels—takes me so fuckin’ well. jus’ love feelin’ me down your throat, huh?”
you can’t do anything but let out a muffled cry, feeling the fat tip of suguru’s cock nudge against your sweet spot—it’s just as effortless: the way he finds your most sensitive part. just as effortless as satoru. maybe that’s why they get along so well, maybe they’re connected in that way. 
“oh, princess,” suguru moans, panting against your ear as he lets out a breathy moan, “fuck, that’s good—so, good. can hardly move with the way you’re squeezing me. greedy little pussy, isn’t it?”
you whine as you feel his arm wrap around you, finger rolling over your puffy clit as his hips snap upwards and fuck into you, cock dragging along your walls and stretching you enough that you can hardly think straight. he’s big—it feels like he’s almost splitting you open with his girth as his hips roll up and sink him deeper into your cunt.
“she’s…she’s perfect,” suguru pants, “keepin’ this all to yourself? how selfish of you, satoru.”
“she’s mine,” satoru whines, cock pushing past your lips as he speaks, the way your tongue glides along his vein making his cheeks flush as his eyes flutter shut and his mouth falls open with a breathless moan. “she’s too good to share with you. you d-don’t deserve her.”
“yeah? and you do?” suguru chuckles—it sounds more like a labored pant, his breath harsh as he groans into your neck when you flutter particularly tightly around him, forehead falling to dig into your shoulder, “she’s suckin’ me in. think she wants me. don’t you, pretty girl? you want me to cum inside you, right? make you mine too?”
“y-yes,” you mewl, popping off satoru’s length as you whimper when suguru chuckles and gives your clit a light slap, back arching against him as he pushes his cock past your folds again, “yes, wan’ it. wan’ it so, so bad—need it.”
“see,” he raises a brow towards satoru, “knew it.”
you can see the way satoru’s cock twitches at that—at the way you fall apart on suguru’s lap as the latter digs his head into your shoulder as he breathes harshly, chasing his release desperately as he ruts into your slick pussy. you can see the way satoru’s tip is flushed a harsh red, leaking with pre cum as he aches to spill cum down your throat, so you let him push past your lips once more—but not before giving his tip a delicate kiss. 
“she’s my girl,” satoru grunts, “mine, mine, mine—knows how to make me cum. kn-knows how to take me so good, right baby?”
and as if to answer him, you suck around his tip, swallowing around his length and making him groan as his hips stutter and cum paints your throat white as it fills your mouth. you try to swallow every drop, try to take what he gives you as he fucks into you desperately and chases the pleasure of his high. thick, hot ropes of cum spill from the corners of your lips as satoru fucks his load into you, panting as his hips sloppily roll and work himself through his orgasm.
“that’s right, sweetheart,” he groans lowly, “take it, yeah? god—fuck, feels so good, baby. ‘m c-cumming.”
you make a sound between a choked whine and sharp gasp as suguru’s thumb rubs harshly against your swollen clit, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he groans, hips just as sloppy as satoru’s in his pace that it tells you he’s close too—and then he twitches into your pussy, cock burying into you once, twice, three more times before he groans too.
“gonna cum, princess? ‘cause ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum—fill you up and make you mine. you want that right? want me to—f-fuck, fuck ‘m close, so close,” he cuts himself off with a gasp, letting out a needy whine into your skin before spilling into you. you can feel hot, thick ropes of cum paint your walls as his tip nudges back into you and pushes his load as deep as he can.
and you fall apart too, coming undone a second time as your walls hug around him tightly, head falling back as you mewl a high pitched, “s-sugu—c-can’t…’s too much—”
“you can take it, pretty,” he hums, “know you can. you’re too precious not to, right?”
it’s messy—it’s downright filthy, in fact, the way his cum and your slick mix and drip along your inner thighs, making a mess on satoru’s chair. you pant as your pussy pulses around him before coming down from your high, falling slack in his arms against his chest as he chuckles and presses a kiss to your jaw. 
“fuck,” he breathes, “you’re something else. who’d have thought my favorite little student from a previous semester could do all that?”
“isn’t she a dime?” satoru chuckles proudly, reaching for the corner of your mouth with his thumb, collecting a stray drop of cum and pushing it back past your lips and onto your tongue, humming approvingly as you swallow. “precious, isn’t she?”
“of course,” suguru nods, with a grin, leaning to peck your shoulder, “so, tell me. which professor would you take again?”
satoru purses his lips as he glares. “this isn’t rate my professor, suguru. and don’t get used to thi—”
“well,” you hum, interrupting as you bat your lashes sweetly at both of them, “why i can’t just take both of you again?”
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guess who’s posting their october first kinktober fic literally 40 mins before it’s october second ?? if it’s not procrastinated, it’s not reached its full potential
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theresascove · 22 days ago
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she can’t get enough ₊ ⊹
farmhand!ellie williams x f!reader
ellie fucks you senseless while your parents are downstairs
tw: SMUT, not proofread, smut no plot, strap (r receiving), ellie calls r miss once, r is the farmer’s daughter, modern farm!au, a bit of degradation, exhibition
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wc ✎ 702
Shes got a hand on your back, pressing you into your pillows to muffle the moans that slip from your lips. Soft “huhs” and “ah” and “mm” escaping you with each thrust. Minds a mess, fuzzy and far away as you melt under the weight of the pleasure your family’s farmhand was giving you.
She had you on all fours, but your arms had fallen out onto the bed—unable to support yourself any longer. The way you were moaning her name had her thighs glistening, but knowing your parents were just downstairs—she had to try and shut you up.
“With the way you’re moaning it’s like you want your parents to find out. Huh, miss?”
You can barely hear her, mind too focused on how she was splitting you open. The size almost pulling you back with her each thrust due to how tight you were. Nails dig into the sheets, another whine falling from you and into the same sheets when it hits that spot.
She’s neglected your clit this whole time, purely working you up from the smallest accidental brushes. It drove you crazy, to the point it had your wetness slide down the backs of your thighs. Each time Ellie pushed forward again, you’d grind against her—almost feeling like you’re in heat with how turned on you are.
“Fuck,” Ellie drawled on, looking down at your figure curving so you could take her better, “so needy.”
Her voice was nothing but a whisper, but it sounded so loud in your bedroom. Just nearby, you could hear your parent’s voices—floating up the stairs and finding its way into your room. The little light under your door, the only source of light really—still showed that the two of them were still chatting in the living room. It turned you on to no end realizing that they had no idea their daughter was getting pounded into the sheets just a flight of stairs away.
It was normal. Ellie slipping herself up and through your window to visit you at night, to make you writhe under her. This was the first time she came earlier though, also a first time that she would do such an act while her bosses were nearby. She couldn’t help herself though, you had teased her today—standing out front on the porch by your dad, eyeing her up in down. You saw the way her eyes changed, something only you could notice—and you turned your gaze away then, bringing your glass of tea closer to your lips.
Oh, and just to spill it on you with a feigned gasp—the liquid turning your white tank invisible. Your dad ushered you inside, but before you did you sent another look Ellie’s way. With her arms crossed, she dug her nails into her bicep and sighed. It was difficult to continue talking to your father as if you hadn’t just made her clench around nothing at the sight.
Now she finally had you where she wanted you, needy and pliant under her. She could tell you were getting close with the telling sign of you getting louder and squirming all the bit more.
“Gonna fucking come? Gonna come while your parents are just downstairs, huh?”
When you don’t answer, she slips her hand around to press down on your clit. You arch more if possibly, whimpering—her name falling from your lips in a trembling sigh. All it really took was a few more thrusts and her rubbing your clit, and the band within you easily built up and broke. You’re thankful Ellie pressed her hand against your mouth before you came because you couldn’t help the noises.
“Els-fuck, ah!”
It came out muffled, quieter—but the sound was still reached ellie’s ears that were solely focused on you. It almost brought her to the edge. Your sounds, the way you were positioned beneath her, the phantom feeling of you squeezing around her, your swollen lips and tear stained face—shit, she was going insane. You were driving her insane and she couldn’t get enough.
taglist — @fatbootymuncher @letsreadsomesins-shallwe
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the-boy-meets-evil · 2 months ago
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building blocks | yjh
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(agreeing to be the teaching assistant is the last thing you want in a semester where you're already swamped with work. but, you need a letter of recommendation from the professor and you're out of other options. enter jeonghan, the menace who signs up for the class seemingly on a whim and disrupts your entire routine.)
pairing: master's student!jeonghan x TA!f!reader genre: university!au, strangers to loveres | fluff, minor angst, attempt at humor, smut rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: 19.7k (idk what to say atp) warnings: mentions of eating and drinking, jeonghan briefly drives a motorcycle, they're both engineering students but i don't claim to know engineering, the angst is minor because there's some miscommunication smut warnings: lots of kissing, hand job, fingering, slight voyeurism? (jeonghan watches reader finger herself), kind of loser!jeonghan, missionary sex, nothing really crazy all things considered
a/n: this is for the TA collab hosted by the amazing @camandemstudios. those two have been working so hard on this and i can't wait to read all the fics. but go easy on me because i know next to nothing about structural engineering. credit to @caelesjjk for this banner, it's so amazing 🥰 also thank you to everyone that helped me brainstorm along the way @ugh-yoongi @haologram @highvern and of course to @wqnwoos for letting me borrow her name.
note 2: this isn’t proofread. i had something come up irl and wanted to get it posted, so i’m sorry for any errors! i’ll come back to it next week when i have a minute.
(tag list at the end)
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Your entire academic (and professional, for that matter) career has been a battle. A fight to be taken seriously. A fight to get the right classes. A fight to make the right connections. A fight for every inch that you’ve gotten. There are times that you wonder if it’s all worth it, wonder if anything should be as hard as this. But, all you’ve ever wanted was to be an engineer. To be able to leave your mark in some sort of meaningful way, even if that’s also a little conceited. It’s all you want and you’re so close to getting some much needed room to breathe. 
Except…
You have to make it through one last semester of this damn Master’s program. You managed to find a sponsor to allow you to commit to a final semester full time, with only part time research work. That’ll put you in a good position to carry on for your PhD, with your dissertation topic already picked and funded. Things had been going entirely too smoothly, in hindsight. You should have known. Everything about your application to the upcoming program is perfect. Except for the final recommendation. And, of course, the professor to give that recommendation won’t just give it to you to recognize the years you’ve put into this. No. He implies that there’s something he needs from you.
Nothing really awful, in the grand scheme of things. Not for someone that does want to return as a lecturer at some point down the road. It’s just that you didn’t really want to be forced into a teaching assistant position for Professor Choi’s introductory structural engineering course. It’s the course that weeds out who’s actually going to carry on with the civil engineering branch of the Master’s program from those who may switch out to something that better suits them. Which, again, isn’t a huge deal, except that you remember how burnt out the TA looked from when you took the course and it’s the last thing you need during your final semester. It’s hard to know that some portion of your future hinges on doing this. It’s also hard to forget another friend of yours admitting Professor Choi had given him a recommendation without the hoops.
Whatever.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and all that. 
So you schedule your regular meetings with the professor, make a separate email folder for all course related communication, jot down the important dates, and figure out which lessons you have to help plan. First up is going to be the introductory class. Professor Choi comes in and introduces himself while you distribute the syllabus, an odd task when everything is available online through the portal, but he likes things in hard copy. Once he’s done his introduction, he leaves the rest of the first class to you, as he had with the TA in your course during your first semester. For a moment, you consider pointing out that this is a Master’s level course and you don’t really need to do the typical introductions. Most of these people have busy lives and, even though they’ll have to work together on projects, can manage without syllabus week. But, Choi is old school and you know it. You also need his letter, so what’s the point in trying to change his system? You’re not here to do anything other than fill a spot that he was having trouble filling, get your letter, and go. 
When you scan the roster before the first day, nobody particularly sticks out. There are a couple of relatively familiar names, though you’re not sure you can place faces to them, but most of the students seem to be in their first semester of the program. It only takes getting to the introductions for someone in the course to stick out, though.
“Well, I’ve always been good at building Legos. I figure, how different can it really be?” one student answers.
It takes everything in you to school your face back into a politely interested expression when the rest of the class bursts out laughing. Your initial reaction had been incredulity. Surely he couldn’t be serious. There’s no way someone just wandered into this program because he liked building Legos. The laughter from the rest of the class dies down and you keep your attention on him.
“Why did you really join the program?” you ask. That’s what every student was supposed to be sharing. A problem for this student, apparently.
“That is why I joined,” he says with an infuriating smirk. 
“What did you say your name was?” you ask.
“Jeonghan,” he answers without anything else.
You consult the roster in front of you and put a star by his name. This is someone you know you’re going to have to keep an eye on. 
“Did I get a star already?” he prompts, earning another few chuckles from his classmates.
“Something like that,” you say and then turn to the person next to him. “And why did you join?”
Nothing else grabs your attention during the remainder of the introductions. Several students volunteer what they’re hoping to get out of the program. One brave student says she’s heard that Professor Choi is tough before asking for your opinion. Although you give a neutral answer, you make a note to speak to her privately to address her (very valid) concerns. 
When it comes time for you to return to speaking about the rest of the semester, you expect Jeonghan to interrupt in some way. He gives the impression of someone that likes causing a little bit of chaos or bringing attention to himself. Instead, he simply listens, notes something down occasionally, and gazes at you so intently that you nearly feel yourself flush. It would be a lot easier to ignore him if he didn’t look like some kind of model, though. You catch yourself looking at him more than once when other students are sharing answers. His nearly black hair falls in longer layers around his face, not quite reaching his collar in the back. There’s something almost delicate about his nose, about all of his face, really. His features are soft in a sort of beautiful way. It’s only when he catches you looking that you shake any consideration of his features from your mind. 
Once there’s only a few minutes left, you dismiss the class with a reminder that your email is beneath Professor Choi’s on the syllabus and you’re always around to help them. This class, you share, can be daunting and you’re here to help them get through it in one piece. That part comes out genuine because you do mean it. None of these students are to blame for the position you’re in. It’s not their fault that they have a TA that doesn’t really want to be in the position. So, you’re not going to make them suffer. You’re going to help them just as the TA for your class helped you. You make a note to reach out to him and ask for some advice.
Jeonghan’s eyes linger on you as the other students get out of their seats and begin talking, mostly about what they’re most excited for in the coming semester. You have to break first and look down to collect some papers from the desk. It also helps to remind yourself this is the same student who said he joined the class because he likes Legos. Ridiculous. When you look back up at the class, you’re half expecting to see his attention is still on you. It’s not. He’s joined a few classmates and is leaving the room without a backward glance. 
Legos, you remind yourself, and return to gathering your things. 
The one good thing about all this is that it’s an evening course, designed for people that have to work during the day. When the class is over, you get to go straight home to eat dinner and meld into the couch with your roommate, who also happens to be your best friend. 
You: i’m tired, want me to pick up food on the way home?
Bestie boo: i already called in an order from that one place you like so you can pick it up on the way home 
You: wow who are you and what have you done with my best friend?
Bestie boo: i didn’t pay for it
You let out a snort because that’s exactly the friend you know and love. He has to cover up ordering your favorite food from your favorite restaurant, which is sweet, by reminding you he’s still a giant pain in the ass. The gesture is enough for you to ignore it and just let him have this win. Maybe you’re off your game, but you’re a little tired.
“You should watch where you’re going.” 
The comment nearly makes you jump out of your skin. Sure, you scare easily as it is. But it’s worse when the voice comes out of seemingly nowhere. Of course it’s Jeonghan from your class, leaning against the wall just outside the building. His eyes glint at your reaction, like he’s enjoying it. Maybe he is. A second later, he pushes off from the wall to come closer. 
“And you shouldn’t scare people like that,” you retort when your heart slows a bit. He’s looking at you conspiratorially. “Did you have a question from the class?” 
“No,” he answers easily. 
“So…” you start. 
“Do you memorize the faces of all your students so quickly?” he wonders, continuing when you give him an odd look. “Or am I special?” 
“You made an impression,” you say neutrally.
“A positive one?” he presses.
“I didn’t say that,” you counter.
“But, still, you remembered me. Unless you learn all your students' faces before class as TA duties,” he says.
You sigh and decide to give him a partial truth, one that’s less likely to bite you than admitting his face is one of the only ones you remember. “I haven’t been a TA before so I don’t have a manual for how I’m going to approach it.” 
“Happy I get to be your first, then,” he says and turns to walk away. He turns back over his shoulder with a wicked smile and calls, “see you next class!” 
Your mind is preoccupied all the way to the restaurant to pick up the food and all the way back to your apartment. It’s only been one day of class and you can already feel that this student is going to be a menace. Worse than that, he seems like he knows he’s getting under your skin and wants to press it even further. Realistically, you just have to get through any of the classes that you lead. Otherwise, he’ll be the professor’s issue. 
Seungkwan is waiting on the couch, aimlessly scrolling on his phone when you walk into the living room, takeout containers in hand. It’s relatively familiar, though you know that he also likes to be out whenever he can. A perpetual social butterfly. 
“Today was already fucking annoying,” you moan when you set the boxes down and flop onto the couch.
Seungkwan gives you a sympathetic look. “At least you’re one step closer to getting what you need from that idiot.”
You’re confused for a moment because you hadn’t been thinking of Professor Choi at all. “Oh, yeah, no. I wasn’t talking about Choi.” 
“What was the issue then?” Seungkwan asks as he leans forward to get his food.
“There’s this guy in the class and I don’t know. I can’t figure him out,” you offer. “He’s so annoying. Like who signs up for a structural engineering class just because he likes building Legos? And that smirk. Ugh. I hate him.”
“Sure sounds like it,” Seungkwan quips. 
“Fuck off, I do,” you double down. 
“What’s he look like? Is he cute?” he wonders.
“Does it matter?” you ask.
“No. You answered anyway,” Seungkwan says with a grin.
“Fine, yes he is attractive because for some reason I’ve been cursed. Why do all you annoying people in my life also have to be hot?” you whine, casting a look at your roommate.
“Did you just call me hot?” he barks through a laugh. 
“Fuck off, just pick a show. It’s your turn,” you say with a push on his arm. 
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You make it through the first few classes as a TA without much to report. Jeonghan tries your patience, but there’s not much he can do during the class and he doesn’t linger afterwards. That’s usually when Professor Choi wants to debrief on the course material and make sure the next class is ready. The class is also just starting to get into the real material and away from the foundational information. 
But, now the course is well and truly underway, which means you have to announce that you’ll be starting to hold your own office hours every week. Of course, Choi also has office hours and students could take advantage of those. Probably would, if not for the fact that he encourages the class to go to you first to try and resolve anything. Something about how he’s very busy and that’s why he has a TA. It’s exhausting and just another obstacle in getting what you need. 
After getting feedback from the class, you decide to set two different times for office hours, one during the late afternoon and one during the early evening to accommodate schedules. A few students show up right at the start of your first office hours session with similar concerns. So, you invite them in and start to work through a few practice problems to illustrate the point that they’re struggling to understand. It’s actually surprisingly easy to work in this way. You would never admit it to Professor Choi, but it’s actually kind of enjoyable. There’s value in helping someone understand a difficult concept. It’s also really rewarding to watch the comprehension dawn on the faces around you as each of them seems to grasp what you’re saying. 
Honestly, you can’t imagine your first office hours going any better when you’re already an hour into it and you’ve been working with the same three students. Of course, just as they’re gathering their things to head out, feeling more confident than when they showed up, Jeonghan appears in the doorway. He doesn’t even say anything at first, just looks around at the other students. They seem oblivious to what’s happening around them.
“Thanks again,” one student says as he’s standing up.
Another student catches sight of Jeonghan and she smiles. “Oh, sorry Jeonghan. We didn’t know you were having trouble with any of the concepts or we would have asked you to join us.” 
“That’s fine,” he says easily. “I was busy until just now anyway.” 
“Do you all feel confident with the topics? Or would you like to stay and go over something now that Jeonghan is here?” you ask, trying not to appear hopeful. (And failing at that pretty miserably.)
“Oh no, we’re definitely set. And we had plans,” the first student says with a look over at Jeonghan.
The three of them exchange goodbyes with Jeonghan and head out, allowing Jeonghan to close the door behind them before plopping into a seat at the table in your office. He’s directly across from you, which makes it hard to avoid his eyes. When you do meet his eye, though, he’s got a sneaky, all-knowing look on his face. You don’t like the loot of it one bit.
“What’s with the look?” you ask.
“What do you mean?” he retorts quickly.
“You’re making a face,” you say.
“Are you saying you don’t like my face?” Jeonghan asks, pretending to be offended. 
“Why are you here, Jeonghan?” you ask to switch tactics. 
“These are your office hours. I’m here to ask questions about the material,” he says. 
“You don’t need any help with the material so far. I’ve graded your problem sets and the answers have been perfect,” you admit. 
“Impressive, isn’t it?” he muses. 
“I’m not answering that. It brings me back to my question, though. If you don’t need help, why are you here?” you press.
“Why does it seem like you don’t like me?” he asks.
“I don’t have any feelings about you either way,” you deflect.
“Now, that’s not true,” he disagrees. 
“You’re determined to get under my skin,” you say, half as a joke. 
“Determined to figure you out,” he corrects. “It doesn’t seem like you’re all that excited about being a TA.”
“That’s because I was forced into it,” you blurt out and immediately clap a hand over your mouth. That’s the last thing you meant to say. “I didn’t mean…”
“Now we’re getting somewhere in this relationship,” he says, sitting back into his seat with a satisfied smile. 
You heave another heavy sigh, a common occurrence around this man. “Why are you so determined to figure me out? Why do you care how I feel about you?”
“Because everyone seems to like me right off the bat,” he says. 
“I can see why,” you deadpan. 
“So can I stay? Or do you have very important things to do?” he asks.
“It’s my office hours, so I’m here to help students until the two hours are up,” you admit.
“Perfect.”
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The next few times that you hold office hours feature Jeonghan showing up for the second half. It seems deliberate that he doesn’t show up right when they start, especially because you always have at least one other student in your office. If there’s another student there, he joins in to ask questions along with whoever else is there. When it’s just him, his questions are much more personal. It’s obvious that he wants to know you. Know your likes and dislikes, know the things that make you tick, know who you are when you’re not at school. Seems very convinced that the version of you outside the walls of the engineering building is very different from the one he sees. Jeonghan doesn’t seem to realize that he’s slowly getting more and more of a peek into who you really are. Thankfully, he doesn’t bring up your slip about being forced into being a TA. 
It doesn’t make it any easier to be around him.
It should. You should be able to get used to his particular brand of torture. Yet, with each new piece of information you learn, you unlock even more questions. It’s like you can’t ever really figure him out. Or maybe that he doesn’t want you to. He’s very careful to give vague answers about the serious things, while he goes on and on about the things that don’t matter. He’ll spend a solid five minutes talking about the latest Lego he’s building, but then breeze past the few questions you ask about him personally. It usually includes some sort of quip about how he’s wearing you down and how you clearly want to know him better. 
“Bet you thought you were escaping me today,” a voice says, startling you out of your thoughts. 
“Jesus Christ,” you gasp. Your heart beats a mile a minute as you look up to glare at the intruder. 
“No, Yoon Jeonghan. I can see the confusion, though,” he says and you sigh heavily. 
“Office hours are almost over,” you point out. 
“Not for 20 more minutes,” he counters. 
“Right, but I was in the middle of grading something,” you say, indicating the design plans in front of you. He glances over at them.
“Hm,” he says.
“What, Jeonghan?” you ask with exasperation.
“Just doesn’t look like mine is all,” he says and plops into the chair across from you.
“Well obviously,” you say. “Can’t exactly grade your project with you sitting here.” 
For some reason, that makes him break out into a wicked grin. “So you aren’t grading my assignment because you were hoping I’d show up.” 
Ah, yes. Now you see your mistake. Should have definitely seen that coming, too. “You’ve come to every other session. I wasn’t hoping you’d show up again, but it was a fair assumption that you might.” 
“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” he says placatingly.  “D’you have a question?” you ask. The tension headache you associate with Jeonghan’s presence in your life is threatening to make an appearance. 
“Nope,” he says, popping the last syllable. 
A notification on your phone stops you from responding to him and you unlock it immediately. It seems that Professor Choi needs to give you a stack of assignments and instead of just walking a few doors down the hall, he had to send a message. You drop your phone back on the desk with the message still open and take a calming breath. 
“Everything good?” Jeonghan asks with more care than you’re used to.
“Yeah, I’ll be right back. Have to go pick something up from Professor Choi’s office,” you say, already on your feet and heading towards the door. 
It only takes a minute or two for you to go and come back. For once, you’re thankful for Jeonghan because it gives you the ready-made excuse that you’re just wrapping up office hours with a student waiting for you to return. He doesn’t need to know that student hasn’t ever asked you a class related question without another student present. You’ll take the wins where you can get them. The pain in ass in question is still sitting exactly where he was when you left him. 
He looks up at you as you walk back in, set the folders on the corner of your desk, and sit back down. “You really hate Professor Choi.” 
“I didn’t say that,” you counter quickly. Probably too quickly. 
“You didn’t have to. Sometimes you have a really expressive face,” he comments and looks back down at his phone. 
“Only sometimes?” you wonder. Jeonghan looks back up to regard you.
“It’s always expressive, but you work a little harder to control it in class than you do outside of it,” he decides. “You mentioned something about being forced into this. Why be a TA if you hate it?” 
“I don’t actually hate being a TA,” you clarify. He seems to accept this at face value. “It’s just…I didn’t…no. Why am I doing this with you?”
“Because I’m asking?” he offers. 
“I had never considered being a TA. I wasn’t opposed to it, I just hadn’t really fit it into my schedule. It has been a lot of fun, though,” you say. It’s the first time you’ve noticed how much attention Jeonghan gives you. The way his eyes are on you and it seems like he tunes out any other distractions. 
“How did you end up here, then?” he asks. Any teasing or lightness is gone from his tone. 
“Please don’t make me regret giving you the honest answer,” you say warily. “But, I’m applying for my PhD program. I have everything that I need…except for a final letter of recommendation.”
“Oh, you’re joking,” he says and actually does look offended on your behalf. “He’s making you TA for him in exchange for the letter? That’s why you said you were forced into it?”
“Yup,” you respond, popping the end of the word like he had done earlier.. 
“Well, that’s definitely shitty but I’m still counting myself lucky that you ended up with this class,” he says.
“I can’t figure you out,” you admit. 
“I know.” 
That should be annoying, the way he says that he knows you can’t figure him out. It’s like he’s not even trying to hide that he’s making it difficult to get to know him. Yet, he’s not making it a secret that he wants to get to know you better. There’s just something about him that prompts you to share things you wouldn’t with anyone else. No, that’s dramatic. It’s just easier to share with him than it usually is with someone else that you barely know. 
Despite asking again if Jeonghan has any questions, he insists that he’s fine with just sitting there to keep you company while you have to wait to see if any student comes by in the last minutes of your office hours. For a change, he doesn’t ask any personal questions. Doesn’t try to press you into admitting things that you usually wouldn’t. He just takes out his laptop to make it look like you’re actually helping him in the event that anyone checks in on you. 
Nobody does. The last few minutes pass quickly with you returning to grading the assignment you had been working on. The two of you gather up your things in relative silence and Jeonghan walks with you out to your car so that you can head home. You’re expecting something else or something different, but that’s all there is. Just a walk to your car, a smile with a goodbye, and him heading off in another direction. It’s somehow the strangest and most normal interaction you’ve had with him. It makes you pause to wonder if this is the real version of him. A little quiet, a little reserved. Not being a menace to anything and anyone in his path.
It’s not until you’re back home, sitting on the couch with a glass of wine while watching some variety show with Seungkwan that you realize it wasn’t quite the normal interaction you thought it was. 
Jeonghan: i appreciated you telling me the truth about the class today
The message lights up your screen and all you can do is stare at it without being able to believe it. How are you getting a message from Jeonghan with his contact information saved? You’re racking your brain trying to figure out if you gave him your number, or saved his, and just didn’t remember. 
“What’s with your face?” Seungkwan asks.
“Wow, that was nice,” you retort.
He looks over at your phone where the notification still shows a message from Jeonghan. “Finally gave him your number, huh?”
“No, I -” you start when another message comes in.
Jeonghan: you left your phone unlocked when you went to Choi’s office and I figured it was time for us to exchange numbers
Seungkwan, now more invested in your messages than in the show in the background, lets out a low whistle of appreciation. “Wow, he’s good. I see why you like him.”
“I don’t like him, Kwan,” you sigh.
“Sure,” he says dismissively. 
As if to prove something, you make a show of moving your phone over to the end table and turning it over. Seungkwan gives you a Look that plainly says he’s not buying whatever it is you’re trying to sell. Otherwise, he lets you go back to the show that you’re watching without bringing it up again. 
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The text thread with Jeonghan seems to haunt you every time you open your messages, at least until there are enough conversations to push it out of your view. Surprisingly, you don’t get any more texts from him when you don’t answer. He also doesn’t show up to your next office hours, which is a bit odd to you. And you can’t vent to Seungkwan about it because he’s still very convinced that it’s only a matter of time before you end up sleeping with Jeonghan. Ridiculous, honestly. Like you would waste your time on someone you’re not even sure you like. 
That carries you through to your next class. It’s a slightly more complicated lecture that Choi does every semester to try and scare students off this path. He claims it’s so that everyone knows what they would be getting into. You suspect that it’s his way of reminding everyone just how smart he is. Not exactly the most flattering trait, but you suppose that he probably doesn’t care about that. Doesn’t need to. He’s been teaching so long that his job is guaranteed at this point. 
The good thing, though, about knowing Choi won’t need you during the entirety of the class is that you get to just sit at the back of the class and do some work. It gives you the chance to get through grading some of the assignments for the class without having to take time away from something else. Let’s you get absorbed into that to tune out the grating sound of Choi’s monotonous voice as he tries his best to warn students off the path. You’re so absorbed that you don’t notice the way that Jeonghan periodically glances over his shoulder to where you’re sitting, trying to catch your attention even for a moment. 
When the class comes to an end, you make your way up to the front as you would any other time. It’s a little irritating to have to check if there’s anything Professor Choi needs like you’re his personal assistant, but you’re also resigned. What you’re not prepared for, though, is that he calls Jeonghan up to the front of the room.
“Yes, Professor?” he says with so much respect and deference that it almost feels real, if you didn’t know how he feels. One of the only personal things you actually know about this mystery of a man.. 
“I really enjoyed your proposal for the final project using Legos,” Choi starts. “Every few semesters, I get someone that seems to think being good at using plastic building blocks means they’d make a good engineer. But, you’ve actually been doing wonderfully in the class. So, I want you to work with my TA here to refine the idea a little bit. I don’t think you’re meeting your full potential with it yet.” 
“Oh, well Professor Choi…” you start and he waves a hand. 
“Surely it isn’t a problem to help foster the best student in my class, is it?” he challenges.
“No, of course not,” you concede. 
Professor Choi wears a triumphant smile. “Good. I’ll leave the two of you to coordinate your schedules. See you next class, Mr. Yoon.” 
The formality of calling students by their family names nearly makes you roll your eyes. It’s only when you note the glint in Jeonghan’s eyes that you catch yourself. The two of you say your goodbyes and a silence settles in Choi’s absence.
“Should I just stop by your office hours tomorrow?” he asks when it’s clear you aren’t going to say anything. 
“Sure, that works,” you say. “You stop by most of them anyway.” 
“Does it bother you that I do?” he asks, a note of something you can’t detect in his tone. Maybe vulnerability. 
That makes you soften. “No, of course not.”
“I can back off if it’s making you uncomfortable,” he says with a forced smile. “Maybe it was too much adding my number to your phone.” 
“We can talk about boundaries when I see you during office hours tomorrow,” you joke. At least it seems to bring a real smile back to his face. 
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In a strange turn of events, Jeonghan shows up to your office hours only two minutes after they start. You haven’t even gotten yourself fully unpacked because you weren’t expecting him to show up at the beginning. Not when he seems to show up in the latter half every other time. 
The differences continue as you settle into the work the professor assigned the two of you. Jeonghan pulls out his proposal, something you hadn’t actually seen yet, and talks you through his ideas. His idea had been to submit a design for a brand new structure built to scale entirely using Legos. It’s ambitious in a way because the blocks only come in certain shapes and sizes. You can’t just cut something down to fit the size that you need. It requires a good amount of forethought. But, for someone like Jeonghan who’s taken to the course like a fish to water, it doesn’t seem like it’s quite enough. You can see why the professor asked you to help him work through it a little bit more. It needs to be fleshed out a little further. 
As the two of you go back and forth with ideas about how to give it an element that makes it more impressive, you’re stuck by how easy it is to work side-by-side with him. How well the two of you work together. It’s like every visit before this has been building up to the level of comfort you have now, even if you’re still pretending that you don’t really know him. Maybe you don’t, though. It’s not like he ever gives you real answers to your questions.
“Why Legos?” you ask as the two of you are feeling stuck on where to go to expand on the proposal. 
“Because it’s funny to see how annoyed you get when I bring it up, so I figured it would be funny to imagine you grading my final project that has to do with Legos,” he says with that same look.
“Be serious for once, Jeonghan,” you sigh. “I’m trying to help you with this. It’s the least you could do.” 
“Sorry,” he says after a moment and shifts in his seat. “It’s, well, it’s just always been the way that I zone out and reset. At first, it was just when I needed a break from dealing with people because I had to focus on the instructions. Then, I started to think about how impressive it was that they were able to form these insane shapes with building blocks. Then, it started to get more elaborate with me testing out what worked and what didn’t when I built my own designs.” 
It’s one of the first truly real and truly honest things he’s said to you. Not hiding behind a joke or brushing off an answer. It’s just him and you feel like that one response helps you know him better than all the hours he’s spent in your office up until that point. It also helps you realize what the proposal was missing in the first place: something personal from him. 
Ultimately, what is going to make this project stand out is something that makes it personal. A structural engineer doesn’t really need to design a building or a bridge or any other structure. They do need to design and analyze any of the support systems, though, which can be a dull job at times. Adding something more human will make it stand out. So, you suggest that Jeonghan take it a step further than just modeling a structural support system from Legos. You suggest that he set it up almost like instructions for an established set. But, instead of simple drawings to make it step by step, you suggest that he include little snippets about his previous experiences with using Legos, how he tests it to make sure he structure will hold, and any calculations he does for load capacity and gravity. 
Initially, he seems a little unsure. It’s easy to see that talking about things that are more personal to him, especially for a final project, is uncomfortable. After a lot of reassurances that nobody but you and Professor Choi will see it if he doesn’t want them to, he finally agrees that it’s a good idea. It does seem like he’s at least excited about the prospect now, though. 
While he’s rewriting his proposal to submit to the professor, you get back to what you had planned to do during the first part of your office hours before he showed up: grading assignments. Once again, his isn’t on the stack to be graded. Out of habit, you always grade his first and some time when he’s guaranteed to not be around. It’s oddly comfortable to work like this, grading papers while he types away on his laptop across from you. 
Once he gets through typing up a new proposal, he asks if you would be willing to read it over. You’re just about to suggest that he email it to you, when he just hands his laptop over. Seems unconcerned about having you his laptop. Although he watches you carefully as your eyes scan through the words, it feels like his only concern is what you think about it. Which doesn’t need to be a concern at all. It’s perfect, as far as you’re concerned. 
You tell him as much when you look up with a smile. “I love it.”
“Don’t be nice to me now,” he says nervously as you hand the laptop back over. 
“What?” you ask. 
“You don’t need to spare my feelings now when you’ve been ignoring my texts,” he says like he’s trying to protect himself. 
“So much to unpack there and we’ll return to the texts,” you say, a little exasperated. “But, I’m not being nice about the proposal. It’s perfect and I genuinely can’t find a single thing I’d change. Choi’s going to love it.” 
“Ah, well, he was right in getting your help. I wouldn’t have gotten here on my own,” he admits and it does actually make you smile again. 
“Still your idea,” you say to encourage him.
“Thank you, I appreciate it,” he says and you know it’s the real him for a moment. 
“Okay, but back to the texting,” you say to shift.
“The boundaries chat, wonderful,” Jeonghan says, returning to his previous mask of being a menace. 
“You really shouldn’t be going through a stranger’s phone and adding your number,” you chastise. 
“We’re not strangers though, are we?” he challenges. “And I didn’t go through your phone.”
“No?” you ask with an eyebrow raised.
“Your phone was still lit up when you left so I called myself quickly and then created a new contact, and then locked your phone and put it back,” he says like it’s the most normal sentence in the world.
“That’s insane?” you state with a level of shock.
“I really wasn’t trying to cross some sort of line,” he admits with a shocking level of sincerity. “I just really like getting to know you and I figured you’d feel weird about giving a student in your class your number, even though you’re still a student as well. So, I just wanted to make it easier. If you don’t want me to have it, you can delete it right out of my phone.”
Jeonghan holds his unlocked phone out to you and it’s open to your contact. For some insane reason, you do actually believe what he said. It’s easy to see how he might want to befriend you and be hesitant on how to do that. He strikes you as the kind of person that can put on a mask of liking to be social, but really would much rather be at home or in a small setting like in your office with you. And you do actually enjoy having him around, even if you keep trying to pretend that he’s basically a stranger to you. He’s not wrong, either. You would have felt weird about exchanging numbers with him. You’ll never admit that to him. 
He must see the hesitation on your face because he retracts his hand. Waits for you to say something, though. “I guess it’s not the worst thing that you have my number.” 
“That’s almost a positive,” he jokes. “You could give a guy false hope that you actually might be starting to like me.”
“Oh, now I wouldn’t go that far,” you quickly tack on. “Wouldn’t want you to get a big head.”
“Have you seen the grades I’m getting? I already know I’m doing something right,” he brags. 
“I have seen your grades since I’m usually the one grading them,” you remind him. “So, I have to balance it out.”
“You just wanna break my heart over and over again,” he whines.
“You’ll survive,” you deadpan. 
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Everything seems to carry on as it always does. You have to make sure you’re keeping up with all of your actual classes for your degree. Grade assignments when Professor Choi hands them off to you. Give feedback on the upcoming topics. Most importantly, you find  plenty of time to disengage from all the hustle of classes. To enjoy time with friends where you can let your brain just wander onto things that don’t matter nearly as much. 
Even though you don’t ever text Jeonghan first, it doesn’t seem deterred because you do always answer the messages that he sends to you. Some of them are idle thoughts throughout the day. Others are questions that he wants answers to and seems to think he’s more likely to get them over text than during the hours he spends in your office. Your favorites, though, are when he texts you some wildly out of pocket statement and then gets you to debate him on it because it’s always something completely inane. Something meaningless. It gets you so fired up, though. 
“He’s so infuriating,” you complain as you forcely set your phone down on the couch next to you. 
“I’m guessing we’re talking about Jeonghan,” Seungkwan says from his position on the other end of the couch.
“Why would you immediately jump to Jeonghan?” you ask. 
“Bestie, we haven’t talked about anyone else but Jeonghan all semester,” he says. You fling a pillow at your roommate.
“First, you’re being dramatic. And second, yes I talk about him a lot. He’s infuriating,” you say.
“Whatever you say,” Seungkwan says dismissively.
“I might hate him,” you say.
“They say hate sex is the best sex,” he says without taking his eyes off his phone.
“And they say killing your nosey roommate isn’t actually a crime,” you retort. 
Seungkwan looks up at you and smiles. “Let’s do it baby. I know the law.” 
“You’ve been spending too much time around Vernon,” you scoff. 
“Maybe, but if you kill me, who’s going to lend their ear to you and listen to your troubles?” he asks.
“Van Gogh,” you answer immediately.
“He’s dead,” Seungkwan says with an arched eyebrow, carefully avoiding the more obvious retort.
“And so are you to me right now,” you say flatly. 
“Touche,” he says with a light laugh. “What’s he done this time that’s got you all pissy?”
“He’s spent the last 20 minutes debating with me over whether or not a hotdog is a sandwich,” you say, expecting Seungkwan to think it’s just as ridiculous as you. 
What you’re not expecting, though you should be, is for him to pick up Jeonghan’s side in the debate and make you rehash everything you’ve already talked about. It sounds like such an innocuous topic. Something so outlandish that it could possibly spark debate for more than a few minutes. Yet, here you are, having the same debate all over again. It makes you even more heated despite not having a stake or opinion before Jeonghan asked you. In fact, you had never even considered the question. It was one of the most effective he had posed since he started sending you random questions or opinions like this. 
Somehow, though, your biggest mistake is telling Jeonghan that your roommate got just as invested as he had about the topic. Worse when you told Jeonghan that Seungkwan was on his side. It made it immediately obvious that you could not ever let those two meet. It would spell an instant demise for any remaining sanity you had left. The realization that they would be instant best friends is terrifying. 
The debate about whether or not hotdogs are sandwiches lasts all the way until the next day when Jeonghan shows up at your office hours, right at the start. The look on his face tells him that he’s about to carry on the text conversation. But, thankfully, he falls silent when you say that you actually want to get some grading done unless he actually has a question about the course material. It makes him soften, actually, and he agrees that he’ll sit at the little table and work on some of his own homework. It doesn’t really give the impression that he’s asking you for help, though you’re sure that you could sell it if you needed to. 
Normally, it’s not all that distracting to have Jeonghan in your space. Probably because he’s there so often that you’re kind of used to him by now. That’s a thought you don’t allow yourself to dwell on too long. It’s easier to maintain the idea that you kind of hate him than to consider what your real feelings might be. Yet, those thoughts seem to be swirling in your head just by him existing in the same space as you. If he’s equally affected, then you can’t tell. His fingers seem to fly across his keyboard as he works steadily on something. 
Without warning, his voice interrupts the rhythm you finally find. “Can I ask you a question?”
“You’ve never asked permission before,” you note, but don’t look up.
“I wasn’t sure if it was an office hours question,” he says with a little hesitation. 
That does get you to look over at him. “Is it about the course material?”
“No,” he says.
“Shocking,” you sigh. “Well, whatever it is, let’s have it.”
“Do you want to go out and get dinner sometime?” he asks, looking more vulnerable than usual.
It’s enough to make your heart both constrict and threaten to beat out of your chest. Does he know that you’ve been sitting here internally debating what your actual feelings towards him are? Has it been that obvious on your face? 
“With you?” you ask to buy yourself time. 
“That would be the idea, yes,” he says with a nervous chuckle.
“I don’t know…” you start.
“You don’t know because you’re trying to spare my feelings? Or you’re not sure for some reason?” he asks to clarify.
That’s such a crossroads kind of question. You’re not actually sure what the answer is yourself. All you know is that you feel immediate panic at the thought of one of the professors, especially Professor Choi, seeing you out with him. It’s not that there are any rules about TAs and students dating. After all, TAs are just students themselves. But, since you’re doing most of the grading, setting some of the assignments, and even leading some of the classes, it’s frowned upon. It could give the student actually in the class some kind of perceived advantage. The thoughts just go rapidly flying through your brain as you look over at Jeonghan’s expectant face.
You decide on some version of the truth: that it doesn’t matter what you think, it’s not a good idea for you to blur that line. That if someone from the university saw you out, that it could possibly jeopardize everything you’ve spent years working on. That Professor Choi seems even more old school than most of the other professors. You’ve already sacrificed so much. It’s just not a risk you think you can take. 
What you don’t say: that the question actually confuses you. That you can see yourself saying yes to finally figure out what exactly it is that’s going on with you and Jeonghan. You wonder what type of place he would pick. Wonder what he’s like when it’s really just the two of you without the risk of someone else butting in. You wonder if maybe he’ll answer all those personal questions that he’s so fond of dodging when he’s sitting in your office. It actually makes you wonder if saying yes is worth taking a risk when you’ve been so careful with everything in your entire academic career. It’s the kind of thought that really terrifies you even more. This is a man that you can’t even figure out your feelings towards and yet you’re considering taking a massive risk. 
It’s one of the most intense office hours you hold and you’re left with more questions than answers. 
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It’s been another exhausting day between your own classes, research, and doing work as a TA. Sure, there are definite upsides to your schedule. It helps you feel like you have a complete grasp on the material. It also helps you feel like you might be well suited to being a lecturer or even a professor yourself down the line. You also know that you’re giving more to your time as a TA than you need to. It’s just that you don’t want to leave anything to chance. The stronger the recommendation from Choi, the better. 
When you get to your apartment, Seungkwan is in the kitchen with Vernon and Chan. Which should be a concerning sight, since none of them are exactly great cooks, but you’re too tired to really care. You’re also kind of starving and whatever they’re making smells good. What’s the worst that could happen? So you call out quick greetings before heading into your room to drop off your things and change. You reemerge to the sounds of them bickering back and forth.
“Hey, do you want to try some of what we’re making?” Chan calls.
“She’s going to say no,” Seungkwan says.
“I’m starving. I’m down to try whatever it is,” you disagree. 
“Looks like Chan wins this one,” Vernon teases. 
A beep from your phone distracts you from engaging in the bickering back and forth. It’s the last thing you’re expecting, though it shouldn’t be. Ever since Jeonghan managed to get your number, and heard your half-hearted chat about boundaries, he’s been bothering you whenever he feels like it. 
Jeonghan: have you thought about what I asked? You: no Jeonghan: don’t believe you You: my answer hasn’t changed Jeonghan: that it's not a good idea? You: exactly Jeonghan: that’s not a no You: isn’t it? Jeonghan: listen, I respect you and if you tell me no, I won’t ask again Jeonghan: the only thing I’m going to ask if you actually think about it before saying no You: fine
“Hello? Are you there?” Seungkwan asks, snapping his fingers in front of your face. 
“Huh?” you ask.
“Oh, she’s gone girl,” Chan says with a laugh.
“Who were you texting?” Seungkwan asks. He gives you a look that screams he’s about to tease the shit out of you if you’re honest.
“Oh, nobody important. Just a friend,” you say dismissively. 
“Are we calling Jeonghan a friend now?” Seungkwan teases. 
“It wasn’t Jeonghan,” you say with an eye roll.
“Who’s Jeonghan?” Vernon asks.
“I think he’s that guy we’ve been betting on when she’s gonna finally give in and sleep with him,” Chan says in an undertone to Vernon.
“I’m not going to sleep with…hang on. What the fuck?” you ask, wheeling around on Seungkwan. “Have you been betting on me again?” 
“Only when you’re being an idiot,” Seungkwan says with a shrug. 
“Wait, again?” Vernon asks.
“Bro, we have been involved in other bets,” Chan says.
“I need new friends,” you grumble.
From there, it devolves into the usual bickering that you associate with your friend group. Sometimes you wonder how you even got so sucked into this friend group where they’re two or three years younger than you. You’re incredibly thankful for them, though, even in moments like this where you want to strangle them. 
Dinner moves into watching something and playing a game. It always goes the same way. Chan or Vernon take care of picking what to watch since they watch more TV and movies than you and Seungkwan. Conversely, Seungkwan usually picks the game, which is never a good idea because he always picks something that he’s good at. It doesn’t really matter to you, at least. Your brain tends to be fried from classes and research and all that. It’s nice to let them just make the decisions and chime in when you have something to say.
Thankfully, the conversations quickly move past your friends and their complete conviction that you have feelings for Jeonghan to much less serious topics. Sitting there, though, you feel an overwhelming sense of peace even in the chaos. Even when you say that you need new friends, you know that you wouldn’t trade these friends for the world. 
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It’s been just over a week since you promised to give Jeonghan’s question actual thought. You’re still not entirely sure why you agreed. It’s not like you’re actually going to say anything other than no. It’s been a little weird, though, because Jeonghan hasn’t brought it up again, either. It’s like he’s actually been true to his word. He even skipped your office hours when he would usually show up just to bother you and pretend to ask questions. 
Since your workload has been a little light, you agree to go out for drinks with Seungkwan and some friends. It’s a much needed night to unwind and just not think about any of the issues that plague you during the week. It’s a night of ridiculous conversations while you all give each other a hard time about nothing that really matters. Eventually, as is always the way it goes, Seungkwan gets up and kicks off some karaoke. It’s a blessing and a curse. He’s got an amazing voice and you feel like you should be paying to hear someone sing that well. But, then he wants other people to join him and none of you are that keen to embarrass yourselves by following him. 
Casting your eyes around the bar, they land on someone in a leather jacket. As you watch, he shrugs it off and sets it on the back of his chair. There’s something compellingly beautiful about him. He runs a hair through his short, perfectly textured black hair and turns his face slightly to the side. You’re appreciating his profile for a second before it hits you. This isn’t some stranger. It’s Jeonghan. It’s just that he’s clearly cut his hair and styled it differently. You quickly return your eyes to your group and only can hope that he hasn’t noticed you yet. Then again, Seungkwan has been loud and singing before returning to your table. Most people seem to have noticed him. Still, since Jeonghan hasn’t texted you or come over to say anything, you figure that maybe he hasn’t seen you. No matter what, you down another drink to forget about checking him out. 
By the time it’s your turn to go up to the bar and get another round of drinks, you’ve mostly pushed the thought of Jeonghan out of your mind. With your back to his table, it’s been much easier to act like he doesn’t exist. Once you’re at the bar, it’s a little more difficult. Your eyes find his table without even meaning to. His jacket is still there, but he’s not. 
“Looking for me?” a soft voice asks from just beside you. 
It makes you jump a little to realize that he’s somehow right next to you. You try your hardest to act like you’re unaffected when you turn to face him. Try to act like you didn’t realize he was there. Kind of fail at that, honestly, because you’re one drink past the point of being able to pull it off. “Hey, Jeonghan. How long have you been here?”
He smiles that mischievous smile that always makes him look like he knows something that you don’t. “I saw you looking over at my table. You knew I was here.”
“I almost don’t recognize you with the new haircut and that leather jacket,” you say and only realize your mistake a second too late. 
“The leather jacket back at my table?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “I saw you checking your phone too.” 
“Were you watching me?” you challenge.
“Yes,” he admits freely. “You’re nice to look at.” 
“Oh, well that’s not…I didn’t mean,” you stutter out, saved by the bartender setting a small tray down of drinks for you and your friends. 
Somehow, though, because life isn’t fair (and neither is Seungkwan), your best friend picks that moment to waltz over claiming he wants to help with drinks. What he really seems to want is to introduce himself to Jeonghan. Even goes as far as pretending he hasn’t heard Jeonghan’s name before. Seungkwan manages to sell it better too and you think it would probably pass with anyone else that wasn’t paying such sharp attention. It’s only then that you notice Jeonghan doesn’t have a drink in hand. Doesn’t really seem the slightest bit drunk. Which is fine until Seungkwan manages to make it even worse by inviting Jeonghan and his friends to come join your group. 
Then, something else that’s kind of weird happens. Jeonghan, who has spent the entirety of the semester up until about a week ago terrorizing you, barely says anything to you at all. He talks about his favorite artists with Seungkwan. Asks Chan for suggestions on some movies that he’s recently seen. Even laughs about random ass memes with Vernon. His friends, whose names you can’t even remember, fit in just as seamlessly. It’s a little…well, uncomfortable. It’s giving you entirely too much time to think and you don’t like it.
So, you do the only reasonable thing and you keep getting drinks. Stay just on the right side of drunk so that you’re aware of your surroundings, but not sober. It makes it easier to deal with everything happening around you.
As the night continues on, your merged groups seem to ebb and flow. Some people wander over, drawn in by the fact that it seems like a fun place to be. Other times, some wander off to make new friends or have new conversations. This is especially true of Seungkwan, which you’re used to. Your roommate is one of the most social people that you know. And then people start to make their excuses to leave as it gets later. How you end up outlasting Chan is a mystery, since he seems to have endless energy. It’s fine, though. You still have your roommate.
Well, until he tells you, without nearly the amount of shame that he should have, that he’s going to be bringing someone home that he got to talking to about karaoke. It’s a little unlike him, at least until you realize that the person isn’t a stranger. They’re definitely someone that Seungkwan has talked to before. It still leaves you a little lost on what to do or where to go.
“I never ask you for anything,” Seungkwan pleads. It’s patently false. He’s always asking you for things, just never things like this. 
“I could text Chan or Vernon to see if they’ll let me crash on their couch,” you say, trying to quickly clear the cloudiness from your brain. 
“Don’t they put their phones into DND as soon as they get home?” Seungkwan asks.
“My only other option is to just go home and put headphones on,” you say.
“You could come crash at my place. My roommate won’t be back from a trip til tomorrow,” Jeonghan offers. 
“Perfect! Thank you!” Seungkwan rushes out.
“Um? Seungkwan? You can’t just send me to some stranger's house?” you protest.
“He’s not a stranger. He’s been in your class all semester and at your office hours nearly every day,” Seungkwan says with an eye roll. Jeonghan looks vindicated hearing this piece of information. “You’re so dramatic.” 
“It’ll be fine. I can sleep in his room and you can sleep in mine. I’ll even make sure you have fresh sheets if you’re worried,” he says. 
This is definitely a bad idea. Even though you’re not drunk, you’re definitely not sober enough to pretend you’re not at least a little bit interested in Jeonghan. Everything about him seems to be a study in contrasts. Confident but not in some toxic masculinity type of way. Chaotic but serious at the same time. Silly to where he would say he joined a class because he’s good at Legos but also genuinely smart. And beautiful in a way so few men seem to be. He’s just something entirely his own.
You shake your head because you realize you’re spacing out. This is a terrible idea and one you probably wouldn’t agree to if you were sober. It’s not like he’s actually a stranger, though. Jeonghan seems to have realized the conclusion before you open your mouth. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Dangerous question,” Jeonghan says with a glint in his eyes. 
“I love you,” Seungkwan says and wraps you up in a hug before skipping off. 
“Are you ready to leave, then?” Jeonghan asks when it’s just the two of you.
“Yeah, might as well,” you say. He nods, looking a little unsure for the first time since you’ve known him and turns to grab his jacket. Says a quick goodbye to his friends and you try to ignore the looks they cast over at you. 
“Let’s go,” he says a minute later.
“Are we calling an Uber or something?” you ask.
“I’m sober because I rode my bike here,” he says as he leads the way outside.
“I’m sorry, you rode your what?” you ask, brain slow to catch up with what he’s saying. It’s then that you notice he didn’t just grab his jacket. He’s got a helmet as well. 
“Bike,” he says and indicates a motorcycle parked outside the bar. 
That brings you up a little short. It’s the last thing you would have expected when you thought of this man. Though, maybe it shouldn’t have been. After all, you said he was a study in contrasts. Isn’t this just another one of those? 
Somehow, the more you look, the more it seems to suit him. It’s not some big, clunky bike. Not what you typically think of when you think of a motorcycle. It’s sharp and beautiful, just like he is, even if you can only admit that in your head. He pulls open a compartment that seems to be under the backseat and hands over a helmet. 
“Promise I won’t go too fast,” he says with a softer smile than you’ve seen on him before. Like he’s actually trying to reassure you. 
Sure, it’s not the first time you’ve been on a bike. It’s just that of all the ways you could have seen this night ending, this wasn’t one of them. At least you’re not feeling too self conscious as you slide onto the bike behind Jeonghan and wrap your arms around his waist. You miss the way his breath stutters as you settle in close to him. Miss the way his heart starts to beat out of his chest because you’re too focused on getting comfortable. Don’t even think twice about clinging to his lean frame. But, even with the drinks, it’s hard to ignore the way that your body slots perfectly against his. Or the way your thighs squeeze against his hips. Maybe there’s a lot more to whatever has been happening than you’ve been admitting to yourself. 
Once you reach Jeonghan’s apartment, he carefully helps you off the bike and then puts a bit of distance between you again. It’s the first time that you notice he seems nervous, like maybe, you think, he might be reconsidering if this was a good idea. There’s not really much you can do about that now. You promised Seungkwan that he could have some privacy in the apartment and you’re already here. It can’t possibly be so bad that you really regret coming here. It could even help you sort through the very complicated feelings that are making their presence known. 
Inside the apartment it’s incredibly cozy. Not at all like you imagine two single guys would live while they’re in school. It’s not overly cluttered, but it doesn’t feel cold either. Jeonghan disappears as soon as you both have your shoes off, which lets you look around at some of the decorations. He returns with a spare t-shirt and shorts for you to change into. Despite your insistence that it’s fine, he just presses them to you and indicates where the bathroom is for you to change. 
It feels oddly…comfortable. Like this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him outside of class or your office. It also makes you take a little longer to change because you have to process whatever you’re feeling. Since you’re not sure exactly what to do after you change, you peek your head out into the living area. Jeonghan is setting some snacks and water out with the TV on in the background. You take it as a sign that you’re supposed to come out and join him. Momentarily, he disappears into his room and reappears also wearing more comfortable clothes. 
The confusion only gets even worse from there. Maybe it’s just that Seungkwan’s gotten into your head. Since you’re finally processing that you might be interested in being something a little more with Jeonghan, you expect things to go a certain way. Seungkwan, and your other friends, for that matter, seem to think it’s only a matter of time before you cross over into being more than friends. Subconsciously, your brain must have latched onto that. Even wanted it, a little. But, now you’re here, and Jeonghan doesn’t do anything. He’s not the smooth, confident person that you’ve gotten to know over the course of the semester. He doesn’t try to pull any moves on you. Just makes sure that you’re comfortable, that you like the snacks, and that you like the show he has on.
It all feels like it’s a little too much and so Jeonghan shows you the way to his bedroom. Your nerves feel frayed because surely, this is the moment where things finally shift. Surely this is when he makes whatever move he’s held off on making up until this point. Quickly, you brush off the need to change the sheets. It’s not like it’s that big of a deal if something else happens. Without giving your brain a chance to overthink it, you lean in to give him a hug. His whole body tenses for a second and you’re about to pull away, when he finally relaxes and wraps his arms around you.
“You know, you can just sleep in your own bed,” you offer carefully.
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he says through an emotion that you can’t place. 
“I won’t be. Plus, I’d hate to force you into your roommate’s bed,” you suggest again, meeting his eye to reinforce the point.
“Oh, well, it’s…” he starts, eyes avoiding your gaze.
“Really, Jeonghan, it’s fine. Your bed is big,” you say.
“Okay,” he agrees and walks to the other side of the bed.
It’s confusing, to say the least. He slides into the opposite side of the bed without meeting your eyes again. You’re not exactly sure how to give him another sign that you want something else to happen without making it too obvious, especially because it’s not clear if he wants that. The guy constantly in your office was just on the right side of flirty. Always trying to wear you down. This Jeonghan in his apartment is much quieter, more reserved. Like he’s not really sure what happens now that he’s gotten you outside of school like he claims he’s wanted. 
“D’you usually sleep with the TV on?” he asks and you pull a face.
“I’m not a psycho,” you snort. 
“Good to know after I let you into my apartment,” he jokes back and turns on the TV anyway. “I’ll set a timer just in case we both fall asleep.” 
Confusing. You’re laying in bed with this person that up until tonight you referred to as basically a stranger and there’s just…nothing happening. The two of you are plenty close enough that you could brush up against him, yet not touching at all. His attention seems to stay forward on the TV. Occasionally, he shifts to get more comfortable, but he doesn’t get onto his phone or even really look over at you. 
Thankfully, the bed is comfortable and without even realizing it, you drift off to sleep laying on your side, facing Jeonghan. The last thing you remember is looking up at his face. Appreciating the cut of his jaw and the way the light from the TV threw his features into contrast. Then nothing but the easiest sleep you’ve had after a night of drinking.
In the morning, when it’s too early to wake up after a late night but late enough that the sun seeps through the curtains, you have a momentary panic wondering where you are. Slowly, the night before settles back into your brain and you relax into the bed. It’s only when you feel a weight around your middle that you wonder if everything is coming back. It is, though. You think back to the last things you remember before falling asleep. Jeonghan was safely on his side of the bed. Now, his arm is draped over your waist and he’s breathing rhythmically like he’s still fast asleep. For once, instead of overthinking it, you just slow your brain back down and drift back into sleep. After all, this is one the right path to what you wanted the night before. 
The sun is fully up when you wake up again if the light streaming around the curtains is any indication. That’s not the only difference, either. There’s no weight around your waist and, when you look over your shoulder, the other side of the bed is empty. Which isn’t entirely surprising when your phone tells you that it’s nearly noon. It’s very unlike you to sleep in that late, but it makes sense. You’re just thankful that Jeonghan insisted on giving you so much water and something to make sure you didn’t wake up with a headache. Even though you’re still a little tired, you’re not hungover and that feels like a miracle. 
But, what do you do now? Nothing happened last night, despite genuinely feeling like Jeonghan had some level of interest in you. But, then he did share the bed with you and curl up to you during the night. Maybe that was his subconscious way of showing what he couldn’t say. You’re out of the bed and nearly out the bedroom door when you hear voices drifting in from somewhere else in the apartment. Voices, plural. One is clearly Jeonghan, but the other sounds female and that stops you in your tracks. 
The decision is immediate once you hear the second voice laughing at something Jeonghan says. You open your group chat with Seungkwan, Chan, and Vernon to ask if any of them are around to pick you up. Chan is the first, and fastest, to respond, saying to drop your location and he’ll be out the door to get you in a minute without any questions asked. That’s more than you’re expecting and you’re incredibly thankful. Makes it feel like one weight has been lighted as you quickly and quietly get dressed back into the clothes you wore the night before. 
Chan texts you to let you know he’s only a few minutes out. That’s your queue to actually leave the bedroom and make an appearance out in the rest of the apartment. Jeonghan’s back is to you and it looks like he’s got a cup of coffee next to him. The other person you heard from the bedroom is, in fact, a woman. She’s stunning in an effortless way that actually makes your head hurt a little bit. It has absolutely nothing to do with the drinks the night before, either. Her eyes land on you and there’s a smile you can’t place. It could be saying that she knows she won, despite whatever effort you made. Something on her face must tip Jeonghan off because he turns around.
And it’s worse than you thought, immediately. The smile on his face is both welcoming and soft, like he’s actually happy to see you. It only makes the whole thing more confusing. Why is he looking at you like that with one of the most beautiful people sitting across from him? 
“You’re awake,” he says, still smiling. “I hope Hana here didn’t make too much noise.” 
“Sorry, babe, I only have one volume setting,” she, Hana, apparently, says with another smile you can’t place. 
“Do you want coffee? Something to eat?” Jeonghan says and starts to get out of his chair.
“No, no, it’s fine. My friend is almost here to pick me up. Thanks for letting me crash last night,” you say without fully meeting Jeonghan’s eyes. It means you miss the confusion that settles in there.
Without a backward glance, you’re out the door and down the elevator. It’s only another minute or so before Chan pulls up, shockingly by himself, and smiles softly at you as you get into his car. All he asks is if you’re hungry and then starts navigating to your favorite place to get breakfast food that’s open at least into the early afternoon. It’s exactly what you need right now. 
Chan lets you just be in your head while he drives with music playing softly in the background. It might be a dangerous decision, honestly. All you can think about are reasons for that person, Hana, your brain supplies automatically, to be in Jeonghan’s apartment like that. His roommate wasn’t home, to the best of your knowledge, so that means she was there for Jeonghan. Was that his girlfriend? Was that why he was so reluctant to do anything the night before? On some level, you do know that’s probably not the right answer. The rational part of your brain knows that he wouldn’t be so calm if that was his girlfriend. There’s no space in your brain for rationality right now, though. So, you’re going to stew in the feelings that she could be dating someone. 
“Do you wanna talk about whatever happened last night?” Chan asks once you’re sitting opposite of each other in a booth. 
“Not really,” you say. “Nothing happened last night, though. So, you don’t have to worry about whoever wins the bet.” 
“I’m not worried about some stupid bet. I’m worried about you,” he says. 
You shrug. “I think I might actually like him.”
“No shit,” Chan says with a knowing smile.
“You didn’t let me finish. I think I might like him and I don’t think it matters,” you say.
“Start at the beginning and we’ll figure this out together.” 
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It’s been a week since whatever happened at Jeonghan’s apartment and you haven’t spoken a word to him since leaving. Not that he hasn’t tried to speak to you. After breakfast with Chan, you realized you had both texts and missed calls from Jeonghan trying to figure out what went wrong. Those stay unanswered. Even if you’re being stupid, you can’t really bring yourself to behave in a different way. When the next class comes around, you avoid his eyes as much as possible. The one or two times you do look over at him, he looks incredibly hurt and confused. It’s funny, you think, how he’s the one that’s acting put out by this whole situation when you’re the one who had to wake up to some other woman in his apartment without understanding anything. 
That leads to your first office hours. Thankfully, Jeonghan doesn’t show up to those like he normally would. The office feels a lot quieter, even though other students stop by to ask questions. It just all feels very professional and detached. Not comfortable in the way it does when he drops by. It’s hard to admit, even to yourself, that you had gotten used to having him around. That you even looked forward to it. Somehow, you’re not really sure how, Jeonghan became one of your favorite parts of every day you saw him. That realization makes you want to crawl into your bed and hide forever. No matter what, it doesn’t feel like you’ll have the option to go back to that. It sucks to realize it just took you too long to come to the very obvious conclusion. 
Now, at least, it’s the weekend again so you have a short reprieve from all things school related. Well, all things Jeonghan related because you still have your own homework to handle, assignments to grade, and a new week to prepare for. At the very least, you deserve a little bit of a treat. Texting the group chat makes you realize, though, that a lot of your friends seem to have their own things going on. 
Seungkwan is out spending the day with the same person that he brought home last weekend. They seem like they’re really enjoying getting to know each other, which you’re rooting for wholeheartedly. You want your roommate and best friend to be happy. Vernon is kind of vague saying that he’s got other plans. With anyone else, you might think that he’s also seeing someone. You just know that he tends to be a little spacy when it comes to sharing plans. Knowing Vernon, he’s probably just off with some friend of his. Once again, Chan comes through and says that he could really use a coffee. Apparently, there’s some new cafe by him that he’s been wanting to try out. It feels like an excuse because Chan will absolutely go anywhere by himself, but you take it all the same. He’s actually probably the easiest of your friends to speak to about this, even if he’s younger than you are. 
One sip into your drink proves that this is the best decision for a Saturday afternoon. Chan chatters away about the things that have been going on in his life. He’s taking more dance classes in every free moment he has and it’s nice to see the way his face lights up talking about it. He certainly seems happier than any time you see him talking about his actual classes. Think about suggesting he give up one thing to pursue something else that would truly make him happy. His face is different when he’s happy like this. It makes it obvious how strained he feels with everything else.
A laugh pierces through the crowd and it gives you the worst sense of deja vu. Suddenly, you’re back in Jeonghan’s apartment. Which is crazy, right? What are the odds that he and the mystery woman are in this same coffee shop at the same time as you and Chan?
Not impossible, apparently. Well, at least in part. Your eyes cast around for the source of the laugh when they land on the mystery woman sitting with someone else that you don’t recognize. Your brain tries to stutter over the name before it forces you to think, Hana. Just as you’re about to look away, her eyes find yours like she could sense someone looking at her. She flashes a smile, which you try to return, before looking back at Chan and whatever story he’s sharing. 
That should be it. Except, when she appears by your side a moment later, you realize it’s not. She has someone else you’ve never seen in tow behind her. Chan, not always as quick on the uptake, looks up at her in confusion.
“Hey, I wasn’t sure if you remembered me…” she begins and you’re quick to answer.
“I do, yeah. Sorry about the other day,” you say. Chan’s face has a look of dawning comprehension. 
“No, no, it’s fine. I’m sorry if I did something to offend you. I didn’t even catch your name,” Hana says and you open your mouth to share before she cuts you off with a wave of her hand. “No, Jeonghan told me. He’s done nothing but speak about you for weeks now.”
“And I thought I could be annoying,” the mystery person says from behind Hana.
“Oh, I’m so rude. This is my boyfriend, Joshua,” Hana introduces and your brain short circuits. What? Boyfriend?
“And Jeonghan’s roommate. I hit traffic coming back last weekend or I would’ve been there to meet you as well. Make the morning even more awkward,” he jokes.
“I’m sorry,” you say, rapidly trying to make your brain connect. “You two are dating?”
“Yup!” Hana says with a smile and then notices your face. “Wait, what did you think? That I was dating Jeonghan?”
“Oh, well, I don’t know. I just thought…it was still early-ish in the day and…” you stumble awkwardly. 
“Babe, no. Jeonghan is very single. I was just early getting there because Joshua hit traffic and I was excited to see him,” she says. “He will kill me for saying this, but he hasn’t talked about anyone but you since the class started.”
“Please note that I had no part in spilling the beans. I have to live with him,” Joshua jokes. 
“And just so there’s no more confusion, I’m one of her closest friends, Chan. Not a boyfriend or date or anything like that,” Chan says. 
“Oh!” Hana says and turns to Joshua. “Jeonghan was mentioning him, remember? There was a movie we were supposed to watch.” 
“Yeah, he did mention that,” Joshua agrees.
“Anyway, I’m sure you have lots to think about, but I’m nosy and I figured I’d say hi. Have a good weekend!” Hana says, full of more energy than anyone should have on the weekend. Joshua gives a smile and follows her out of the shop.
As soon as they’re out of sight, you drop your head into your hands. All that worrying and you could have just talked to him. Could have avoided this whole idiotic situation. 
“Feeling kinda dumb right now?” Chan asks. You raise your head to glare at him. “I did say it didn’t seem like he was seeing someone.” 
“Not the time, Chan,” you say.
“It’s completely the time. Look, yeah you fucked up by not just talking to him. But, you admitted that you liked him. He clearly likes you. Just talk to him. I’m sure you can fix it,” he says. 
“I don’t know,” you start. “I was such an asshole.” 
“I mean, yeah, you kind of were. But, he spent that whole night after Seungkwan invited them over getting to know your friends. Genuinely interested in everything we said. He’s not doing that just to make more friends. He wants to show you that he can fit into your life without anything really having to change,” Chan reasons and it brings you up short.
“When did you get so smart?” you question.
“I’ve always been smart, you just treat me like a baby,” he says with an eye roll.
“You are the baby in this friend group,” you point out. 
“Just go figure out how to make it up to him,” Chan says. 
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Even though you know it was a terrible miscommunication, you’re not sure how to approach Jeonghan for the rest of the weekend. You’re also not sure how the conversation will go. So, despite knowing better, you decide to just take your time. Get yourself completely set for the coming week and figure that you’ll see Jeonghan during the next class. As much as you want resolution, you don’t feel like it would be enough for you to text him and ask to talk. That could also be taken wildly out of context.
So, you prepare for the next class. Make sure you look a little cuter than you normally would for class. Go over what you’re going to say with both Seungkwan and Chan, who’s gotten incredibly invested in the whole situation. It’s another class where you’ll just be sitting in the back and listening, which might also make it easier. You’re a little early getting there so that you can set all your things down. 
But, then the class starts to fill in and you don’t see Jeonghan. Professor Choi closes the door, doesn’t comment on Jeonghan’s absence, and just starts teaching. It’s unusual. He normally takes attendance. Instead, he does a head count of the students and gets on with teaching. Everyone else is there. Jeonghan is the only one missing. You figure that maybe he reached out about missing the class. It leaves a weird feeling in your stomach, though, because you wonder if he’s okay. What if something happened to him? 
At the end of class, you join Choi at the front as you do on every other occasion. The answer comes immediately when Choi looks up at you. “Mr. Yoon emailed me before the class to say that he was feeling very sick and wouldn’t be able to make it. I assured him you would send over some notes on the subject matter today.” 
You try to avoid any relief that you feel at knowing it’s at least nothing that serious. It sucks that he’s sick, but at least he wasn’t in an accident or anything. You need to stop going to the worst case scenario, honestly. “Oh, sure. I’m sure he’s already ahead on the material, but I’ll send it over.”
“He’s such a good student,” Choi agrees. “Thank you for helping him with the proposal. I’m not sure if you read it over, but it’s exactly what I was looking for.”
“I did read it because he wrote it during my office hours. But, it was all him,” you say. 
Professor Choi looks up at you like he knows that’s not entirely true. “I can feel your influence on it. In a good way, of course. You have a habit of helping people get to their best results.”
“Thank you,” you say earnestly. It’s the most genuine compliment he’s ever given you. He reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a folder to hand to you. “Did I miss picking up an assignment to grade?”
“No,” he says with a smile you’re not used to seeing. “This is your letter for the recommendation packet. I already sent it in, but I thought you might like to see a copy.”
“Thank you so much, Professor Choi,” you say with a relieved sigh. 
“You’re incredibly bright, probably one of the brightest students I’ve ever taught,” he says and it takes you completely by surprise. “I know it’s probably seemed like I’ve been hard on you because I have been. I knew there was even more potential in you waiting to be coaxed out. I also know I made it much easier on John to ask for a recommendation. But, between you and I, your letter is much more complimentary and personal than his was. I can’t wait to see what you accomplish.” 
It all suddenly makes sense. Everything that Choi has put you through since asking for his letter. It almost makes you laugh. “I’m sorry for doubting your motives for asking me to TA this class.”
Now, Professor Choi does actually laugh. “Oh, no need to apologize for that. It’s much easier to get the most out of a student when they think they have something to prove.”
“You may be onto something,” you agree.
“I’ll see you next class,” he says and closes up his briefcase to head off.
With that bit of good news, you feel a lot lighter. You almost don’t even need to read the letter (though, you definitely will later). It’s enough to know that your entire future is still open ahead of you. It makes all of the miscommunication with Jeonghan feel incredibly silly. It also makes you feel a little bolder. So, you figure that you still have the location for Jeonghan’s apartment dropped in a group chat. Why not get him some food and medicine to help him feel better? It’ll give you a chance to apologize for how you’ve handled everything up until this point. 
That idea seems a little poorly thought out when you show up at Jeonghan’s apartment with soup and medication. He answers the door, looking completely fine healthwise and confused to see you standing on the other side of the door. 
“Professor Choi said you were really sick so I figured I’d bring some soup to help you feel better,” you offer, holding up the bag to show him. 
“Why are you here?” he asks. There’s none of the normal warmth.
“I was worried about you,” you admit.
He sighs and leans against the doorframe without letting you in. “I can’t do these mind games.” 
“I’m sorry,” you say immediately. “I know I messed up really badly. I owe you an apology.” 
“You might as well come in,” Jeonghan says and steps aside. “Soup does also sound good. It’s cold out.” 
“Right, here,” you say and hand it over to him.
“Is there enough for you to eat with me?” he asks and takes the bag. “Oh, it looks like it. Wanna join me? And you can try to explain what’s been going on?” 
“Sure,” you agree.
It’s mostly silent as Jeonghan heats up the soup and puts it into two bowls for you to enjoy it with him. He sets the bowls at the kitchen table and also sets some drinks down for you. The two of you take a few sips first before you venture to explain what’s been going on.
“I’m really sorry, Jeonghan,” you say.
“So you’ve said,” he comments. He’s not going to make this easy on you.
“That whole night when I stayed here wasn’t exactly what I signed up for,” you admit. He opens his mouth, but you wave him off. “Let me try to get this out. You were so kind and caring to me when you brought me back here. Then, I was kind of expecting something to happen and nothing did…”
“Because you had been drinking. I wasn’t just gonna be like hey, let’s jump into bed when your mind wasn’t fully clear,” he says with a scoff. 
“That’s fair. I get that,” you acknowledge. “Then, I don’t know. I saw Hana sitting out here with you the next day and I just kinda freaked out. I had realized that I might actually like you and here’s this beautiful person in your apartment for who knows what reason. I worried she was your girlfriend or something.”
He snorts a little derisively at that. “That would be kinda shitty to share a bed with you and then let you walk out to find me with a girlfriend. She’s not, by the way. She’s my roommate Joshua’s girlfriend.”
“Yeah, I know. I ran into her and Joshua while I was getting coffee over the weekend,” you admit sheepishly. This seems to surprise him.
“You met Joshua?” he asks. 
“They didn’t tell you?” you ask in return and he shakes his head. “Probably because Hana told me that I’m the only one you’ve talked about since starting the class.” 
“I wouldn’t have even cared if I had an answer to why you started ignoring me,” he says. 
“I got a bit scared,” you say softly. 
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t just speak to me,” he insists.
“I know that. I really am sorry, that’s all I can say,” you offer. 
“Well that and you can tell me that you do actually like me. Not that you might like me or something else vague,” he says with a glint to his eyes. 
“You are…infuriating,” you say with a laugh. “You’re beautiful and smart and funny and impossibly kind. You make me want to pull out my hair at least once a day…”
“Don’t do that. You have nice hair,” he interjects.
“But, yes, I’m trying not to be scared anymore. So yeah, I do like you,” you say.
“What about being the TA for my class?” he asks and you shrug. 
“The class will end eventually,” you say. 
“Does this count as our first date, then?” he asks like the true demon he is. 
“Only if you plan something else for our second date,” you concede.
“Deal,” he agrees. 
Everything feels a little bit easier after that. A little bit lighter. Like you actually can breathe for the first time all semester. You tell Jeonghan about the letter and he suggests that you read it right then with him. It makes sense, in a way. Working with Jeonghan has brought out exactly the side to you that Choi wanted to see. It feels like this is kind of his win as well, even though he didn’t realize it. It also feels a little less overwhelming to read it with him by your side. (It’s a rave. Way better than anything you could have dared to hope for and better than any other letter written by him that you’ve read. Everything feels worth it and like it falls into place.)
Now that the awkwardness is out of the way, Jeonghan shares that he wasn’t actually sick, which you already know. It’s obvious looking at him that he feels fine. It does surprise you a bit that he admits to avoiding you to give himself time to process, though. Then he moves onto talking about Joshua and Hana, grumbling that they hadn’t told him about running into you after you relay the entire conversation. Even goes as far as to say that he would have come to class so that you could have figured all of this out. Instead, he admits telling Joshua about the plan to skip. That’s why Joshua isn’t there, though. He claimed he was going to give Jeonghan his space to work through whatever he was feeling and spend the night at Hana’s. You make a mental note to thank Joshua for that. 
“How early is your day tomorrow? Do you want to stay and watch a movie or something?” he asks a little awkwardly when you finish your soup.
“Not that early,” you answer easily. “A movie sounds good, but can we watch something in your room? I feel like laying in bed and being lazy.”
“Oh, uh, sure,” he says.
“We don’t have to,” you say quickly.
“Can I say something that’s really gonna make me look…not cool?” he asks. 
“Sure,” you say curiously.
“You make me a little nervous,” he admits. 
That completely surprises you. Nothing about Jeonghan really seems anything short of confident in everything that he does. It’s kind of nice to see him falter. All you do is hold out a hand to him. “It’s okay, there’s nothing to be nervous about.”
He takes your hand easily and lets you lead him into his own bedroom. Seems very content to let you just set the pace of what’s happening. So, you settle on top of his covers and he hands you the remote. It’s nice to get to control what’s on the TV for a change, even if you’re not really paying much attention to it. Jeonghan is a little stiff against his headboard as you try to settle into his body. 
“Is it okay if I lean against you like this?” you ask, suddenly worrying this is too much.
“Of course,” he says after a moment. 
“You can tell me if…” you start.
“No,” he says firmly. “No, I’ve been thinking about this since the last time I had you in my bed.”
“Just since then?” you tease.
“No, it was definitely before then, but I’ve already lost a lot of cool points,” he says.
“I don’t want to possibly misread the signs, but are you okay with…” you start, once again, before he cuts you off.
“I am fine with absolutely anything you want to give me,” he says and you wish you could see his face. Wonder if he’s blushing.
“And if that’s just a cuddle?” you test.
“Fine,” he says.
“Or if it’s a kiss?” you ask and feel the breath he takes. “Or what about if it’s a lot more than a kiss?” 
He takes another beat. His voice sounds a bit strained when he speaks. “Definitely more than just fine.” 
That’s really all the confirmation that you need. Making sure you’re on the same page is important and getting this kind of consent makes it easier to relax. You settle further back into his chest and pull his arm around you, let one of your own arms drape across his lap. It feels like it might be easier for him to settle that way. So that you can’t see his face and he doesn’t have to worry about losing any more cool points. Not that those really matter with you anyway. More than anything, it’s entertaining to see the way this constantly confident, perpetual pain in the ass gets so tongue-tied now that he’s getting what he wants. 
The more time goes by, the more he seems to relax a little more into what’s happening around him. His fingers absently run along your arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. He leans his head down to meet yours and you could swear his lips press the lightest kiss into your hair. His entire presence is a little overwhelming. And he smells amazing. It’s such a unique scent that you can’t place. Something light, airy, and delicate. Something that seems to perfectly suit him. It might be your new favorite scent. 
Nothing about the TV show is keeping your attention. It feels like little more than a precursor to what you both know is coming. But, Jeonghan doesn’t make the first move beyond the contact his fingers make with your arm. The first actual move seems like it might belong to you, which is actually kind of exciting. It’s a bit thrilling to know that you’re going to be in charge with this man who’s done nothing but send every one of your senses into overdrive. It’s nice to know that he doesn’t need to be in control of everything. 
Almost as if you’re testing the water, you run your hand across his lap, careful to go slowly. He stops breathing for a second as he seems to wait to see what you’ll do next. It prompts you to run your hand back and forth a few more times, not bothering to move on from the subtle imprint of his dick through his sweatpants. Everything about him stills: his hand freezes on your arm, he doesn’t fidget, and his breathing is incredibly shallow. He starts to get noticeably harder underneath your hand while you keep your eyes trained forward, even though you have no idea what’s going on in whatever show you picked as background noise. There’s something strangely intimate about this in the way it feels a little innocent. 
Finally, when he starts to moan a little with each motion, you pull your hand away. Delight in the way he actually whimpers at the loss of contact. It’s time to actually face him so that you can see what you’re doing to him. Repositioning yourself, you see the look on his face. He’s a little flushed just from the attention and his eyes are wide. Waiting. All he’s doing is waiting to let you set what happens next, like he can’t really believe that this is happening after so much time. It is, though. 
You run a hand through his hair and marvel at how soft it is when it looks perfectly styled. Either his hair just looks like that or he’s got the best products in the world. Neither feels fair when he’s already this stunningly beautiful. Gently, you lean forward to press your lips against his. Let your hand tangle in his hair as you anchor yourself to him. The kiss is at complete odds with you slowly rubbing him through his pants. There’s a little bit of desperation and you’re not even sure which of you it’s coming from. All you know for sure is that his lips are so soft that they feel like clouds and he doesn’t even fight you for control when you slide your tongue into his mouth. Just meets whatever pace you set. He really is happy with whatever you give him. 
Your free hand winds down his body and doesn’t waste any time slipping into the waistband of his pants. When your hand wraps around his cock, he tries to pull away from the kiss, but you don’t let him. The moan that comes from you running your thumb over his tip gets caught up in your lips. You pull your hand out just long enough to spit into your palm and return it to the inside of his pants. Jeonghan does break the kiss when your hand wraps around his cock and strokes the first time, a hiss coming out of his mouth. 
“Are you still sure you’re okay?” you ask, but it’s almost more of a tease. 
“Fuck,” he hisses out. “Please don’t stop. Please.”
Hearing him nearly begging like that is the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. Never could you have imagined you would have this man like putty beneath your hands. It’s going to your head a little bit and then it hits you. You wonder if you can make him come just like this. Wonder how that would feel to have that kind of power over him. 
So, you do the only logical thing, and decide to test it out. You kiss him again, fierce and messy and desperate. Keep a steady rhythm of stroking him. He’s a squirming, writhing mess under your touch and it’s like he doesn’t even remember what to do with his hands. It’s actually turning you on as well to know that he wants you this bad. That nothing more than your lips and his touch are going to send him over the edge. It’s obvious when he starts getting close because he works harder to break the kiss. Can’t seem to catch his breath. You take a little pity on him and kiss across his jaw. Even pull away to watch him as he squeezes his eyes shut.
“You’re gonna make me come,” he whimpers.
“So come,” you direct.
“I can’t come in my pants like a fucking teenager,” he protests. “Please, I’m begging…”
“I want you to come for me, Jeonghan. Right now. Exactly like this. Come for me and show me how desperate you’ve been to have my hands on your cock,” you instruct.
“Fuck,” he draws out. “Fuck, I can’t…I’m gonna…”
His release comes almost out of nowhere, so hard and heavy that it coats your hand as you continue to stroke him through the release, coaxing every last bit from him. Once he’s spent, he collapses back against the headboard of the bed and you see any tension drain from his body. You pull your hand from inside his pants and wipe it off on them. Thankfully, he doesn’t even seem to protest. 
While his breathing steadies, you shift and get off of the bed. He slowly opens his eyes and tracks your movement. Only swallows a little hard when you start to undress without taking your eyes off him. Sometimes, this part makes you a little self conscious. It’s much easier now, though, knowing you had just made Jeonghan come in his pants. That’s an ego boost you never expected to get. His breath stutters when you even remove your bra and panties, leaving yourself completely exposed before him. His eyes go somehow even wider when you get back onto the bed and position yourself in front of him. He reaches out to touch you, but you slap his hand away.
“Oh, no, no,” you chastise softly. “No, my little demon, you are going to watch now.”
“Watch?” he asks. 
“Yes, watch,” you confirm and study his face. “Don’t you want to watch me get myself off? Don’t you want to watch me show you exactly what it is that I like?” 
“F-fuck that’s…wow,” he stutters out. 
You lean back, using one hand behind you on the bed to brace yourself. You spread your legs open to show him the way your pussy already glistens a little. The kissing and the feel of bringing him over the edge like that really turned you on. It’s a little bit of a first for you. Running a finger up your entrance, you collect some of the wetness there. Do it once more for good measure. And then, still emboldened by what’s happened so far, you reach forward to hold your finger out to Jeonghan. Let it run along his lip until he takes it into his mouth and tastes you. 
“Fuck, you’re so…just, fuck,” he hisses. “Can I…”
“No,” you say and cut him off, pulling your finger back. 
Now that you’ve had a taste of him begging for something, you want to drive him to that again. Want to get him so turned on that he can’t even see straight. You slowly tease at your entrance and watch the way his eyes track each movement. When you use your free hand to play with one of your nipples, he seems like he can’t really figure out where to look. Then, you slide one finger into your pussy and it’s like he can’t see to take his eyes off the motion. You moan, even though it’s nowhere near enough of a stretch, and increase the rhythm. Quickly add another finger and start to fuck yourself just the way you like. Just the way you would when you want to draw out your release a little more than using a toy. You slide your free hand down your body and use it to rub small circles on your clit. Somewhere, the thought of Jeonghan watching you becomes a little secondary. It’s incredibly sexy to know that he’s just watching, but you’re also invested in your own high. You want to do this for yourself as much as to show Jeonghan. Can’t possibly realize that Jeonghan is even more turned on knowing that you’re so lost to your own passion. 
The orgasm washes over you more suddenly than you’re expecting and it takes a moment to catch your breath. It takes another moment to realize that Jeonghan has undressed himself while you were lost in your own world. He isn’t touching himself though and you can’t figure out if he’s still sensitive or just waiting for your permission. It’s hard to avoid the realization that every part of him is beautiful. His body is all lean lines, not overly muscular, yet still looks strong. Even his cock is kind of beautiful in a way, which isn’t fair. It’s not surprising, though. 
“That was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen,” he admits, a little breathless. 
“D’you think you can make me come as well?” you tease. “Want to feel my pussy squeeze around you?” 
He nods immediately and it makes you laugh a little. “I know I can. I want…” 
“To taste me?” you offer and his eyes go dark with lust. 
“Can I?” he asks. “Can I actually get a taste? Just your finger wasn’t really enough.” 
“I want to see what that mouth can do when it’s not talking a mile a minute,” you say. “I hope you’re just as good with your tongue.”
It’s obvious that this catches him a little off guard that you’re so confident now with him. So easily fall into telling him exactly what you want him to do. But, you’re very curious to see what his skills are like. The two of you reposition so that he can settle between your legs. His eyes find yours, searching, Maybe asking permission. You nod and he uses his fingers to spread your lips open. He licks up your core and mutters a quiet fuck under his breath at your lingering wetness. The breath against your core sends a slight shiver through your body. 
After all the build up and everything, you don’t really have the patience for him to go slow. So, you tangle your hand into his hair and press his head further into your cunt. Force his nose to brush against your clit. Don’t really stop to consider if it’s too much for him. His moans into you seem to show that they’re not, though. It’s nice to just take what you need and know that he’s enjoying it just as much as you are. When you ask him (read: tell him) to add a finger, he does it without question. For someone that always seems to have a retort for everything, he’s surprisingly quiet now. Nothing piercing the quiet of the room apart from the constant stream of moans from both of you and curses from you as you get closer to your second orgasm. 
The second one hits a lot harder than the first, a fact that you wouldn’t really want to admit to Jeonghan. It’s too obvious to hide, though. You don’t even care. Jeonghan’s tongue is far better than anything you could have dreamed about. Not that you were dreaming about it. (And not that you ever got yourself off in the shower or in your bed, late at night, thinking of the annoying guy who wouldn’t ever seem to leave you alone. Absolutely not.) When you open your eyes again, you find Jeonghan looking at you with awe. There’s nothing smug about his look. It makes your insides go even a little mushier. It’s definitely not the time for those kinds of emotions. 
“Wow,” is all Jeonghan says. 
“Yeah,” you agree. 
“Do you still want to…? I mean, can we still…” he starts.
“Jeonghan, do I make you feel that nervous?” you joke. “You just ate me out and made me come all over your face.” 
He shrugs. “I just don’t wanna press my luck.” 
“Maybe we just stop here then,” you say with a return shrug. “I’m not sure you want it enough.”
“Oh, no, I definitely want it,” he disagrees.
“Are you sure?” you taunt. “Sure you can handle it?” 
That unleashes a side of Jeonghan you haven’t fully seen yet. The next moment, he’s begging you for your pussy. Begging you to show you how much he still wants you. Begging to make up for the fake that he came in his pants just at your touch. Just begging for anything and everything. He even goes as far as to say that he’ll do all the work. It shouldn’t be working for you. It’s kind of lame, the way he just can’t seem to stop himself from running his mouth. And, unfortunately, it’s working for you. You kiss him just to make him stop. 
The kiss immediately turns into something desperate, but you’re not sure which one of you takes it there first. Every new bit of him you get only makes you want even more of him. It’s kind of insane to think you weren’t even sure you liked him when it’s been so easy to fall into this. Jeonghan breaks the kiss and reaches over into his nightstand for a condom. Somehow, he manages to get it on in nearly record speed, despite his nerves about everything else. He doesn’t waste any time in positioning himself, either. You lie back when he spreads your legs open and seems a little drunk on the sight of you. You tap his side with your foot and he shakes his head clear of whatever he was thinking. 
Jeonghan lines himself up at your entrance and presses his tip in. You arch your back, moaning at the initial stretch. It’s immediately better than either of your fingers or his tongue. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in and it makes him snap into you in one swift movement. All you wanted was to be full and you squeeze your walls around him. Direct him to move. The two of you work together to figure out the right pace, knowing that neither of you is likely to last all that long. You’re both a little sensitive from everything in the lead up to this moment. Still, you revel in the way that Jeonghan rolls his hips into you. Appreciate the way that he nearly pulls all the way out before snapping back into you. Moan into the sloppy kiss when your mouths crash together. It’s hard to tell where your own whines start and his moans begin. The sounds all kind of blend together into some kind of weird harmony. 
Where Jeonghan was incredibly vocal when he was begging, he doesn’t seem to have a coherent thought to share now. Yet, his eyes never leave you. Like he’s trying to map each part of your body. It’s too fast for him to learn what you actually like. That’s not what you need, not right now. What you need is to have another release, one that comes at the same time as his own. And that’s exactly what you get when you come hard again just as you feel his thrusts stutter. A moment later, he’s coming into the condom and eventually stilling inside of you. 
The last thing you want is to feel the loss of him inside of you, but you understand that he has to pull out. His breathing is heavy when he rolls over onto his back. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to get out of bed. That it’s a struggle. But, he gets up to dispose of the condom and you hear water running in the distance. He returns a moment later with a wet cloth and starts gently washing you without even asking. He tosses the cloth on his dresser and then collapses back on the bed next to you. Pulls you into his body without a second thought.
“I don’t want to go anywhere,” you say softly while you’re nestled into him. 
“Like I would let you leave,” he says just as softly.
“Oh, the man that begs for my pussy is going to force me to stay?” you challenge. 
You feel the way his chest slightly rumbles with laughter. “I was hoping you’d let me live for a second.”
“After you not letting me live since we met? Fat chance,” you answer.
“I suppose I deserved that,” he says.
“I really don’t want to leave tonight, though, so hopefully you have more clothes to lend me,” you say.
“You’re gonna have to let me move for that,” he says in return.
“Worst offer I’ve gotten all day, but fine,” you agree and allow him to disentangle from you. 
Once he offers you some clothes, you also get up from the bed to get dressed. Try not to ogle Jeonghan too much as he does the same. He catches you, because of course he does, but surprisingly doesn’t say anything. Only smiles back at you. You help him remake the bed before the two of you go back out into the living area. It occurs to you that you didn’t exactly let your roommate know what you were up to before just heading straight over to see Jeonghan.
A fact that is immediately obvious when you see the texts and missed calls on your phone. Oop.
“Hey,” you call out to Jeonghan. “My roommate, I’m sure you remember him…”
“Yeah, Seungkwan, right?” he asks.
���Yeah, he’s freaking out because I forgot to say I was coming over here,” you say. “I’m just gonna call him really quick to let him know I’m fine and I’ll see him tomorrow.”
“Do you want privacy?” he asks and you just laugh lightly.
“Not sure I need it,” you say and the phone is already ringing. Seungkwan answers nearly immediately.
“What the fuck? Are you okay?” he asks instead of saying hello.
“Chill, Kwan, I’m fine,” you answer. 
“Where are you? Your class ended hours ago,” he says.
“Has it been hours?” you ask with some amount of surprise. 
“Wait, where are you?” he asks again, sounding calm but skeptical now. 
“I just…just don’t worry about me for the night, okay? I’ll be home tomorrow,” you say. 
“Switch to video, you whore,” Seungkwan says skeptically.
“Don’t be a weirdo,” you retort.
“Come on! Turn on your camera!” he yells and you pull the phone away from your ear.
“Fucking fine,” you grumble and press the button on your phone before holding it back up to your face.
“I KNEW IT!” he shrieks gleefully. “Who’s shirt is that?”
“Oh, well, it’s…” you stall and look over at Jeonghan. He’s already moving toward you.
“Well?” Seungkwan prompts as Jeonghan leans over behind you so his face shows in the camera.
“It’s mine,” Jeonghan answers and Seungkwan looks like Christmas came early.
“Well, hello Jeonghan,” he says. 
“I promise to take good care of her and send her back in one piece,” Jeonghan says and Seungkwan can’t contain his grin.
“Keep her as long as you like. I’m about to be so rich,” he says, far happier than he should be.
“Goodbye Seungkwan. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say and hang up before he can say anything. 
Once you hang up, Jeonghan gives you an odd look. Like he’s trying to figure out what Seungkwan just said.
“Do I…want to ask?” he finally asks.
You sigh. “Seungkwan started placing and taking bets about me sleeping with you as soon as I mentioned you.” 
“And when was that?” he asks, seemingly not even surprised by the bets. You internally curse.
“After the very first class when you mentioned you joined because you like Legos,” you admit. 
“We could have saved so much time,” he whines and you just shake your head.
“This is exactly how it was supposed to go,” you disagree.
“Maybe,” he concedes. “Should we get some sleep? We can figure everything else out in the light of day.”
“Sounds perfect,” you agree and follow him to bed. 
It’s far easier than it should be to settle into bed with him. Like you’ve done it a million times before. Maybe it’s okay to allow yourself to have the things you want. Maybe this can all be as easy as attaching one block to another until you have something amazing. 
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i hope you liked it! and like i said, i'll be back to fix any spelling/grammar errors after the weekend.
taglist: @newjihoonie, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @sunflowergyeomie, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @okiedokrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @jelly-n , @christinewithluv, @hipsdofangirl, @sana-is-ms-rmty, @lllucere, @vixensss, @soffiyuhh @aidanjoon, @hanniebub, @stormy1408, @lilifiedeans, @hyucksrealm, @joshuaslv, @tinkerbell460 (strikethrough means can't tag)
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lass-us-slay · 4 months ago
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So I read a prompt about how Wonder Woman found Danny in a trash can (don’t remember which one) and I was bored.
So I took that lil info and made it into an AU.
So basically, Danny get yeeted into this unknown universe and has no where to live. And no where to live means no money. No money means no food. No food means Danny can’t keep his human half sustained.
So what does he do?
Decides to not change into a human and live in a trash can.
Yes you heard that right, live in a trash can.
Because he’s a ghost, he doesn’t have to worry about the germs and stuff. But that doesn’t mean he lives in just any trash can! He lives in a clean one ☝️
AND he also decorated it with his name so other people know it’s his!
And so Danny has been here for a while now and realizes
Holy shit there’s hero’s here- you know what, why doesn’t he have hero’s back home?!
And being minorly annoyed jealous (but he’s never admitting that)he thought:
Well since there’s hero’s here already, guess I’m not needed.
.
.
.
Good. I’m tired af
And so Danny caries on his life, being content with his trash can and scaring whoever comes into his alley. It’s fun. Sure he sometimes needs to ugh overshadow people to feed his human side, but other than that.
It’s going great.
But Danny doesn’t realize that with Amity gone (or smth, you choose) which was his haunt, he slowly makes the trash can into his new haunt.
And slowly but surely, Danny’s beloved haunt trash can starts to become other worldly kinda.
Yk because of the ectoplasm.
So now Danny’s lovely trash can haunt has more space inside and- Hey Danny can actually sleep in it better!! And he got some company too!
In the form of blob ghosts.
Two actually.
They keep his trash can clean and help purifying some corrupted ectoplasm that he finds. Because for some reason this universe’s ectoplasm seems half way artificial and tastes a bit weird. Which is where the blob ghosts help out in.
Everything was great.
Danny was loving the trash can life style.
He has two blob ghosts friends. Which he named Sam and Tucker, and yea they couldn’t talk but that was fine.
He wasn’t lonely, he wasn’t. He had two very much talking friends like Sam and Tucker.
However one day two weirdly dressed people- oh they were hero’s.
Well anyway they found him, one woman stripper and one furry guy.
But it was on accident! He was just peaking out of his beloved haunt trash can, and they spotted him.
He stared, they stared back.
Then the woman stripper asked him questions, even when he said:
“Don’t mind me, have a nice day!”
But they just kept bother him and giving him weird looks and glances.
Which- rude.
Didn’t they see his mark on his haunt trash can? Obviously it means it’s his home, so they shouldn’t be bothering him still. He’s safe as can be.
Plus.
It’s not like he’s looking at them in suspicion and weirdness, I mean look at them! What kinda cheep knock off vampire fury mix and American stripper style clothing are those!
They should mind their own business!
———
Just a silly lil drawing of this lmao, don’t mind me.
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flwrstqr · 8 months ago
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CALL ME YOURS !! (LHS - 이희승)
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SYNOPSIS: ever since you broke up with your ex, choi jiho, who cheated on you with another girl, you have always wanted to get revenge. when you meet jiho again at school, to prove you were over him and had met a better man, you told him you were meeting someone. you lied and told him you were meeting a random guy who you pointed at on your school's bulletin board for being the top student in the whole school. coincidentally, that guy was lee heeseung, known for his quiet and smart personality. then jiho demands to meet him in real life, hand-in-hand with you, which now you have a huge problem. first, you have to find heeseung, and next, you have to date him.
pairing: topstudent!heeseung x popularstudentfem!reader
genre: fake dating, s2l, romance, high school au, sunshine x cold
warning(s): reader + heeseung being in denial, your ex cheated, kissing, inspired by a k-drama (i forgot which one), two of them being awfully awkward at first, swearing, grammar errors, party, lots of love confusions, does say that winter is dating beomgyu, punching, fighting
word count: 7k
AN: guys im back with a long au, i never really write long aus, so this is slightly new to me. i did proofread it but not super thoroughly so if i made any mistakes, my bad for that .
taglist: @yenqa @mylstserenade @jlheon @naespas @jooniesbears-blog @erehkinnie30 @wonifullove @miumiuisme @shawnyle @dimplewonie @beomluvrr @jiaant11 @teddywonss
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ALL YOU WANTED WAS REVENGE. Sweet revenge against your idiotic ex, Choi Jiho.You remember the moment you walked into the girls locker room to go deliver something to your PE coach, only to find the room “empty”. It hit you like a ton of bricks when you stumbled upon Jiho, locking lips with your “supposed” best friend, Kim Haeun, in the girl’s locker room Lip on lip, eyes closed, moving in sync. Heart shattered, tears streaming, you bolted, tripping over a basket of equipment and scraping your knees quickly catching attention of Jiho. His voice trailed after you, calling your name as you fled into the distance.
Losing both your best friend and your boyfriend cut deep. Being single was one thing, but being unable to find anyone who measured up to Jiho was another.
"YN, your standards for men are too high!" Karina remarked from the bleachers during PE.
You shrugged. "They've always been high." For the past 4 months, no one was your type compared to Jiho, the perfect boyfriend in your eyes: tall, handsome, a football player, rich, and occasionally nice.
"It's because of that disgusting asshole," Ningning scoffed.
"He isn't disgusting!" you retorted.
"YN, you need to get over him. This is just becoming toxic, plus you dumped him in front of the whole school ," Giselle chimed in. She was right. You vividly recalled the moment, twenty minutes before the bell, eyes swollen from crying all night but disguised behind makeup, replaying yesterday's scene you witnessed in your mind.
"YN!" Jiho's voice snapped you back to reality, his figure rushing towards you.
"Can we talk?" he asked, breathless.
"Talk about how you fucking cheated on me? Fine, I'll hear you out," you yelled, drawing everyone's attention.
"Can you keep it down, YN?" Jiho snapped.
"Sure I’ll quiet it down when I want to. Go to your girlfriend, Haeun. Why does she have to be my best friend, out of all people?" you glared.
"YN, let's talk inside," Jiho groaned, irritated.
"No, we're done. I never wanted you anyway, you asshole. Just fuck off," you spat, the words stinging even as they left your mouth The next thing you knew the scene spreaded like wildfire at school.
"Are you okay?" Minjeong asked as you sobbed at the lunch table.
"Listen, YN, Jiho wasn't worth it. You saw what you saw," Karina tried to console.
"I don't know... it's just over now," you murmured, head in your hands.
"Maybe it's a sign to find someone better," Ningning suggested.
"I don't know..." you whispered, feeling lost, unable to move on.
“I’m for sure there’s someone way better than him.” Giselle added (biggest lie you ever heard).
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MONTHS PASSED AND YOU FOUND YOURSELF IN THE LIBRARY, lending a hand to the librarian in organizing books before school started. As you went about your duties, dropping off books and preparing to fetch more, the one and only, Jiho, stood by the school bulletin board waiting for you. It had been months since the breakup, and yet, the wound was still fresh, a constant reminder of the pain (really yn..)
"I wanted to say a word," Jiho awkwardly mumbled, eyeing you for a reaction, his hands in his pockets.
You reluctantly agreed, "Fine, make it quick. I'm busy."
"I broke up with Haeun," he stated, the words hanging in the air.
"What?" Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. 
"I ended things with Kim Haeun," he said more firmly. His words sank in, but confusion lingered. But why was he telling you this now? Then it hit you—he wanted you back. Yet, on a day when you missed him, you suddenly felt nothing. He had left you for another girl (well, technically, you dumped him), betrayed you, and now he came back because you were his second choice?
"Why are you telling me this?" You managed to maintain calm.
"I still like you, YN LN," he confessed, causing your eyes to widen. You bit your lip, before you could accept his confession like your 5 minute ago self would. Your heart didn’t thump like it did when you were around him. Your hands weren’t sweaty like they were when he looked at you before. Your mind wasn’t racing like it was when Jiho confessed to you for the first time, months ago. It was nothing like any of that–you just felt empty and cold.
"I'm seeing someone," you blurted out, realizing the lie you had just said. Crossing your fingers, you hoped he wouldn't ask about the identity of your "so-said boyfriend"
"Who?" he inquired, raising his eyebrow. Desperately searching for an excuse, your eyes landed on the bulletin board, displaying a list of top students and their ID photos.
Rushing over, you pointed at the first photo and name you saw, "That guy," you said, reading his name, "...Lee Heeseung! I'm dating him."
"Oh, really?" Jiho cast a skeptical glance between you and the photo, a smirk playing on his lips. "Then," he leaned in closer, "how about you introduce me to him, hand-in-hand, next week? I want to see if he's worthy of you." Panic rushed in you, and your throat went dry. You forced a smile and nodded in reluctant agreement.
"Sure," you replied.
"Great, see you next week," Jiho said, turning and walking away. You were officially doomed. Now, you have to find this Lee Heeseung and give him a deal.
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YOU WANDERED DURING LUNCH, TRYING TO FIND HEESEUNG. You only heard about him because he got a perfect score on the hardest SAT exams, but you didn't really pay attention.
"Heeseung? Sorry, I don’t know who he is," a girl replied when you asked her about Heeseung.
"It's okay," you smiled politely and left, feeling frustrated.
"I'll never find him," you groaned to Karina, who was with you while you asked everyone about Heeseung.
"Why did you lie to Jiho then? I thought you weren’t over him. Last night, you were giggling at how cute Jiho is and how much you want him back," Karina asked, taking a bite of her apple.
"I don’t know. He was just using me. I knew it because he and Haeun broke up," you explained, letting out a soft sigh. "He saw me as a second option, and I got into this mess because I lied to him about having a boyfriend who's probably some ugly nerd."
"I told you he was using you the entire time! But you didn’t trust me!" Karina scolded you.
"Sorry, I was just blind back then," you mumbled.
Before your last attempt, you walked up to a boy and asked the same question you’d been asking everyone.
"Do you know Lee Heeseung by any chance?" you asked. The boy's eyes widened, and a big grin spread across his face.
"Yes, I do! For what reason?" the boy quickly replied. For the first time, someone knew who he was.
"Do you know where he is then?" you inquired, hoping he could help.
"I do. I’m close friends with him. Come, I’ll show you where he is," the boy replied as you followed him, waving to Karina goodbye.
As the two of you awkwardly made up the long staircase, you arrived at the rooftop of the school. When the boy opened the door, a lonely figure sat by the table, reading a book.
"Heeseung!" the boy called out, causing the figure, supposedly Heeseung, to turn around.
"What, Jungwon?" Heeseung raised his eyebrow, quickly glancing at you and then back at Jungwon.
"YN was looking for you," Jungwon quickly said, nudging you to speak. Heeseung obviously knew who you were, known for dating Jiho and your soft-delicate visuals.
You walked towards him awkwardly, “Uhm…can we talk privately?” Slightly glancing at Jungwon, signaling him to leave quietly. As Jungwon left quietly, you cleared your throat.
“So…” you started off a bit nervous, “I need some help?”
"What help?" Heeseung answered a bit coldly, “If it’s anything studying related, I’m not interested-”
"I need help dating," you blurted, realizing what you had just said.
"What?" Heeseung gave you a puzzled look, "Dating what?"
"I lied to Jiho. Okay, I don’t have interest in you or even Jiho. I lied to him saying that I’m meeting you," you spilled the news. Heeseung had an empty look on his face as you tried to read his expression.
“Why me?” Heeseung arched his eyebrow.
“You were the first name I saw,” you explained, “So can you fake date me? I need it, please,” you pleaded, hoping he would accept your request.
"No, I’m not interested," he turned around, quickly getting his book to start reading again. Your jaw dropped, no one had ever rejected you like that.
"What?" you spat, feeling terrible that you got rejected for the first time.
"I’m not interested in you or in dating. So, I strongly believe that I shouldn’t do it," he said, quickly focusing his attention on his book.
“I’ll do anything!” you begged, feeling desperate.
"Anything?" Heeseung quickly averted his attention to you, dropping his book slightly to make eye contact with you.
"Yes, anything. I’ll do anything," you replied, hoping he would accept it.
"Then introduce me to her," Heeseung answered. You looked confused.
"Who's her?" you raised your eyebrow.
Heeseung’s cheek slightly blushed, it was the first time you saw him so embarrassed. “Karina,” he mumbled under his breath. Suddenly it clicked—he was interested in Karina, your best friend.
You gave an eager look, “Deal! I’ll introduce you to her after all of the fake dating.” You pulled out your hand.
"Deal," Heeseung replied, shaking your hand.
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A  FEW DAYS LATER, YOU FIND YOURSELF in the convenience store, an unexpected place for someone like you—a popular girl to be at. Your outfit was simpler than usual, baggy gray sweats and a white tank top, with your hair thrown up in a messy high ponytail and an oversized jacket completing the look.
You scan the snack aisle, contemplating your choices, when the doorbell chimes, signaling a customer had entered. Your heart thumps as you recognize the last person you expected to encounter—Heeseung. He's dressed in simple gray sweatpants and a black hoodie, his messy hair somehow adding to his charm.
Your eyes lock momentarily before you both awkwardly shuffle towards each other. "What brings you here?" you ask, surprised to find him in a convenience store at 2 am.
"Why are you up so late?" he counters, swiftly turning the interrogation on you.
"I couldn't sleep. What's your excuse?" you reply.
"Studying," he responds matter-of-factly, grabbing an energy drink before swiftly checking out and leaving. You hurry after him, catching up as he strides down the street.
"Studying late? That's a first," you mutter to yourself, gazing up at the night sky.
"I don’t want to flunk my classes, unlike you," he retorts, avoiding your gaze.
"I'm not that hopeless," you roll your eyes.
"Yeah, you are," he quips, taking a sip of his drink.
"Hey!" you playfully threaten, pulling back your arm as if to hit him. But then something unexpected happens—you catch sight of Heeseung's smile, genuine and endearing. You quickly shake off any wayward thoughts; after all, you're just his so-called “girlfriend”.
"Where do you live?" you inquire, trying to change the subject.
"Stalker much?" Heeseung teases.
"Shut up," you retort, rolling your eyes.
"I live in the house near the college," he answers, disposing of his empty can.
"Do you walk to school?" you ask, trying to prolong the conversation.
"Yeah," he replies.
"Then... do you want to walk together tomorrow?" you suggest, stopping in the quiet and empty streets.
"Walk together?" he repeats, surprised.
You nod and quickly add, "Yeah, you know, for you know..."
Heeseung considers for a moment before agreeing, "Sure."
"Great! I'll come by your place at 7 am since school starts at 7:30!" you smile, remembering to ask for his number. He inserts it into your phone, adding, "Don't blow up my phone."
"I'm not that obsessed with you," you retort.
"I think you are," he jokes.
"In your dreams," you shoot back.
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YOU FOUND YOURSELF STANDING OUTSIDE Heeseung's door, feeling an awkward knot tighten in your stomach as you waited, fingers fidgeting nervously. After what seemed like hours, the door swung open to reveal a woman, likely Heeseung's mother.
"Hi, who are you?" she inquired, her eyes curious but welcoming.
"I'm YN LN," you replied, managing a warm smile despite your nerves. "A friend of Heeseung's."
"Heeseung's friend?" Her expression softened into a delighted grin. "I didn't realize Heeseung had such a pretty friend. I'm Heeseung's mother. Just call me Mrs. Lee."
"Mom..." Heeseung's voice interrupted, his presence suddenly beside you as he quickly shuffled to put on his shoes.
"Heeseung, she seems like a sweet and pretty girl," Mrs. Lee remarked before Heeseung darted, closing the door behind him before his mother could say anything else.
"Your mother seems really nice," you commented, attempting to ease the tension.
"Mhm," Heeseung mumbled, his attention already diverted to his book that he quickly pulled out from his backpack. 
With a pointed look, you reached out your hand, silently urging him to remember.
Heeseung sighed, rolling his eyes in mild exasperation, but he relented, tucking the book away and clasping your hand in his. The touch sent a jolt through you, a feeling you couldn't quite grasp.
"So..." you began, eager to break the silence. "Where's your class?"
"Class 3-B," he replied shortly, his gaze fixed ahead as if unwilling to meet your eyes.
"Mine's right next door." you exclaimed, hoping to inject some enthusiasm into the conversation. "Perfect! Do you know what this means?"
"What?" Heeseung's response was clipped, his tone guarded.
"That I can come over to your class during lunch!" you declared with a wide grin, trying to lighten the mood.
"I eat on the rooftop, alone." he added, emphasizing the word alone.
"Ah, I forget you’re a loner," you teased gently.
"At least I'm productive with my free time," he retorted.
"Well, today we're together!" you suggested brightly and then with a smirk you whispered, "And I can introduce you to... Karina." The mention of your best friend's name made Heeseung blush slightly.
"Shut up," he groaned, moving to cover your mouth with his free hand just in case you would say anything else.
"Like I want to-" feeling a sudden hard squeeze in your hand "Ow..."
"Now shut up before I squeeze harder," Heeseung warned, though there was a hint of genuine threat in his tone.
"You're no fun," you muttered. Eventually, you arrived at the school, fingers still intertwined as you drew curious whispers from the hallway.
"YN and Heeseung, dating? No way..." you heard a girl whisper by the lockers, causing a flush of embarrassment to color your cheeks. When you reached Heeseung's classroom, you reluctantly released his hand, noticing the tension in his posture as he leaned against the doorframe.
"See you later?" you asked, "I'll be on the rooftop during break."
"Alright..." Heeseung's response was hesitant, but then came an unexpected word that caught you off guard. "...baby." The pet name hung in the air.
"R-right... anyway, bye..." you stammered, feeling a rush of different emotions. You'd been in relationships before, but you were never so flustered for such small things like that. Could it be... you weren't falling for him, right?
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HEESEUNG SETTLED AT THE EMPTY TABLE on the rooftop, his gaze drifting across the school grounds. The rooftop held a special meaning for him, offering a quiet place to read, barely visited by others.
“Heeseung!” Your voice sliced through the silence, drawing his attention. He glanced up to see you approaching, two lunches in hand.
With a bright grin, you placed the meals in front of him. “I brought lunch!”
"Thanks," Heeseung replied , his tone cool as he examined the homemade kimbap. As you both sat down, awkwardness settled between you, by the avoidance of eye contact.
Summoning his courage, Heeseung brought a question that had lingered in his mind for months. "Why did you like Choi Jiho?"
Your eyes widened at the unexpected, catching you off guard. You paused, hesitating with how to respond.Memories of Jiho flooded your mind. You had forgotten about him for the past 4 days due to Heeseung being on your mind 24/7.
You cleared your throat, summoning a bitter lie to your lips. "I... uh, he was nice, I guess."
"Did Jiho even like you back?" Heeseung's question cut through the air. That’s when you realized something. You remembered the way Jiho would never defend you in any moment or barely spend time with you. And the time when he did? He would always be on his phone. You realized how stupid you were as you thought the moments where he just wanted attention from the public by kissing you or flirting with you meant that he loved you. 
"I... I don't know," you admitted. Deep down, you knew the painful reality—that Jiho had used you.
"Oh, okay..." Heeseung responded, sensing the weight of your words. "So, let's change the top—"
"I know he didn't like me," you interjected, your gaze drifting to the sky before meeting Heeseung's gaze. "I know he was the worst boyfriend I could ask for."
Confusion flickered across Heeseung's features at your sudden confession.
"I was blind. I regret it," you murmured, your gaze falling to your lap. "But it's in the past."
Heeseung regarded you with his usual stern and cold look. "Then why did you tell Jiho you were meeting someone else?"
"Because... I wanted to prove I was happier now," you muttered, grappling with your tumultuous emotions.
"Are you?" Heeseung's gaze bore into yours.
"I... I think I am," you replied
"You 'think'?" Heeseung pressed, his tone firm.
"I'm happier than before," you insisted, though the vagueness of your answer hung in the air.
"That's not specific," Heeseung challenged.
"I can't be specific," you confessed, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Because I don't know, at all."
"Are you sure?" Heeseung persisted.
"Heeseung, it's my feelings, yes I'm sure," you asserted.
"I'm just physically and mentally curious, so it allured me to—" Heeseung began, but you cut him off.
"Okay, I think that's enough. The bell's going to ring soon. Text me later!" With that, you rose abruptly, snatching your lunch bag and offering a quick wave before descending the stairs back to class.
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HEESEUNG LAY ON  HIS BED,  staring up at the ceiling. He knew he should be studying, but your words about Jiho lingered in his mind. "I'm happier than before." Why was he even pondering such things? Lost in thought, he was jolted back to reality by a faint buzz from his phone. Retrieving it, he found a message from you.
YN LN: heeseung!! all my friends rejected me to go to the mall TT, so wanna go together?? ><
Heeseung paused, a moment of surprise flashing across his features. You were asking him to go to the mall with you? It felt almost like you were asking him out. He composed himself and replied:
Heeseung: Sure. Send location and time, I’ll be there.
Putting down his phone, he realized the weight of his agreement. He had just agreed to go on a date with you. And now, he needed to get ready. Hastily, he rummaged through his closet, seeking out a suitable outfit. Opting for his lone stylish varsity jacket paired with jeans, he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tidy it up.
Rushing to the mall, he found you leaning against a store wall, your attention fixed on your phone. As he approached, a cupid seemed to strike him with an arrow as his cheeks flushed. The simplicity of your outfit and the gentle cascade of your hair rendered you utterly captivating.
You looked up, catching sight of Heeseung's slightly stunned expression, and greeted him with a warm smile, gesturing for him to join you.
"Hi," Heeseung muttered, still awestruck by your beauty.
"Hi!" you returned the greeting with equal warmth. "I just need to buy some makeup for my friends, or maybe myself, and possibly shop around! Anything you need?"
"Not necessarily," Heeseung replied, scanning the mall.
"Okay then, follow me," you said, seizing his arm and leading him to the nearest makeup store. Arriving at the lip product section, you perused the selection of lipsticks, lip glosses, and lip tints. Grabbing a random lip tint, you turned to Heeseung.
"Can I try it on you? I need to see if it looks good on a person," you suggested.
"What? When did I sign up for this?" Heeseung sighed.
"Please," you pleaded, giving him your best pout. "I can erase it right after."
"Fine."
With careful precision, you applied the tint to his lips. The warmth of his breath brushed against your cheeks and neck, sending a flurry of sensations through you. Your heart raced as you admired his perfectly shaped lips, now tinted with color. After smoothing out any unevenness, you stepped back to admire the look.
"Hmm... I think this works," you concluded, grabbing the new tint to go check out and pay for it.
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YOU SAVORED THE SWEET TASTE OF vanilla ice cream as you took a bite, sitting side by side with Heeseung on the bench outside the convenient store where you first met. He listened attentively as you shared stories about your friends and family.
"And then Giselle told me—" Your sentence was cut short as Heeseung's fingers delicately wiped a smudge of ice cream from the corner of your lips.
"Mhm?" He hummed softly, encouraging you to continue. Your heart fluttered at his touch, beating rapidly in your chest.
"...y-yeah," you stammered, trying to regain your composure, your gaze drifting to the hues of the sunset painting the sky in shades of blue and orange.
"Are you done with your story?" Heeseung inquired, to which you nodded hastily. You weren't finished, but another word might turn you into a flustered mess.
After a brief silence, you suggested, "How about we go for a walk by the Han River?" Heeseung agreed with a nod, and soon you found yourselves strolling side by side along the riverbank, the gentle sound of water trickling in the background adding to the peaceful atmosphere.
Unexpectedly, Heeseung asked, "Are you going to the dance?" It was a question he wouldn't normally ask.
"The dance?" you raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by his inquiry.
"Yeah, the school dance?" Heeseung clarified, his expression tinged with skepticism.
"Oh, well, yeah," you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment as you remembered his feelings for Karina. He didn't like you, so why did you allow yourself to hope for something more?
"Is Karina going?" Heeseung continued, and you struggled to find your voice, your throat suddenly dry.
"O-oh, uhm, I think she's going..." you managed to say, the reality of your situation crashing down on you like a wave. Foolish fantasies had consumed you for the past five days, but now you bit your lip to stave off the embarrassment and tears threatening to surface.
"I think I'm tired. I'm gonna go home now. Bye, Heeseung," you forced a small smile before turning away, walking in the opposite direction. Heeseung watched you go, a confused expression clouding his features as you moved farther and farther away.
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LEANING AGAINST THE WALL, you found yourself lost in thoughts of Heeseung, the person who was on your mind day in and day out. Why did it bother you so much if he had feelings for your best friend, Karina? Why did his presence hold such sway over you?
"YN?" Winter's voice broke through your trail of thoughts,snapping you back to reality.
"Oh, sorry, I was zoning out," you replied, trying to shake off the distraction.
"You've been distant all day. Is everything okay?" Ningning's concern was evident in her voice.
"Just tired, didn't get much sleep last night," you reassured them with a forced smile, hoping they wouldn't press further.
"Are you sure?" Giselle's skepticism lingered, her gaze searching yours.
"It's nothing, just life being complicated," you offered, trying to reassure their worries.
"If you need to talk, we're here for you," Karina chimed in, her comforting touch on your hands a familiar gesture she usually did. How you longed to confess and tell them about Heeseung and the jumble of emotions you felt and fought with, but the fear of ruining your relationships with both him and Karina kept you quiet.
At that moment, it came to you: you were in love with Heeseung. It had to be a mistake right? You could never like someone like Heeseung.  The way your heart thumped when Heeseung did small actions like hold your hand or even wipe off anything from your mouth.
 Yet, you couldn't shake the fear, the fear of history repeating itself with someone like Jiho, selfish and foolish. What was the point of falling for someone who didn't accept your feelings and liked someone else
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HEESEUNG HAD REHEARSED EVERY WORD, every breath, for the moment he would finally summon the courage to ask you out for dinner. With trembling fingers, he reached for his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. The weight of his nerves pressed down on him as he prepared to take the risk.
As the phone rang, his heart raced, the sound of your voice on the other end sending a jumble of emotions through him "Hello?" you answered, your voice like music and beauty to his ears.
"Hi..." Heeseung replied, his voice betraying his unease.
"Why did you call me?" you asked, curiosity tinged but yet your voice sounded heavy and drained. Heeseung couldn't help but notice the change in your tone for the past days, wondering if he had somehow caused it. Had he done something wrong? 
"I was just wondering if... uhm... you wanted to go get dinner tonight together?" Heeseung's voice faltered slightly, the weight of his question hanging in the air.
"Dinner tonight?" Your voice held a hint of confusion, but there was also a spark of interest. "When and where?" you inquired.
"At the Japanese place down the block, at 6?" Heeseung suggested, hoping you would agree.
"Sure, I'll see you at 6 then," you replied, your voice brightening slightly.
"Right, anyways, bye!" Heeseung quickly ended the call, a rush of happiness coursing through him. He had done it. He asked you out for dinner.
With a sense of pride, Heeseung flopped onto his bed, his phone resting on his chest as. a wide grin spread across his face. He replayed the conversation in his mind, excited for the evening of day. 
Meanwhile, on the other end of the line, you couldn't contain your excitement. Heeseung. Lee Heeseung. had. Asked. you. out. to. dinner. You, YN LN.  You couldn't help but squeal with delight into your pillow.
Eager to make a good impression, you jumped out of bed and rushed to your closet, rummaging through your clothes in search of the perfect outfit for the occasion. 
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HEESEUNG SAT NERVOUSLY, tapping the table as he waited for you to arrive. Within minutes, you rushed in and quickly spotted him.
"Hi!" you greeted with a smile, settling down at the table.
"Hi," he smiled back (inside you felt a flutter at how cute his smile was). You both looked at the menu and ordered as the waiter approached. After eating, you quietly walked outside, enjoying the cool evening air.
The dark, cloudless sky revealed a glimmering array of stars. You admired the view, unaware that Heeseung was watching you, captivated by your beauty.
"The stars are so pretty," you remarked in awe.
"Mhm," he replied, still focused on you. Suddenly, you felt his fingers gently tuck a stray hair behind your ear. Your face flushed as butterflies fluttered in your stomach.
"I have a question, YN..." Heeseung began, and you turned to him, curious.
"Do you... want to go to the dance?" he asked. Your heart raced, your stomach churned, and your head spun. He had just asked you to the dance.
"T-the dance?" you stuttered.
"Yeah... I mean, just as... you know, for visual purposes," he tried to clarify.
"Right..." you nodded, agreeing. "I'll go with you." Heeseung's face lit up with a big grin as you accepted his invitation.
"That's great! I'll, um... see you at the dance then," Heeseung said with a small smile and a wave as you both went your separate ways, heading home with a light heart.
As you walked home, your mind buzzed with excitement. The thought of going to the dance with Heeseung made your heart skip a beat. You couldn't help but replay the moment he asked you, feeling a rush of happiness each time. It was like a dream come true, and you couldn't wait for the night of the dance to arrive.
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WEEKS FLEW BY, each one filled with anticipation, excitement, and a series of dates. Finally, the much-anticipated day of the dance had arrived. It had been six weeks since you eagerly marked this date on your calendar. Reflecting on the past four months since you met Heeseung, you knew deep down that you were head over heels in love with him. The moment he asked you to the dance, those feelings intensified.
"Do you think this dress is pretty enough?" you asked, twirling in your knee-length black dress adorned with delicate lace details, a sweetheart neckline, and spaghetti straps.  The dress hugged your figure perfectly.
"It's gorgeous," Ningning complimented, deftly assisting with your hair.
"It's perfect, just like you," Winter reassured, adjusting your dress with care.
"Easy for you to say, with Beomgyu as your date," you teased, prompting laughter from your friends.
"And you have Heeseung," Winter smiled, smoothing out the fabric of your dress.
"You two are so cute together," Giselle teased, earning a blush from you.
"I love you guys," you said, feeling grateful for their support as you shared a group hug.
"Even if I'm dating a man, you'll always be my number one," Winter jokes, lightening the mood as you head to Karina's car.
Upon arriving at the dance, the lively atmosphere was perfect. Laughter, music, and chatter filled the room as people talked, danced, and enjoyed themselves. Spotting Heeseung entering the room, you felt a rush of excitement.
He looked perfect in his suit, his hair perfectly styled. Rushing over to him, you greeted him with a beaming smile.
"Heeseung!" you exclaimed. Heeseung looked up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. I
"You look amazing, YN," Heeseung complimented, his smile genuine.
"Thanks, but you're the one who looks stunning," you replied, feeling your heart flutter as you took in his appearance. "Come on, let's grab some snacks and go have fun!"
The next two hours were filled with laughter, dancing, and cherished moments spent with Heeseung and your friends. However, it was until you excused yourself to the bathroom, to then meet Jiho.
"YN," Jiho's voice cut through the noise, sending a chill down your spine.
"What do you want, Jiho?" you asked, your tone laced with irritation.
"Are you here with your 'so-called' boyfriend, Heeseung?" Jiho taunted, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Yes, and what's it to you?" you retorted, your patience wearing thin.
“Yeah there is.” his smirk widened, “Don’t act stupid, I knew everything.” 
“God I hate you Jiho.”  you spat, feeling your anger rise.
"Come on, YN. Admit you still love me, and everything will go back to normal," Jiho sneered.
“I don’t even like you anymore, Jiho.”  you said firmly, trying to keep your composure.
"Oh, really? Maybe this will change your mind," Jiho said, leaning in closer. You felt his fingers slip into your waist, his grip firm and tight. You felt his face leaning closer to yours. You quickly stepped back and pushed him aside. 
“Are you fucking crazy?” you yelled. 
“YN, why are you so pissed? Not like you like anyone.”  Jiho's eyes bore into yours, a smirk playing on his lips.
“I don’t want to fucking kiss you,” you glared, “Now fuck off please.” 
“Why is it because of Heeseung? Your fake boyfriend? God, he probably doesn’t even like you YN. He only likes you because you're popular.” he laughed. Your heart sank at his cruel words. The words stung as you heard each word. Heeseung was just a stupid fake boyfriend you had. The two of you had never had a real relationship. A real love. Was Heeseung just playing with your feelings? Did Heeseung even love you like how much you loved him? 
"I hate you, Jiho," you whispered before leaving the party alone, your heart felt heavy. 
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YOU SPENT HOURS lying in bed, staring out the rain-splattered window, your cheeks damp from the relentless stream of tears. Days had passed since the dance, and you hadn't mustered the strength to leave the confines of your home. 
"YN, you've been here for hours," Karina's voice broke through the silence, her concern evident as she entered your room. 
"Why didn't you text me?" 
"Phone died," you muttered, burying your face deeper into the sheets.
"Tell me what's wrong," Karina urged gently, taking a seat beside you. 
"I don't know," you confessed, your voice barely audible. 
"Come on," Karina coaxed, her comforting presence offering a glimmer of solace. 
"Okay, fine," you relented, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Jiho said some awful things to me at the dance. Now I'm a wreck, and I can't face Heeseung. I'm in love with him, and it's tearing me apart." 
Karina's eyes widened at the torrent of emotions pouring out. "And you kept this from me all this time?" 
"Karina, I didn't know what to do," you admitted, your voice choking with emotion. "I thought Heeseung felt the same way, but then Jiho made me doubt everything."
"How does Jiho know anything? He's not Heeseung," Karina retorted, frustration evident in her tone. "He's just trying to mess with your head." 
"But what if he's right? What if Heeseung was just pretending all along?" you sighed, a heavy weight settling in your chest. 
"YN," Karina's voice softened, her touch gentle as she sought to comfort you. "How do you know Heeseung doesn't like you? Have you talked to him?" 
"I haven't," you admitted, uncertainty clouding your thoughts.
"Then how can you be so sure?" Karina questioned, her eyes searching yours. "Heeseung cares about you, YN. He was worried sick after the dance. He searched everywhere for you and even left the party early out of concern."
"Are you serious?" you asked, a glimmer of hope flickering in your eyes. 
"Dead serious," Karina affirmed, her sincerity unwavering. "Talk to him, YN. You'll see." 
"But what if I'm wrong?" you hesitated, your fear holding you back. "Just trust me on this," Karina reassured, squeezing your hand gently. "Talk to Heeseung. You'll thank me later." Karina offered you a reassuring smile before enveloping you in an embrace.
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HEESEUNG WAS SERIOUSLY DEAD WORRIED about you. He thought you were possibly hit by some car or even worse kidnapped. His thoughts wandered as he tried to think of all the possibilities you were. You stopped even coming to school for weeks.
The memory of the dance replayed in his mind like a broken record, haunting him with unanswered questions. Your sudden disappearance after excusing yourself to the bathroom left him questionable and restless. Desperately, he asked your friends as your friends only left him shrugs and quietness making him uneasy of the situation.
When you finally returned after a week-long absence, Heeseung couldn't help but notice the change in you. You awfully looked tired and you had eyebags. And the most important change, you were avoiding Heeseung. Was it something he had done to mess things up?
Heeseung sat at his usual spot on the rooftop, gazing out at the view, trying to get his thoughts out.
"Look who it is, Lee Heeseung," a voice pierced through the silence, pulling Heeseung from his reverie. Turning, he found Jiho leaning casually against the stairway exit, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Heeseung's girlfriend, huh?" Jiho taunted, his words hitting Heeseung like a sudden blow.
"What did you do to YN?" Heeseung's voice was edged with a mixture of anger and concern, his gaze sharp.
"Nothing much, just a little truth-telling," Jiho chuckled, his demeanor full of arrogance. 
"What truth?" Heeseung's tone was laced with urgency, his fists clenched in frustration.
“Just a few things that need to be said. Like how you guys are just dating, nothing more than that.”
Heeseung's jaw tightened as the weight of Jiho's words settled in, his mind reeling with disbelief and anger.
"Do you even know why YN hates you?" Heeseung spat, his voice seething with contempt.
"Why don't you tell me?" Jiho's smirk widened.
"Cause you’re truly an awful person” Heeseung retorted, his patience wearing thin.
“Oh really?” Jiho teased, “I didn’t know.”
Jiho's mocking laughter only fueled Heeseung's rage, his frustration exploding into action as he delivered a swift punch to Jiho's jaw.
"You're really undeserving of her," Heeseung's words echoed in the empty space.
“You could punch me as many times, I don’t care.” Jiho smiled. 
“I would but actually I don’t want to see your ugly face, so fuck off.” Heeseung stormed out of the rooftop leaving Jiho alone on the ground.
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IT WAS 1 AM WHEN YOU FOUND YOURSELF at the convenience store, clad in your most comfortable clothes, not even caring if people saw you. The rush of cold air from the conditioner greeted you as you stepped inside, scanning the assortment of snacks. The scent of sweet delights filled your senses, tempting you to buy more. You reached for a snack when the chime of the door signaled someone's arrival.
Looking up, you were met with the sight of Heeseung standing across the store, his gaze fixed on you. It felt like deja vu, reminiscent of the first time you laid eyes on him. Your throat went dry, memories of Jiho's words echoing in your mind: "He probably doesn’t even like you." Anxious, you bit your lip as Heeseung approached.
"Can we talk outside?" Heeseung's voice broke through the tension. With a quiet nod, you followed him out of the store.
"YN, what's going on?" Heeseung's concern was evident as he confronted you, hoping you would answer honestly.
"Heeseung, it's nothing," you lied
"It's not nothing," Heeseung persisted, his tone firm.
"Okay, fine, I'll tell you. I fell in love with you, but then Jiho made me doubt everything. I thought you probably didn’t even like me, maybe you liked Karina instead. What was the point of being with you if I'm only going to hurt myself?" The words spilled out in a rush, leaving you empty.. Heeseung froze at your confession, disbelief in his expression.
"You like me?" Heeseung's eyebrow arched in surprise.
"I know you don't like me—" Before you could finish, Heeseung silenced you with a soft kiss. His lips were soft and perfect.You felt his fingers sliding into your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. Your lips were moving in sync, in the same passion, kissing each other back. You felt his fingers intertwined with yours, drawing soft circles on the back of your hand.
Pulling away, breathless, you attempted to speak, but Heeseung beat you to it. "I like you a lot, YN. I was in denial of my feelings for months, but I realized I was actually in love with you." You widen your eyes at his confession
"Heeseung, you're not lying, right?" suspicion tinged your words.
"Do you think I would ever lie to you?" Heeseung chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear, a gesture that he would always done 
"No, but it all seems non-real," you confessed.
Heeseung's laughter, the sound you cherished the most, filled the air. "Then, will you be my real girlfriend, YN LN?"
"Of course, any day I'll choose you," you smiled, leaning in for another kiss. 
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MONTHS HAD PASSED and you found yourself in a state of bliss you never imagined possible. Seated on the rooftop with Heeseung, your fingers intertwined, you gazed out into the view before you, the cool breeze enveloping you in a sense of serenity.
"Look how far we've come," you remarked, a smile gracing your lips as you watched Heeseung absentmindedly draw small patterns on your palm.
"Yeah," Heeseung nodded, his touch gentle and comforting.
"I love you, Heeseung," you whispered softly, your words carrying the weight of your affection.
"I love you more," Heeseung replied in a tender whisper, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck as he leaned in to press a series of delicate kisses along its curve.
"Heeseung, that tickles!" you laughed, squirming slightly at the sensation.
"This is your punishment for getting a 60% on the exam," Heeseung teased, his tone playful yet teasing.
"Hey, I'm not some nerd like you!" you retorted, playfully poking his side.
"Nerd?" Heeseung chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
"A cute nerd," you amended with a grin, your heart swelling with affection.
"And you're my cute princess," Heeseung declared, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your lips, his love for you shining brightly in his eyes. You truly were in love with Heeseung, and you weren’t going to deny it.
3K notes · View notes
mygnolia · 4 months ago
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it’s cupid, stupid! | lhs
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୨୧ SYNOPSIS -›  To hell with Lee Heeseung, you couldn't find someone you hated more than the boy who's by your side no matter what. You figured that maybe the summer before university would be the best way to finally let go of him, and to leave the hate you have in your childhood- but no. What do you mean you have to spend ALL summer with him?
୨୧ PAIR  -› golden boy!heeseung x fem-pres!reader
୨୧ GENRE -› fluff, pining, hurt/angst, slow burn (oops), bakery au, summer au, post highschool au | ୨୧ TROPES -› (slightly one sided) enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers | ୨୧ WC -› 20k (jfc)
୨୧ INCLUDES -› CURSING, food mentions, a self indulgent characterization of my grandmother but she’s also everyone else’s in this fic, the bakery has foods from like 40 different cultures, both mc and hee get burned but it’s tiny, heeseung’s parents r lowk overachieving assholes this is NOT a reflection of anyone irl, ew so much banter, heeseung and mc drink from the same straw ik that’s an ick for some LOL, underaged alcohol consumption (and being drunk)…sorry
୨୧ REN SAYS... thank u thank u thank u peng aka @jlheon for beta reading this in one sitting for me!!! your comments were so cute i'm so glad you enjoyed reading it <3
plsplsplspls reblog and send feedback/asks if you liked this!
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Lee Heeseung might only have eleven characters to his name, but they spelt trouble in forty different ways. 
It starts with the same old Lee Heeseung spilling his applesauce on you in the first grade, with his cup of mushy lukewarm grossness splattered across your new pants with glittery stars on them. You shriek when it happens, frantically wiping off the mess and yelling at his Lightning McQueen lunchbox with all of the bottled up rage a six year old can have. His eyes are wide, but all his friends laugh and say girls are so angry all the time, so he stops himself from apologizing. Which, you think his friends were being a little rude to all girls alike, but what mattered was that Lee Heeseung never ended up saying sorry. 
But that’s just one way of spelling it. He hit you in the face with a ball, ran into you when your knee was scraped and you almost were bursting into tears, and tripped you in the lunch line. 
Did the universe hate you, or did he? 
You figured it was the latter.
Heeseung’s been stuck to you your entire life with some extra strong adhesive that you can’t seem to get off. You wish you could get some of the same glue that stuck you two to the hip and attach his tongue to the nearest streetlight, but things almost never worked in your favor. If you could catch him, just once, like one of the dumb boys who lick frozen poles in winter, you’d be satisfied. 
The blackmail would trump any sort of Heeseung related adversity your elementary grade self had to deal with. 
Unfortunately, the years have rendered you no protection against him, and in the small victories you find yourself in, you also see Heeseung right next to you. The exam you aced was topped by Heeseung with a 98%, just a bit higher than your 96%, and it couldn’t even feel good to talk about it because you knew all your friends talked about was how he did the best. Better than you. 
There was no accomplishment anymore when Heeseung was around. 
Heeseung was perfect in everyone’s eyes, a golden boy in their praises and a role model for their parents. If people didn’t want to be with Lee Heeseung, people wanted to be Lee Heeseung. That? That was something you hated. How could people want to be someone who you couldn’t stand?
Summer is a new slate- a very humid new beginning for you to get away from people at school and hang out with only your closest of friends and to ghost any new message you get. That is, if you choose to. Or, you could have an objectively more “hot girl summer” where you go to pools and post pictures on social media and talk about strangers on the internet. Unfortunately, none of those things seemed to be a viable option, with your friends in different countries and in cute swimsuits. Your visits to your grandmother had been so pushed back with all of the finals on top of exams and end of the year festivities that it had been a while since you last saw her. Spending time with her this summer was your number one priority- your friends could wait a few weeks to hang out again. 
You spend your first Saturday at her house making pastries with oddly reminiscent spices and a sprinkle of your childhood within every slice. If there’s one person you can trust to stay the same, it’s your dear grandma, with her decade old recipes and hard to find ingredients that she sometimes makes you go on a manhunt for. It’s endearing in a way to know that her cooking will never change, and maybe it’s the reason you make an effort to visit when you can. You love your grandma, and you always have, because she’s the only true constant in a world that’s constantly changing. 
You’ve made a feast by the time the sun barely peeks from the edge of the ground. You’ve measured countless spoons of sauces and powdery substances that all look the same and you're surprised the sauce you burned still tastes good. She’s finished setting up the table, and you two can finally dig into your favorite authentic cooking. Even if you see her quite frequently, she doesn’t always cook. Sometimes it’s leftovers, sometimes it’s take-out. But today was different. 
After you’ve both finished, your grandma hands you plastic wrapped dishes filled with mere fractions of what you two have made. She tells you to go to the Lee’s down the road, and your eyes narrow slightly. Lee is also the last name of Heeseung. So, what would be the odds it was him? 
Not likely. Heeseung would think he’s too cool to live in an area like this. His parents are probably minted- and if not loaded, then well off. 
Well, you were 100% wrong! Lee Heeseung does seem to live here, and you will admit the porcelain figures of calico cats in the dark as shapeless silhouettes were a little frightening at first. Your grandma washed away your previous concerns with a “Of course they’ll be home! Heeseung always answers the door for me.” and pushes you out of the house to deliver the two boxes of leftovers that smell delectable. If you weren’t so full, you’d just take a different route and have it for yourself. 
You can hear the ‘it’s our neighbor!’ And a pair of footsteps tumbling down the carpeted stairs to answer the doorbell. 
Lee fucking Heeseung in his sock and pajama clad glory. How punchable he looked in this very moment, with his warm brown dyed hair and white t-shirt. 
“I have leftovers. For your family.” His widened eyes immediately go back to their normal state, and he reaches out to meet your offering halfway. 
“You live here?” He asks, in a calm, civil manner that you don’t think you’ve ever seen with him. 
“Grandma does- I’m just her errand…runner.” You respond, in a not so smooth way. You wince internally at how choppy your words come out, but make no further effort to fix it. By now, it’s Heeseung who’s holding the styrofoam boxes. Your job is done. “Do you live here?” 
He nods solemnly, a smile filled with a smidgen of pride dusted across his features. He loves this house- Heeseung’s been in it his entire life, and it’s obvious the memories that have stayed with him since childhood make him far from ashamed to say it’s where he’s grown up all these years. But you? Could you say the same thing about the simple abode you went home to everyday? 
Maybe not. Another reason why Heeseung had it perfect, and another reason to resent him. 
You sighed to ease the tension that had condensed between the two of you. His mom wondered what took him so long, and he wondered the same question. 
Before you’re about to turn away, he blurts, “Thanks for the food.” You turn around, nodding a silent ‘of course,’ and walking away. 
At that very moment, there was no reason to hate Lee Heeseung. But as you walked away and back to your house, you hated the calico cats and the gate you entered through the house he went back inside to. 
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The nostalgic board game high with your grandma does not last for long. As if the universe needed another reason to hate you, the unfortunate truth was that there was always more in store when you were subjected to a bad day, a bad week, or even a case of bad luck. You come back to the mahogany door to terrible news- your grandmother is sick. You rush out of her house the same day with the names of medicinal cures scribbled on a notecard and an urgency in your step. You buy her enough to last for the next few lifetimes, but it doesn’t matter. Anything healthy you could find in the fresh food aisle, you put in your cart, and when you came home, she was already up and sweeping the cold floors with a cough threatening to overwhelm her. 
Sometimes, you wish she didn’t overwork herself. You gently coerce her into laying on the couch, taking some of the medicine you got with a cup of warm water to ease her throat. She says nothing and you expect nothing in return for the last minute shopping you’ve done, but her eyes hold a sincere thankfulness that you know she will never speak aloud. When she’s retired to her bed, you finish unpacking the groceries and complete the mental task of chores your grandma would’ve exerted herself to finish independently. When you’ve finished, your hands are dry with soap and cleaning products, and your arms ache from the mopping, but the house is clean, and your grandma is sleeping well in the other room. You turn off the tv with one of her shows and switch off the light, heading back to your room and changing out of your clothes. By the time you crawl into your bed and charge your phone, the moon is the last thing you remember seeing before you fall asleep.
Monday comes unexpectedly, despite time still being on its course. You find yourself flipping through the cookbooks that littered the walls in your grandmother’s room, and in turn, the absolute urge to busy yourself in her passions manifested in the impulsive decision to work at her bakery. 
“Could- could I go work in the shop?” 
At first, her rejection was through scowls and furrowed eyebrows wondering why someone like you would want to fill their youthful summer days dusting surfaces with flour and kneading doughs instead of living the dream and swimming in turquoise waters. Her second rejection is easier to register. “I already have Hee helping me.” She states plainly, excusing the idea of two people in one room to run her business. Your nose scrunches up, and the temperature of your blood increases tenfold.
“Heeseung,” she clarifies, with almost too much enthusiasm. “He’s in your grade. Goes to your school, too.” She smiles, brushing a section of hair behind your ear and examining the imperfections on your skin. You frown, the obvious displeasure plastered on your features. It’s not hard to notice you don’t like what she just told you. “You don’t like him?”
“It’s whatever.” You tell her, shrugging away from her gaze and shrinking in on yourself. “I don’t care much for him.” 
What a lie! “It seems like you don’t like him.” She comments.
Of course you don’t like him. Heeseung is stuck up, arrogant, and looks past people like you- people who just aren’t as perfect as him. “I mean, why can’t I help you? Shouldn’t Heeseung….rest for the summer?” 
“It’s fine- he’s helped me out multiple times anyways.” She concludes, closing the book she was reading previously. “I wouldn’t mind you coming down to help, I’m sure 17 year olds like you and Hee can run things by yourself.” You raise an eyebrow at both of your names mentioned, but don’t speak out against her. 
You can run it by yourself, but you won’t, simply because your grandmother seems to have an affinity for some boy you just happen to hate. Plus, if Heeseung messes up, you get all the triple chocolate cake to yourself, so you’ll pray on his downfall until then. 
Wednesday morning is when you head over to the bakery, at a much earlier time than usual. The business doesn’t open until at least an hour later, and you spend the time preparing the mixing stands and covering the sweet rolls to be baked in a light sheen of oil. When the sun shines more vibrantly in the morning sky, and the cars honk at the traffic, a ruffled head of hair enters the building, and you’re very worried that you might’ve forgotten to lock the doors. “Sorry, we’re closed!” You yell out, but Lee Heeseung’s tuft of tinted hair is already in your vicinity. 
“The real question would be why you’re here, Miss _____.” He glances towards you, curiosity glazing his eyes over. You immediately scowl at his slightly teasing tone, one that could feel even condescending if he pushed that boundary just a bit more. Lee Heeseung might objectively be better than you in the eyes of an average high schooler, but frankly, you were just the same, and he had no right to sound that amused when you woke up and came here first. It’s 8:03am, and you already found just one more reason to hate him. 
You roll your eyes, knowing that with your back turned to him, he wouldn’t notice the obvious displeasure. “I can’t help out my grandma?” 
It’s so quiet in the place that you hear him suck on a breath behind you. “She’s your grandma?” 
“Did you not remember when I dropped off the food? Oh right, you probably wouldn’t spend your time on something so…,” you pause, racking your brain for a word you think he would use. “‘insignificant.’” 
Rustling. He takes a bowl and a carton of eggs. “Don’t put words in my mouth. Sorry, it’s just so difficult to believe you’re related to her.” Were you really that detached from your culture, or was Heeseung just mean? 
Lee Heeseung’s words get right under your skin, and it makes you see red. You frown in his direction, disregarding his words and moving on with your day.  “Yeah, my grandma is nice, I just don’t know why she thinks you’re a saint.”
“She thinks I’m a saint?” And you see something for the first time, something that’s akin to stars in his eyes, and the corner of his lips turn in satisfaction. He doesn’t even comment on how you’ve let it slip that you’re jealous of their relationship. 
“Maybe in your dreams.” 
“You just said-“ 
You feel like two cats about the fight behind a dumpster, before the door jingles, and someone walks into your conversation with Heeseung. 
“Sorry, is the shop not-?”
You rush to the counter before Heeseung does, counting it as a mental victory to take the first order. 
“It is! What would you like?” It’s something else you can tell your grandma when you get home- that you’ve been starting off all the work in the bakery, and you’re ‘not sure what Heeseung really does.’
The professionalism masks the irritation on his features, and you would’ve killed to see Lee Heeseung’s frown once more. 
When the customer is done telling you his order, you make sure he gets everything he needs, fully satisfied before the ring of the door is heard once more during his departure. The corner of your lip turns up into a grin, victorious as you childishly tease your co-worker. 
“I’m going to do the most around here, and I don’t need your pretty face getting in the way of things.” 
While he denies the rest, Heeseung doesn’t quite ignore what you said about his features. 
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When noon has passed, but the sun still glares down on everyone outside, you work just as hard as the white ceiling fan providing cool air for everyone inside. You work in silence, with a playlist filling the air and adding to the ambience, as you listen to your own music through your headphones. Heeseung works without interacting with you more than what needs to be done, and rarely asks for help. He doesn’t let people down; if anything, he exceeds their expectations, but never yours. It’s been like this since the beginning, and you’re convinced it’s something personal- some wrangle ever since you two learned what cooties were that lasted until now. 
“____,” He starts, turning to you. You glance at him, waiting for the boy to continue. “Can you make the brown sugar milk tea- it’s on the-“ 
“I know where it is.” You snip.
Heeseung makes the right choice (in your opinion) to say nothing as you proceed to grab a cup and open the container of boba pearls. After you’ve taken a few orders, you move to the back of the bakery to pull the tray of matcha sheet cake onto the counter to cool. 
“Have you seen the scissors?” Heeseung asks out of nowhere, startling you from the doorway. 
Reaching for the ones you used to cut the parchment paper with, you hand the pair to him and with a mumbled ‘thank you,’ he makes his leave.
In an odd way, you’re stunned by the silence that follows. A “you suck, _____!” would be more in character for villainous Lee Heeseung than whatever just happened. But you’re way too occupied with the bakery, and go back to cutting squares in the matcha cake. 
It’s the same for the next hour until the rush ends and you get a bit more time to yourselves between orders. Heeseung agrees to wash the dishes and you clean the tables to the sound of your playlist from the speakers. 
“You have good music taste.” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth when he emerges. He wipes his hand on a white towel and you stare at him, utterly puzzled. Where’s the malice? Where’s his snarky comments?
“I’m waiting for you to tell me it’s not as good as yours, or something along those lines.” You deadpan. 
Heeseung rolls his eyes. “I’m not that mean, I can give a compliment or two when I feel like it.” 
“Oh, poor Lee Heeseung only has so much room in his heart to compliment people. How thankful should I be that you spend your daily supply of niceness on me?” You snap, cleaning off the tables. Your chest feels light and you don’t feel as angry as you did this morning, finding your digs to be more playful that serious
Blame it on the lack of sleep.
“I think you should be bowing down to me and only talking when I tell you to.” He jokes, and when you glance up, there’s a semblance of a smile on his face. “Anyways, when are you leaving?”
“Whenever you leave.” You tell him, shrugging. 
“Your grandma said she didn’t want you to stay too late but she also wanted me to take you home, and I think she’d throw a fit if you didn’t. You were dropped off this morning, right?”
“I’d die before getting into a car with you, Lee Heeseung.” 
“If I had to get into a car with you, that’s probably how I’d die.” He responds lightly. You furrow your eyebrows and rack your brain for some sort of retort that hurts Heeseung’s pride, but nothing comes up. 
“My driving skills are very good, I’ll have you know.” 
He jabs, “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
“How about, next time you come, you leave with your bumper falling off? Some bad driving, yeah?” 
Heeseung could start feeling dizzy if his eyes continue to roll around in his skull. “Sure, we’ll see what your insurance has to say about that.” 
The aroma of vanilla slips through the air, and momentarily distracts you as you make haste to get it from the ringing oven. Unfortunately, your enthusiasm spills over the rim, and when reaching inside, you feel the burn of the sheet cake as you leave it on the iron rack to cool. Heeseung doesn’t tear his eyes from the way you jump back, squeezing the tender skin between your fingers as you blow on it in puffs. 
“Are you okay? Here-“ He reaches for your hand, but gentle. “Let me see that.” Heeseung soothes the slight pain with his thumb running over the burn, and his breath cooling it down slowly. 
“I’m fine.” You tell him, slowly pulling your finger away. His gaze snaps back up at you, and you feel your disdain for him dwindle ever so slightly. Maybe the Heeseung that rushed to make sure you were okay isn’t so bad. 
“Right. You’ll be fine.” And he doesn’t know if it’s something he tells himself, or if he’s telling you, when he goes to get some ointment. 
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“A grad party? With Heeseung? Invited?” 
You can’t see him, but you almost hear Sunoo’s pout from the line. “Yeah, I don’t even know why you two fight anyways.” 
You huff, laying back down on your bed after Sunoo’s confession made you shoot up in surprise. “Have you seen him? He’s the most stuck-up annoying person ever.” 
Your friend hums. “To be honest, I don’t think you really know him.” 
“I know him plenty. And there’s nothing good about him, like, ever!” 
“You barely even talk to him, ____.” The last week proves differently, but you bite your tongue.
“I talk to him enough!” You’d defend yourself until the end of the earth. “He’s just…always around me- not like I even want him to, or he’s always hanging out with my friends, or-“
“Our friends.” 
“Well, not really.” You think hard. “They’re only friends because you and I are friends, so I’m friends with Heeseung in a distant obligatory way. And I need to keep it that way by not coming to this party.” 
“Come on!” Sunoo whines from the phone, and you laugh at his antics. “It’s a grad party, you’ll be too busy talking with everyone else to care anyways.” 
“Well, maybe for a bit.” 
“When’s the next time we’ll even be able to see each other anyways? Considering all of this college stuff.” 
You break his facade. “We’re literally going swimming in two weeks from now.” Sunoo laughs. “No, ____. Swimming is different from eating snacks and playing dumb board games.” 
He’s right, and you admit that it’ll be fun for something once last time. 
Maybe Heeseung won’t even show up. 
The next day at the bakery, you rush to ask him, almost too eager to know his answer. “Are you going to Sunoo’s party?” Please say no please please please-
“Of course. I’m his friend. You weren’t invited, or something?” His tone makes you want to light a fire on his head. 
“I’m his friend, too. I was the first person he talked to about it, so of course I was invited, and of course I’m going.” You say it as if the boy in front of you didn’t make you single handedly question your attendance last night. You say it like your demeanor never faltered, not even once. You say it like Heeseung had no say in the decision.
Because he definitely didn’t.
“I’ll see you there, then.” He smiles at you, a glint of evil in his eyes as he gauges your reaction. You return his scheming grin, frosting a slice of cake before walking out and calling the order number. When Heeseung emerges from the paper white curtains, he sees you engrossed in helping a customer pick out a few of the best options for ‘something not so sweet.’ 
When you’re done, you turn around to take a sip of your iced tea. “Really?” He starts, stirring some milk into a swirling shot of espresso. “The red bean cake is your definition of not too sweet?” Your ear-to-ear smile falls when you hear the off-handed comment from Heeseung, leaning against the counter with his taro milk tea, with close to no sugar. 
“I’m sure if they asked you, they would’ve walked out with a cake that tastes like a sponge.” You retaliate. You do your best not to look so affected, seeing as there were other people in the vicinity. It’s a bakery, you have to keep up the comforting atmosphere. 
“I don’t really think you’re the best person to offer advice for those kinds of things, unfortunately.” His tone snips at your resolve, and with every passing moment you stare at his lips and listen to his words, the more you wish to sew them together. 
“Sure, and they’ll be satisfied with eating basically paper? Your standards are also a little far-fetched.” You busy yourself with cleaning the cups and bowls from this morning, physically turning away from him. 
He walks past you and into the kitchen, but not before saying, “I’m sorry one of us has good taste.” 
You pray to every being that someone keeps Heeseung from speaking another insufferable word. 
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Sunoo’s house is as quaint as you remember, and although you don’t find yourself making the resemblance often, it suits him. With one hand occupied with holding a gift, and the other about to press the doorbell, you’re interrupted by an all too familiar voice. 
“I guess you did show up. Sucks to see my dreams didn’t come true.”
“I will throw this at you.” You motion to the neat basket in your hands.
Heeseung sighs dramatically, before continuing in the same feigned tone. “Would be a shame if Sunoo only had one gift from us.” 
“He’d understand.” You turn around to ring the doorbell, and Sunoo emerges, a bright smile on his face. He greets the both of you, and his quick side hug immediately reminds you of why you’re here. 
You will have a good time. And you won’t let any auburn haired boy ruin that. 
Despite being close to Sunoo, you’re not as close to the rest of his friends. He keeps his circle small, only with people he spends time with regularly. Which would be good for any other day, but for today, you feel almost like an outsider. Sunoo’s group of friends greet you all the same, and shower the boy behind you with affection. When you walk towards the kitchen, you catch some more of your mutual friends, and your nerves slowly ease away. You join their ongoing card game, an observer to it all as they yell in success or defeat. 
The group of people playing Taboo suddenly doubles as the six of Sunoo’s friends decide they want in. With the way you move to the floor, you’re so preoccupied with making sure there’s enough space for everyone and that all the cards are there, that you don’t realize where you’re sitting. 
Cross legged, on the ground, next to Lee Heeseung. 
You can’t get up, and you weakly protest against the many thoughts telling you that a game of Taboo with Lee Heeseung would get you so heated that everyone would see steam out of your ears by the end of the first round. 
“You know how to play?” Yuna starts to thumb through the cards, making sure all of them are placed in the right orientation. While the majority of you guys nod, a few of them shake their heads, and it prompts a quick explanation from Ryujin. 
“So, everyone gets a set of cards in a team of 3, and you have to describe it without using the words in the white box below. So for example, if my word is Vanilla, I can’t use the words bean, flavor, ice cream, extract, or chocolate.” She shows everyone the example card, and you all nod your heads. “Okay, now we divide into teams!” You tune out the rest of her words as she divides you all into sections based on where you’re sitting, and it leaves you with a twisting feeling. 
“Blue will be ____, Heeseung, and Jungwon!” 
Truly, was luck ever on your side?
You don’t have time to ponder just how horrible things are going, because Jungwon’s excitedly pulling you two close into a circle to discuss game plans. 
“Okay, just skip the cards you can’t answer, think about references rather than actual descriptions. Guys, the prize is good, Sunoo told me.” And the need to win anything reignites in your eyes, determination being your main motivation. 
Jake, Sunghoon, and Yuna go first, and guess four cards correctly. You feel the excitement coursing through the air like electricity, as everyone’s competitive spirit shows through. 
It’s finally your turn, and you volunteer to be the describer, picking up the cards with anticipation. You share a look with Heeseung and Jungwon, praying they share your wave of telepathy. 
First word- Engine. 
You scan through the words you’re not allowed to use, Jake watching over as your referee in case you slip up. 
“Okay, it’s the thing in the-“ You’re about to say car, but you pause, quickly trying to reevaluate your descriptions. The timer looms, and you feel panic settle in. “The thing that powers the…vroom vroom.” 
In Jungwon’s head, it clicks. “Engine!” You toss the card, reading the next. Egypt? 
“It’s a 3D thing, but it has three sides in north Africa.” 
“Pyramids.” Heeseung answers smoothly. 
You grin unknowingly. “Right-right, okay. Where is it?”
“Egypt.” 
“This is a Jesus related celebration-“ You continue, glancing at the hourglass as the sand slips through.
“Easter!” Jungwon says. “Christmas!” 
“The second one! It’s one of the little things you… put up!” 
“Stockings!” And you shake your head at Jungwon, goading them to think a bit more and guess. You glance up almost sheepishly, at a loss of words and stumbling over thoughts. Heeseung sighs, leaning back before looking at you again. 
“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” You huff, flicking at the card anxiously. 
“Like what? Like you can’t describe a simple word?” 
“Oh, as if you could-“
“Ornament!” And with that, the timer ends. You glare at Heeseung, hard, and if you were anything like Superman, you really would’ve burned holes through his skull. Thankfully, with Jungwon was your mediator, you don’t say anything snarky back at him, staying silent as the other groups go. 
The first round tension eases as the night carries on. As Jake and Sunghoon score 7 cards in one round, it prompts you, Heeseung, and Jungwon to come together, a jittery feeling as you sip from a can of soda and pray your brain works in tandem with both of them. 
Remembering Heeseung’s your describer, you sink in your seat a little, feeling hopelessness consume your mind- but Jungwon doesn’t let you sulk as he cheers Heeseung on. “Last round!” He says, a sparkle in his eye. The teams are so close, and despite your team having the lowest points by being the last group to go, you know you can score the 6 points needed to beat Ni-ki, Ryujin, and Sunoo. 
The hourglass is flipped, and you hold your breath. 
“Naturally occuring formation,” he says smoothly, glancing at you and Jungwon. “Hot stuff.” 
It clicks. “Volcano!” Jungwon smiles, feeling victory running through his veins. Heeseung’s lip curls up. 
“It’s the saying with too many people, ‘three’s a..” He waits for you both to finish the line. 
“Crowd!” Heeseung and you smile at each other as he continues to rush through the cards, briefly glancing over to the timer. 
He falters slightly, before lighting up. “When you’re excited, you’re on ____ 9.” You finish it quickly, burning holes into the back of his cards before he continues. You have to win. 
“Jungwon, we played this game in 2020 on Discord with the guys!” 
“Among Us.” and you laugh at the references he makes to win.
“____, it’s the 60% thing you like at the bakery.”
Your breath hitches, and you almost forget to answer until you see the way he’s looking at you. 
“Chocolate.” You mumble, and he cracks a grin again, relieved to get it in only four seconds. 
With the way he looks at the words and furrows his eyes, you worry that the sand will slip through the hourglass completely before he can finish explaining the sixth and final word. 
Heeseung chooses to deviate from the normal meaning of the words, and chooses to use a different meaning of it in order to not risk using a word on his unavailable list. “When something is more spicy than you expect, you say it has a little something to it.” 
Your heart is beating wildly, and you’re barely in the same spot as you were when you first started, leaning over and closer to Heeseung’s curly fringe. “Kick!” you yell out, and the room explodes in commotion, carefully counting the tallies under every team name. Yeji sighs as she marks down your final tally, and you stand up, all in a group hug before you even realize it. You watch Heeseung, looking up at the way his eyes are closed and his smile’s wide. The adrenaline keeps you jumping with your partners, unaware of how Sunoo observes the carefree way you cling onto his friend, and the supposed bane of your existence. When you two finally stop cheering at your long awaited victory, you shoot Heeseung a glance, noticing how he’s already looking at you with the same gears turning in his head. Although you’ve created space, he’s zoned out, and you can tell he hasn’t noticed that you two once again make eye contact. It takes a raised eyebrow from you for him to look elsewhere, absentmindedly tonguing the inside of his cheek, feeling almost embarrassed to have been so close. 
There’s a bubbling feeling in your stomach whenever you think about how he remembered- how Lee Heeseung pays attention to the little things. You push it down, because it’s nothing more than what coworkers do for each other. He’s cordial, as always. That’s all it is.
“Didn’t seem like you hated Heeseung much.” Sunoo comments, a smile puffing up his cheeks. You roll your eyes, helping him pick up some of the stray trash from the floor after the party is over. 
“Don’t even!’ You start, debating if you should throw a Dorito in his face. “It’s just for the games, he was literally insufferable every other minute.” 
Sunoo is unfortunately the victim to your back-and-forth, trying for you to see with reason but falling short to your simple petty nature. He fails to see how Heeseung has treated you, but deep down, you see it. You see the occasional stare Heeseung finds himself in with you, the frown on his features or the way he always carries himself  as if he’s somehow better than you. It’s exasperating how easily he surpasses you, and always glances back to make sure you know. The looks he gives you are deceptive, and you basically see his thoughts laid out in front of him before he turns away. You swear to Sunoo that he has it out for you, always trying to boost that inflated ego of his by showing you how much better he is at anything. 
“How are you so sure Heeseung just wants to rub it all in your face? Well, wait.” He pauses, tying a trash bag closed. “Why do you look at him so much that you catch him staring?” 
Oh. You think about it, truly emptying your brain to find a proper answer, but deep down, there was none to be found. 
“I don’t know, Sunoo,” you huff. “He just always looks at me.” 
“Maybe he wants to be friends.” 
Violently shaking your head, you smash in a water bottle, feeling a flash of confusion pass through you. “Why would he want to be friends with me? To show he’s such a nice and caring person?” The boy on the receiving end sighs, slumping to the floor in the kitchen. You stare at him, watching how Sunoo deflates before going to wash his hands in the sink. “You’re insufferable.” He calls out, laughing quietly. 
A frown makes its way onto your features unknowingly, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you truly put yourself in your friend’s shoes. 
Surely, Sunoo sees what you mean, right? There’s just no way Heeseung would want to be friends with you either- it’s not like you treat him any better than he treats you. Plus, Heeseung has had it out for you, always by your side for the best and for the worst times, somehow dampening your mood in both. 
Right?
After a tight hug from Sunoo and your efforts to lift his mood after a long day, you get in your car, a random song from your playlist coursing through the stuffy air. 
There is mutual hatred- well, maybe not hatred, but dislike. A definite dislike between you and some part time bakery employee who also happens to be the worst boy you’ve ever met. 
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You’re beginning to think that this feud between you two is a small flame that you’re shoveling piles of wood into, igniting from your own hands. 
You have no idea how to prove it, though. You can’t let yourself look like an idiot by simply being nice to him if he really has it out for you and hates you- or else he’ll get some sort of upper hand. 
Your plan goes like this; You’ll give Lee Heeseung one chance to prove himself as an arrogant and selfish person, and when it happens, it’ll be true solid evidence you have to dislike him. It’ll prove that Lee Heeseung hasn’t changed one bit, and that you were always right in your beliefs. 
You trust the universe will help you out one time, and pray for the best. 
So that’s why, when your grandmother invites you to join her at the Lee’s once again, you agree, finally getting to try not just the leftovers of Mrs. Lee’s delicious galbi recipe. 
And that’s how you're standing in front of his doorstep with a welcome mat under your feet, and a porcelain cat staring up at you from the porch. 
You hear the commotion that follows your knock, and you're greeted with a warm smile from whom you can only assume is Heeseung’s mother. After she invites you in, you meet the rest of the family, and make sure your grandmother has taken a seat. Heeseung glances at you from the stairs, before wordlessly joining the table, quickly grabbing bowls in the kitchen before coming to sit down. Everyone interacts, and you’re stuck smiling and shaking hands with his father and bowing to his grandmother, asking if there’s anything you can do to help. 
When his mother brings the steaming aromatic food over, your eyes light up. “Here, Heeseung, sit next to ____!” 
Your smile drops. 
He takes the empty seat next to you, flashing you a grin. “Long time no see.” You roll your eyes, with the distance between the two of you closer than ever, you lean over to make sure your grandma gets plenty of cabbage kim-chi and warm sauces with her rice, helping her whenever necessary. By the time you sit back down, your bowl already is full of food. You glance over at the culprit.
Heeseung just shrugs when you raise an eyebrow, muttering a thank you before digging in. 
“I hear you’re planning to attend the same university as Heeseung.” His mother’s words cause your eyes to widen, choking slightly on your bite before you feel someone’s hand on your back. “You okay, ____?” And the mirth in his eyes tells you he finds your reaction funny.
You shake your head in earnest, feeling yourself lose even more passion for school. She continues, reaching for some grilled meats with her chopsticks. “It’s exciting, isn’t it? You two are basically neighbors, and you’re always super hard working. Maybe Heeseung could learn a thing or two, since I hear so much about how you help out your grandma.”
You’re pleased to hear she likes you, but it all comes out at once, and her confessions leave you in surprise. You glance over at the boy next to you, hoping to gain some wicked satisfaction from it all, but what you see leaves you with a dejected look. Heeseung’s gaze is steely, and you notice the almost glare his mom sends her son after saying it. He feels small, unlike the confidence that surrounds him after test scores or when he got admitted into his colleges. Something doesn’t feel right, and it leaves a sour feeling on your tongue when you try to make yourself bigger than him. 
“Heeseung has always done well. I’m sure he’ll continue to do well both at the bakery and in school.” You don’t mean to disagree with her, but it’s true. You hate to admit it, at least to his face, but Heeseung’s worked just as hard or harder than everyone else. He tilts his head in confusion as to why you’d voice something like that, and you roll your eyes, hoping that he never brings it up again.  
You continue to talk with his mother, laughing at her comments and going along with whatever she has to say, no matter how traditional her views might be. You thank her profusely for the meal, and she waves you off with a bashful look. ‘It’s nothing,’ she communicates through her laughs and small hug when you two are about to leave.
“See!” Your grandma says on the walk back, as you carry tupperware of marinated meats and soup. “Hee isn’t so bad after all.” 
“I guess.” You really have nothing else to tell her, not wanting to ruin the delicate moments between you two as the sun casts down a slim glow. “He didn’t really say much.” 
His mom, however, made you realize just why Heeseung performs at the standard he does- because he really has no choice but to be the best, or to accept failure in front of his parents’ eyes. It’s a corrosive treatment, one that slowly digs away at anyone’s ability to be passionate about truly anything. 
She changes the subject. “How’s the bakery?” 
You want to tell her that Heeseung is annoying, that he runs around always telling you to do things, that he’s always too busy covered in flour and coconut cream to help you out. You want to tell her that you hate Heeseung, and that your quality of life decreases whenever he’s around. He messes with you, sends jokes and digs your way, and you don’t know how to get him out of there faster. 
“Heeseung’s fine. I know he’s a big help to you.” And maybe, he’s become a big help to you, too. 
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There is one thing you’re not sure you can perfect- macarons. 
They’re dumb, take so little ingredients yet such precision- and to be honest, do they even taste that good? In your personal opinion, they’re nothing amazing, and honestly, the scraps of chocolate cake that you don’t use for cake pops serves you well. 
The night before, you and Heeseung both mutually agreed to stay for a bit longer, starting on the macarons so neither of you would mess up tomorrow morning in a rush. It’s a large order, and you get them relatively often. You try to get tips from your grandmother the night before that, writing them down in your phone and making sure you listen to every piece of advice she says. You write down the last thing in your notes, ominously typed out in bold text. “don’t overdo it.” it reads, and you stay up watching videos on how other people make them look so perfect. 
Staying late for the shift meant you shifted your routine by a few hours- showering later, eating a bit later, and sleeping less than you should’ve. You were tired already, but the extra work only added to it, making you feel less and less confident in every piped macaron. 
The alarm reads 8:00am, a criminally late hour if you want to get to work on time. Sending a quick apologetic text to your coworker, you rush out of the house, driving as carefully as you can to make it there while scraping as much time off as you can. Rushing in, you see Heeseung, leaning over and assessing your yellow batch. If the grid you used was supposed to be a 5 by 11 sheet, then there should be 55 macarons- but you notice, in a few places, there are missing confections. 
One culprit. “How childish do you have to be to eat the ones I’ve made?” The immediate accusation has Heeseung looking up at you, straightening his back to narrow his eyes. 
“Some of your macarons were hollow shelled.” 
“What, so you go and throw them away without even asking me?”
Heeseung hates how the mood is immediately dampened, finding himself getting more heated around you. “We literally need 25 of each- only four of yours were hollow- I had to start making another batch because I didn’t want to risk mine being hollow, too.” He tries to explain, tapping his fingers on the counter. Your skin feels hot- how dare he mess with the batch you already worked so hard to pipe and fold? If you were to fish out the shells from the trash right now, you would be positive that they weren’t even that empty. You grab one of the tools from near the sink, going to inspect his red ones. 
His attempt to make himself look human is shattered when you notice that none of his, are in fact, hollow like how he presumes they were. 
“You didn’t even check yours!” You exclaim, feeling targeted. 
He rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t even matter who’s batch it was- why do you care so much that I was trying to help you out because you were late today?” 
That- that was your reason. Lee Heeseung once again spelt trouble, by meddling in your macarons when you could’ve so easily examined them yourself. He turns around to start washing the utensils in the sink, as you stand there and seethe. Blame it on the sleep, or on the stress of rushing out this morning, but all of it makes you walk out of the building, feeling the hot tears fill your waterline before they spill and cascade down your skin. 
You worked so hard to make them- and even if they weren’t perfect, even if what he had to say was right, you just wished you could’ve seen it for yourself. You haven’t worked there much prior to the summer, and macarons have always been something you’ve wanted to nail, so to see Heeseung set the standard according to his own feelings and just throw out the ones you wanted to see- well, it hurts. It’s a jab at your pride, at all the effort you’ve put into learning and watching videos, sacrificing sleep to listen to people croak advice after advice on one of the greatest baking feats. It hurts to see once again that you’ve failed to be like Heeseung, and that he took matters into his own hands by assessing your tray for you
Fishing out your phone, you look for one contact to offer comfort. “Grandma?” You ask, sinking down to rest your head on your knees without sitting on the cement. You’re next to your car, not wanting to go through the efforts of finding your keys. 
“What’s wrong?” She asks immediately after hearing your sniffle, and you tell her. You tell her about how your shells were uneven, and how you worked so hard for them, and how Heeseung threw them away before you could even see for yourself. She understands your pain, and tells you that no one can perfect something as difficult as macarons- and that during spring break, she had seen Heeseung go through the same thing. It helps, just a little, to know that he started from the same place as you, too. You calm down with her further reassurance, and wipe your puffy eyes before coming back in. You’re afraid the patrons will notice something’s up, and ignore Heeseung’s worried looks to pat cold water onto your eyelids in hopes of helping them look less red.
He sees all of it- Heeseung Isn't stupid, he knows what he’s done, but he can’t get himself to apologize. And as you knew, he went through the same heartbreaking process, and in his thorough reassessment of the situation, he doesn’t know why he didn’t see it from your perspective until you stormed out. 
‘I'm sorry,’ he writes on the bag of lemon curd he made for your macarons. But it does little to salvage your disposition for today. You ignore him, never asking for any help, or any opinion even in the times you usually would. It’s quiet throughout the whole day, like a gray cloud has dampened the colors in the sky, and you clock out at exactly the right time after everything is done, put away, and cleaned. you refuse to leave a mess for Heeseung to point out, but you leave feeling angry, sad, but mostly, disappointed. 
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The next day, you arrive at the bakery to find Heeseung sipping from a dangerously large cup of instant boba and taro milk. His eyes dart up to witness all of your struggling glory carrying a shipment that came to the house instead of the shop. In a hurry, he grabs a few boxes from the top and sets them down on the counter, and whatever you were carrying follows suit. He treats you as if you didn’t fight, as if you two aren’t filling the room with tension the more you steal glances at each other. He grabs his drink, one that he’s prepared 15 minutes ago, and finishes almost another quarter of it in one long sip.
You want to tease him for how much taro he’s had when it’s barely 8 o’clock, but it’s not the right time. Days like this are always slow, only dragged out longer by the silence and lack of tasks. The awkward silence between you two fuels him to grab scissors and start opening the boxes. 
“I thought your grandma might’ve told you I could handle it.” Heeseung comments, refilling the crushed water and oreo toppings. “I was checking the delivery updates pretty often.”
“Not often enough,” you snap. You fight back a glare, and proceed to open up your own box of extracts. “I’m her granddaughter. Maybe you should go enjoy summer with your friends. Don’t you have a beach trip to thirst trap at or something?” It’s meant to be an insult, but Heeseung quietly chuckles, finding it a little funny. 
“Yes, we are having a beach trip soon. But i already told your grandma I’ll work in the morning before your aunt comes to take over.” You frown, wondering why your grandma never reaches out to you and asks you to help.
With emphasis on the syllables in his name, you fire back, “Let’s be clear, Heeseung, she wants my help much more than she needs yours.” He glares, stirring a cup with his eyebrows furrowed and lips curled down in distaste. 
“I’m sure that’s why she was so enthusiastic about coming over to our house and talking to me.” It’s your turn to scowl, and you’re afraid Heeseung’s comments will only take years off your life and produce wrinkles on your face much quicker. 
“Funnily enough, I heard she didn’t want you working there at all.” You cross your arms to look at him as a way to further your point. 
He responds defensively. “Yeah. as if.” Even the way Heeseung rolls his eyes at you is annoying. “She just wants me around more than you.” 
You can’t feel offended, especially when his tone is so light. It probably isn’t even true- how much your grandmother prefers Lee Heeseung over you, just like anyone else. The feeling burns you and you shrink away from the heat of the sudden fire accompanied by the implications of his words. Heeseung catches on to the sudden shift in your demeanor. 
“Hey, I didn’t mean that.” He tries to apologize, watching you carefully.
The flames leave you angry with his response, feeling once again belittled by him. “Bullshit. Are you glad you’re the favorite for every single person you know?” 
His eyebrows furrow, feeling the bite of your words, and the mood instantly changes. “That’s not what I meant, ____.” 
You roll your eyes. “Of course that’s not what you meant, Heeseung. Of course you’re the one who’s perfect, and I’m simply the one who misinterprets all of it. Of course you have never had a bad intention ever and you are loved by everyone. Why can’t you just go? Do you really have to take one more thing away from me and make it your own?” The years of resentment pile up in the words you throw at him, and the built up wall you’ve created finally shows just why you should despise him so much. “Or was it not your intention to do that either?” 
It’s too early, to be honest, to be fighting like this, and you’re definitely saying things that you’re going to regret. But you’re tired of being second to him- tired of never getting the recognition you so badly deserved from those who you actually wanted to hear it from. You’re tired of never being heard by your teachers, getting grades that swoop right under a certain someone’s. All on purpose. (right?)
Despite the sudden urge to bicker with you about how you think everything is about you, and how you’ve never given him a chance, the boy beside you is observant to how hurt you sound being so vulnerable. Heeseung finds himself trying to rethink the past ten years of shared childhood experiences. He’s never really thought about what he’s done to deserve such resentment from you, but the more he says silent, the more he realizes that he’s always so graciously soaked up praise from everyone, and because of it, you were always left sulking in his shadow. 
“I’m sorry.” But it’s more than that. 
You feel stupid for expecting anything deeper. “Is that all you have to-“
He cuts you off, trying to articulate the words and form reason. “No, there’s more. God- let me just think.” You hear how badly he needs to get it out, and you stay quiet, having let all of your anger out already. 
“I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m not going to apologize for all of the things I’ve achieved,” he says firmly. “Because that’s never how things were for me- I have no reason to feel bad about what I did.” And you can respect him for standing his ground in a situation full of misunderstanding. “I never did it to hurt you, and I never did it to get in your face and show I was better. But I’m sorry for hurting you unintentionally. I’m sorry I never realized that those things were just as important to you, and I’m sorry for always assuming the worst when we’d talk. I’m sorry I never apologized, and held all of this against you, and made this thing between us worse than it was supposed to be. And, I’m sorry, too, about the macarons. That was stupid. I really should’ve known.”
You feel overwhelmed, your mind trying to undo the years of built up feelings towards him under the assumption that he meant to do those things. “I thought you did it because you genuinely didn’t want to see me happy. Like that time you did the extra credit in biology just so you could score better than me.” You breathe, words coming out without really realizing what you’re saying. “Or like that time in first grade where you spilled your applesauce on me, and never apologized. I kept thinking, what the fuck did I do to deserve it? What had I done to make you feel like we had to compete?” Your open ended questions continue to resonate within your co-worker’s mind, and the more you ramble, the more he sees just how twisted he looks. 
“In first grade, that was because the boys said I’d get cooties if I went to talk to you. Believe me, ____, I tried. But every single time I try to fix things between us, you never let me, I swear.” 
It’s your turn to be confused, swearing that you never saw him apologize. “When have you ever tried to be nice to me?” 
“I tried to let stuff go. Like all the little things we’d say about each other- I tried to understand why you were always so unhappy around me. But you always said I was meddling in your business or that I just wanted to find another way to get under your skin.” 
It settles, then, the realization that you’ve turned him into the villain a bit more than you should’ve. You know there’s always been mutual dislike- there are certain times where you know Heeseung had it out for you, with his sneers, his comments or the way he’d smile at your defeat- but you weren’t a saint either. There were other times that maybe, he wasn’t out to get you, but you were always so consumed with the idea of hating Lee Heeseung that you hated the idea of him being a decent person, too. 
“I’m sorry,” You say, leaving your emotions to witness. “I really should’ve paid attention to your genuine efforts back then, too.”
And you’re not the only one who’s at a loss for words this time. Heeseung is in uncharted territory, unsure of how to process the way you’re apologizing, and being so open. And he’s antagonized you too; made you out to be a mood killer and party pooper in every event imaginable, despising the idea of being around you because you two always disagree somehow. 
“But, why do you do it? Why do you come here if it’s really anything personal?” 
He answers in the only way he sees fit. “I want to help her out, she’s always cooked for our family, she’s let me come over a few times, just little things for my family and I. I never meant to take your grandma away from you like that, I promise. She’s just so kind, and she cares so much about me, so of course I want to care for her, too. I just didn’t think it’d be at the expense of you.”
Despite still feeling hurt, you nod, trying to be mature and talking about it rather than burying it deep. “All I hear about is how she wants you to come, and how she never needs my help anymore because she has you already volunteering. It’s like I barely mean anything to her.” Your words sting for Heeseung, but not because there’s any anger directed at him. Heeseung feels a pang of relatability in his chest, the inability to ever be enough for those around you gnawing away at your self-esteem. 
He shakes his head, begging you silently to understand. “She doesn’t want you to work so hard.” He starts, running a hand through his hair. “She tells me about how she’s worried if you’re eating, or if you’re stressed. She’s watched you through-out your whole life, ____. All she’s ever wanted was for you to finally enjoy the summer you worked so hard for.”
“I just wish it felt that way.” You admit.
To hear such high praise from his lips feels foreign- the idea of Lee Heeseung noticing how hard you’ve worked, realizing the amount of effort you’ve put into your standing and accomplishments, it’s weird. You know he understands completely how stressful it’s all been, considering he was stuck to your side the whole time in highschool whether you liked it or not. Lee Heeseung has worked hard, if not harder, than you, and for him to be able to admit that is so much different than what your perception of him would think. It’s awkward to meet his gaze, and his small smile eases the tension a little when you laugh at his attempt to soothe things out. 
“I feel dumb, for thinking so horribly of you. I honestly never thought you looked at me like I was an equal, just someone you could surpass.” He shakes his head, about to reach out and grab your wrist before he realizes just how intimate it would be. 
“You’re not dumb, _____. You never have been. I’ve always looked up to you.” 
There are knots in your chest- the ones that make it feel as tight and hard to breathe as you do right now- that slowly become untangled the more he speaks of you. His words undo them, little by little, and even if it takes a long time to fix the rift between you two, at least you know you have help. 
Internally, your heart begs you to ask. “Why do you even care?” 
He pauses, mulling over his words, and looking for a proper response. “I don’t know.” He sighs. “I just want to, we’ve been around each other since we were kids, and if there was someone who I’d hope to have by my side, whether or not we’re close, it was you.” 
Your breath hitches at his confession, and your mind runs in a hundred different directions, without ever expecting those words to tumble from his lips. You promise yourself to do things differently from now on, not trusting your words to continue the conversation. 
“We should finish unpacking.” And the rest is that. 
When you two leave to go home, the old tension feels different- lighter, almost. As much as you know he would do things to get on your nerves, never understanding just why you were so negative and brooding around him, your perception of him wasn’t the best, either. And still, you may be a bit mad at him, and not exactly friendly, but at least you’ve both let go of the unspoken baggage.  
When you sit in the passenger seat, you’re less inclined to turn away and face the window, and make small talk with the radio on. 
Things aren’t perfect- the years of hurt he’s done to you doesn’t dissipate in a day, but it’s getting better, and you can only hope it continues that way. 
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A week passes between the two of you, and time flows easier now that you two talked things out. You don’t dread going to work, and you didn’t refuse when he offered to buy food on the way home a few days ago. Sure, some topics between you two are sore, and you’re not best of friends, but it’s light years ahead of what it was like before. 
You can never truly get rid of the banter between you two- there are clever insults you’ve crafted in your head that you love to see his reaction to, and you’re just the right person for Heeseung to bicker with. 
“Do you ever stop drinking that soy milk?” Your coworker asks. You nurse your cup, keeping it close as you rush to defend your end of shift drink. “You’re like, a baby.”
“It’s lactose free. And a very good basic drink.” You explain, frowning at yet another large cup of taro tea he holds in his hands. “Your drink probably tastes like nothing.” 
He holds it out, and you raise an eyebrow. “Just use the same straw,” he insists. You truly don’t mind, but it’s so weird now to know that Heeseung, like, your friend. But you take a sip anyways, cringing at how your suspicions were right- There’s barely a hint of sweetness in there. 
“Don’t make that face!” He comments when you grimace, and also feels the need to protect his opinion on 15% sweet options. 
“Anyways,” you change the subject, determined to get him to see your sweet tooth ways. “Help me make some creme brûlée for my grandma. I’ve never tried.” And he sets his cup down, and for the first time possibly, Heeseung joins you to do something. 
“It should be easy, right?” He says, and with a look of determination, you set off. 
“Heat the cream.” You tell him, reading the instructions from your phone. 
He retorts lightly, “So rude.” and you turn around to scoff, all in good fun. 
“You’re insufferable.” And he tilts his head, offering you a small pouty smile when he turns on the stove. 
The mood feels so much less stuffy than it did before when he says, “Must suck to always hate me like how you do.” 
“I have an egg yolk in my hand that i’m willing to throw at you.” He chuckles, and peers over at your bowl. 
“You’re pretty good at that.” He notes, and you fight the urge to beam at his compliment for your yolk-separation skills. After he’s poured in enough cream, he grabs the sugar and a measuring spoon, fishing your phone out from beside you and reading the measurements. 
He adds so much less than what the recipe says, and you only know this because when you glance over, the scale reads a number much lower than 65 grams. 
“Heeseung,” You call out, in a playfully stern manner, and the boy in question turns around like he’s been caught. “Bring back the sugar.” 
“We’ve run out.” He says, the lie appearing as a wide smile on his face. Unconvinced, you walk over, and in turn, he holds the jar up out of your reach. You refuse to reach for it, knowing that the boy in front of you is much taller, but also that you don’t want to break the glass with some horseplay.
Your voice goes from demanding to reasoning. “Give it back. God, I can’t stand you and all of your low sugar preferences. The sugar is literally needed for the texture!” He simply shakes his head, walking over to add just one more unmeasured spoonful. “You didn’t even weigh it.” 
Heeseung mocks you- a high-pitched and garbled version that follows the intonation of your words, and you let out a surprised scoff at his immaturity. Getting a whisk, you make sure the newly added sugar is fully dissolved. He returns with the pot of cream that bubbles slowly, with an oven mitt around the hot handle. Without a look in your direction, Heeseung holds out his arm between you and the heated cream, and it really doesn’t do much- but yet, at the same time, it does. It’s something he does subconsciously; and something you do your best not to pay attention to in order to properly reach for the whisk.
He slaps your hand away lightly, and you mumble an ‘ow!’ in response. “Don’t touch that. Let me whisk it. It’s hot.” He reprimands gently.
Yeah, you’re still doing your best not to pay attention to it. 
When the mixture transforms from a deep yellow to a pale banana color, he leans down and checks the side of the bowl for any egg and sugar he’s missed. “Here,” you reach out. “Let me get the pot.” Heeseung glances up, and shakes his head quickly.
“No it’s okay-“ and it happens quickly, the hand that was whisking leaves to swat your hand away, but it instead makes contact with the rim of the metal appliance when he doesn’t pay attention to where his hand is placed. Although Heeseung only hisses quietly at the pain, you immediately feel bad. 
“Just give it to me,” you demand, and pry the pot out of his hand to let him nurse his wound, leaving it in the sink and quickly going to the medicine cabinet for burn relief cream- the same one you used a few weeks ago. After you grab it, you return to him, reaching out your hand and waiting for him to show you the puffy red skin. 
He slowly puts his hand on your palm, and you twist around his finger to apply the ointment, doing your best to spread it without pressing too hard. 
“Thank you.” 
You glare. “Don’t hold hot things if you’re not fully attending to them.” And he puts his hands up in surrender, taking a step back. 
“I’ll be preparing your ramekins, boss.” The nickname has a nice ring to it. 
When it’s done, the creme brûlée comes out with a slight wobble in the middle, indicating a well-cooked perfection. “Grab the blowtorch!” You shove him into the direction of where it is, and he complies. You sprinkle sugar over five of the six dishes, using a spoon to shape the sugar in the last dish into a heart since you thought it looks cute. 
Heeseung comes back from your right, leaning over to watch you intently. “A heart? You make it seem like you’re in love, or something.” He jokes, evading a jab with your right elbow. 
“Shut up.” 
“You shut up.”
“You argue like a-“ you’re about to finish your sentence with ‘child,’ but when you turn your head (in hopes that saying it directly would add more emphasis), you’re face to face with Heeseung, with a proximity between you two that’s far less than expected. 
He takes a quick step away, and you glance somewhere else with a nervousness in your eye. 
Neither of you say anything, not really sure if you should apologize or if he should, and you return to your current task, a small churning turning in your stomach. You take a step back to let him caramelize the sugar, and he holds the blowtorch with his non-burned hand. 
It’s good, is the only thing you think when you crack the sugar and scoop a bit, admiring the texture. When you and Heeseung finished one each, you begin to clean up and wash the equipment you used. 
“It’s late, _____. I’ll take you home.” He states the obvious, and for what?
“How else am I supposed to get back?” You laugh, and in response, he shrugs. 
“Just a reminder as to which one of us is so graciously kind to drive you too and from the bakery almost everyday.”
“If I had a choice, I could’ve easily taken my own car. You know my grandma needs it for her errands. Like her Wednesday bingo night, or whatever.” He chuckles, holding the door open and unlocking the car. 
Being in the same space as Lee Heeseung isn’t as excruciating as how it used to be- and now, it’s just an opportunity for you to finally ask your burning questions. 
“Heeseung, I’m just curious. How did you even meet my grandma?” 
He furrows his eyebrows. “I think it was the mailbox,” he starts, trying to remember. “She dropped her mail, and it blew out into the street, so I went to get it for her. And on the walk back, she just started asking me questions. Apparently she and my mom were closer than I thought.”
“And that’s how you started working?” 
“First, it was community service. Just using the cash register- since we’re cashless, it’s nothing illegal to have me manage orders.”
“And she just thought you were an angel from the get-go, or something?” 
“Who doesn’t?” And you glare, mocking him like what he did to you earlier. Heeseung’s lips curl into a grin at your antics, never taking it to heart. 
“Me, obviously.” And it’s a half-lie, because secretly, Heeseung isn’t so bad. 
“Well,” he starts, motioning. “I don’t think there’s anything I do or could do that you’d like.” 
You splutter, “That’s not true!” And he raises an eyebrow at your indignant words. 
“Name one thing that you like about me.” 
“No!” You refuse, crossing your arms. “You already have a large enough ego from the teachers.” 
Heeseung rolls his eyes at you, tapping his hands tapping on the wheel impatiently. “That’s lame, ____. You’re just further proving my point.” 
With a sigh, you tell him, “I like how you helped us win in Taboo.” And he gives you a look. 
“Cop-out.” 
“What-? No!” Emptying your brain, you try to find something you truly like about the boy who makes life a living hell- or, well, used to (he still kind of does). “Okay, fine. I like that you care about my grandma.” 
Heeseung stays kind of quiet, not really sure what to do now that you’re once again being sincere. “Well, she’s like- the only person who doesn’t expect something from me.” 
Confusion floods your thoughts. “What do you mean?”
“I’m grateful for everyone in my life,” He prefaces. “But it’s no fun having to always work for people’s approval, sometimes, I wish that someone could just appreciate me for me, and that’s how your grandma is. No expectations with her. She’s just happy I’m still around- which, I know, is bare minimum, but at least I don’t have to try so hard for her to like me.” The light turns green, and the car rumbles as he slowly accelerates.
You mull over his confession. “Do I expect something from you then, too?”
“You expect me to perform well, because I always have- and therefore, I have to do well, or else you’ll just rub it in my face.” He states plainly, and you grimace for the second time today. 
“Sorry, I won’t do that anymore.” Heeseung waves you off. 
“It’s no big deal- plus, you weren’t the only one who thought I’d do well all the time. It’s something everyone thought of me. If anything, you were the one who just motivated me to always work harder.” 
“But isn’t that a good thing? To be the best?” 
He shakes his head and when you take a good look at him, Heeseung has a glassy look in his eye. “Sometimes, yes. A lot of the time, no. I just want to do well without anyone forcing that on to me. I don’t want the expectation to be perfect, because then, it’s so much easier for me to stumble.” You don’t realize just how much weight Heeseung carries on his back from the words of his peers and his family. And to you, he resembles a diamond; perfect, but from pressure. 
“Well, from now on, I won’t expect it from you. And if I do better, then I won’t rub it in your face. So that’ll make two people you won’t have to worry about.” The response he gives you is non-verbal, but his change in expression is first laced with surprise, and then silent appreciation.
“Thanks,” he says, once again at a loss for words. “I appreciate it.” 
You send Heeseung a smile, understanding how it feels to always have to do good. You can only hope that he gets his break from the pressure before he burns out. 
“Oh, I should tell you now. I can’t make it next Friday. I have plans, and I’d figure I’d let you know now so you could find someone to replace me.” He announces. When he looks over to see your response, you nod in understanding.
“What are you doing?” 
“Grad party.” Heeseung says plainly. “It’s Jake’s, so if I’m hungover, I’ll try to let you know if I’ll be good by morning.” 
“So considerate.” You comment, albeit a bit teasing. He scoffs, making the final turn before reaching your house. “To be expected from someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” He questions. “And what kind of person am I?”
“Someone who’s going to have to work alone for the next two weeks if he doesn’t shut up.” He laughs, his eyes scrunching up as unlocks the car. “Thanks for the ride.” 
“Of course, ____.”
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A few days go by, but one morning, you walk outside to see Heeseung parked in his car, scrolling on his phone- and it takes you walking up to him to roll the window down. 
“You didn’t even text me you were coming,” you start, pouting slightly. 
Heeseung pats the passenger side. “Just- get in, will you?” And you comply, never one to refuse a free trip to work. 
“So why today?” You ask, fiddling with your fingers and bag. “You usually never pick me up on Thursdays.”
“Since it’s your grandma’s birthday and all, I figured I could just pick you up, and drop you off. She called me yesterday asking to come over, and invite my parents, too. And they couldn’t come because of a work trip, but I promised her.” 
You stay silent. “Fuck, that’s today?” And Heeseung laughs- not at you, just at the situation. 
He nods, eyes still glued to the road. “Have you decided what you want to get her?”
“Flowers, definitely. Probably these treats she’s been thinking about getting from the store. I have this really nice collection of kitchen appliances that I know she’ll like.” And you’re rambling, but Heeseung makes no effort to stop you. “She loves to peel stuff by hand, but I was trying this thing out in the store and it actually works perfectly. Here, I’ll pull it up.” And he takes a quick look at the overpriced appliance, realizing that you also care immensely, but in different ways. “I still need to get her stuff, though- I’m not sure how I’m supposed to get to the flower shop if they close when we close.” And it leaves you dejected, since you know what flowers are her favorite, and how happy she’d be if she saw them on the table for a while. 
“We’ll figure it out,” Heeseung promises, and you nod, believing his words. 
You close a bit earlier than usual, and Heeseung writes on a small sticky note for patrons to come tomorrow. The bakery closes at 8:00 PM everyday, and usually 30 minutes can’t hurt- or at least, you hope it doesn’t. 
When you continue to anxiously check the clock, he comes to your side, rubbing your shoulder and telling you that “30 minutes is plenty of time.” 
“We have to walk there though, and clean up. There’s virtually no parking there ever since that other place opened up nearby.” And he curses, not taking something like that into consideration. While you might be ending earlier, you can’t just leave anything out in fear that someone’s going to try and break in, but you also don’t have nearly enough time to properly wash the dishes and wipe down the tables and counters. Instead, you both opt for putting away the large equipment and the food, turning off the lights so anyone who looks in gets the impression it’s closed with the lack of displays or people around. Then, you two can come back to finish organizing and preparing for tomorrow. 
His reassurance is easy to listen to, and Heeseung’s ability to figure out a plan is comforting in and of itself. You’re grateful he’s even willing to come with. 
“You can just wait in the car, really-“ 
Heeseung looks at you like you’re mad. “We talked about this,” he pressed. “It’s dangerous to go out alone. I have nothing to do in the car anyways.”
Finally, you shut off the lights and start dragging Heeseung’s arm, who’s still taking the key out of the lock as he’s being taken away by your impatience. Setting off in a brisk walk, you continue to check your phone, trying to beat time. Heeseung promises you once more that it’ll be okay, and you ask him what he got for your grandma to change the conversation. You both know her well, and your gifts reflect what qualities you care for most. You realize that Heeseung always keeps others in the back of his mind- like his thoughtful gift to Sunoo, with a handwritten card that Sunoo read a bit of to you guys before Heeseung stopped the further embarrassment. You didn’t realize it then, but the people in his life feel wanted all the time because he has the love to give them. 
You get there barely five minutes before 8:00 PM, and the discontent that washes over the shop owner’s face is apparent. “We’re closed,” she says, and you can’t imagine it’s easy to stay by yourself in a room so stuffy and full of pollen. You walk up to her with Heeseung following behind you, observing the way you practically beg for her to let you find some flowers. You promise you won’t take long, and she sighs, unraveling some of the wrapping paper she knows you’ll want. 
There aren’t many left now that the day is over- and you wonder what kind of people frequent the flower shops. Is it apologetic husbands trying to win over their disappointed wives? Is it children buying flowers for their parents and elders? Or is it people like you and Heeseung, who want to gift it to someone they care about?
“Can you trim the thorns?” And she shakes her head, continuing to ring your bouquet up. You feel horrible, understanding exactly how it feels when someone at the bakery asks for something so grandiose near closing, when your social battery has depleted and you don’t have any more smiles to give. And you know this, but you’re willing to go above and beyond if the shop owner is okay with it. The effort she’s put in already to cut the papers and ribbons to accentuate the flowers is already plenty, but it’s your grandma, and you make sure to come back to support her generously again. 
“Please,” you exhale, desperation and anger mixing in your tone. “I’ll pay extra.” With that, the shop owner sighs, taking your forty dollars and looking up as she opens the cash register. “Just keep it.” You say, in apology for earlier. She doesn’t decline the offer, and slides the crumpled bill into the slot with the rest of them, and ties a purple ribbon around the bouquet. 
You almost forget that he watches the whole ordeal, until the owner of the flower shop mutters a “couples these days” under her breath, and your eyes widen.
With profuse thanks, you grab the neatly wrapped flowers and leave, but the moment you turn the corner, you gawk. “Did you hear what she said?”
“That we’re a couple?” Heeseung brushes it off like it’s nothing. “Yeah. But- what kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t the one paying for them?” 
Heeseung paying for flowers to give to you- it’s a thought that leaves you quiet as your feet follow the same steps you took to get there. Of course he would- and you wonder if you’d ever want to be on the receiving end of it from him- or, actually, anyone for that matter. You’re not sure your mind automatically wants such a sweet gesture from Lee Heeseung himself.
“Thank you for coming, again.” 
“Quit worrying about bothering me,” and it’s like he can read your mind. “Believe it or not, I don’t mind being around you.” His sarcastic comment still holds that undercurrent of honesty, and it’s like he knows just what you need to hear. 
The walk back is much less stressful than the walk to. It falls back to that simple dynamic between two people who have begun to tolerate each other, full of little insults, hits to the side, and laughing. You finally make it back, and the sun paints the sky with swirling blue and pink. The sunset illuminates Heeseung’s side profile as he unlocks the door again, and when you finally pay attention to his jawline, or the gentle purse of his lips in concentration, you come to the conclusion that Heeseung is more than easy on the eyes. 
And as you two clean up, the flowers sit in the passenger seat; a symbol of care for your grandmother, and Lee Heeseung’s time well spent with you.
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The trips with leftovers become more frequent, and his parents always remember who you are every time you come bearing gifts. “____!” They exclaim, returning the old tupperware with more dishes on top. It feels like at this point, your grandma cooks for them, and they cook for her just as much. 
“Go bother Heeseung, won’t you? We have dinner in a moment, but he’s been so busy with his work.” You smile at her, curious as to what he even has to do now that school’s over. “It’s the room to your left when you go up.” 
You knock on his door and he yells in response, telling you to come in. Under the assumption that it’s his family, Heeseung goes wide-eyed when he notices it’s you in his messy room with his pajamas and old t-shirts strewn here and there. 
“I did not expect it to be you,” he mumbles, quickly getting out of his chair to fix his covers and pick up a sock. A laugh bubbles from your throat with the way he’s scrambling to make things presentable right before you. 
“Don’t worry. I don’t think I’ll be staying long anyways. Your mom told me to drag you downstairs because you were too invested in your work.” He looks sheepish as he mumbles a quick apology, and after the quick tidying, he shuts his laptop and organizes his desk. “What do you even have to do anyways?” 
“I’m just making music- I started this internship with an entertainment company where they let me shadow a producer and offer input on some unreleased songs for their artists- so I’m just looking at the tracks and making demos.” 
“They let you do that? I figured shadowing wasn’t possible for a company so big.” He nods, a smile dusting his features, and you can tell he takes pride in what he’s accomplished.
You’re about to ask more, but a call of your names from downstairs leaves you two quickly walking down. 
“Have dinner with us!” His dad tells you, and you want to tell him you already ate a bit, but the noodles look delicious, and you agree to only eat a little bit. You glance over at Heeseung, but he offers a small smile as he pulls out a chair for you. 
And so it begins again, but just without your grandmother. 
“____, what are you planning to do in the future?” Heeseung’s dad starts. 
“I’m planning to study Biology in the fall at uni.” You start. “I had an internship last summer before senior year, and I really learned a lot from it, so I knew what I wanted to do by the time I applied for schools.” His mother praises you, as all Asian mothers do, and you can see why Heeseung is so kind-hearted by the way his parents speak to you. 
The conversation naturally switches from your plans to Heeseung’s, as they talk about his pursuit in music production. 
“I’m sure he’s doing a good job, I’m always in classes with him, and there’s nothing you need to worry about.”
His mother continues, however. “I mean, there’s always ways kids can get ahead. I always tell him to apply for things early, and he could’ve gotten more scholarships and finished his internship last summer if he wasn’t so behind. But he’s doing it now, so there's nothing we can say about it.” Her words rub you the wrong way immensely. While your own parents were never the most involved in your high school academics and were supportive of any career path you chose, they never placed an expectation on you to do the best and overachieve. But you get the sense that for Heeseung, no matter how supportive they were, it was never really good enough. It’s torturous.
But, you don’t really know how to respond, humming to ease the growing silence instead. “That’s always true, but I know a lot of people look up to him, including me. He’s doing great regardless of when he does it.” No matter how gently you put it, you know it’s in total opposition to how they think and feel when it comes to their own son, but you can only hope that it helps ease the tension.
The rest of dinner goes smoothly, with the discussion of your summer and how things have been with friends, parties, and planned trips. You finish their food quickly, complimenting Heeseung’s mother’s cooking once again and watching her face light up. 
“You should head home, we don’t want your grandma to be too worried.” His dad starts, and you agree, quick to grab your bag. Heeseung takes the containers from your hand and starts putting on his sandals. “I’ll walk you home.” Despite your refusal to let him carry your things, he insists, and you miss the way his mom stares fondly at you two from the kitchen island. 
The warm summer air gives you the illusion that it’s not so late, and with the way light still peaks from the horizon, you feel less tired the later the summer nights get. 
The boy next to you speaks up first. “Did you mean it?” You sneak a glance at his relaxed posture, a hand in his sweatpants and bangs on his forehead. 
“What part?” 
“Any part.” 
You nod, feeling almost incredulous that he thought you’d make up something like that after you two agreed to be on good terms.
“Of course, Hee- I wouldn’t lie about that stuff, especially not to your parents.” 
“I’m sorry about them, by the way.” He reaches up to run a hand through his hair. “They have high expectations sometimes, I’m sorry if it’s uncomfortable to hear them talk about me like that so openly.” The first instinct you have is to reach for his shoulder, making eye contact with him and offering a semblance of comfort before you walk across the street. 
“No, you don’t need to apologize for stuff like that. I’m sorry your parents hold you to those kinds of expectations.” 
“It’s okay, I’m used to it.” 
“But the problem is, you shouldn’t have to be used to it. You’ve genuinely done so much and you deserve some recognition rather than someone always telling you to do better.”
It goes quiet, but you don’t choose to bring anything else up, enjoying the crickets chirping and the gentle breeze that carries you home. 
You stop outside your door and unlock it, inviting him in to say hi to your grandmother.
“Thank you,” you tell him as he’s leaving. “For walking me home.” 
Heeseung simply shakes his head. “It was nothing, really. Thank you for seeing my parents again and whatnot.” He smiles, waving at you before walking back, and a grin makes its way onto your face before you even notice it. 
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Your phone dings at an hour earlier than you expected to get up, and it leaves you in an annoyed mood while you turn off your alarms.
hee: dude you HAVE to come in we just got a huge order for triple chocolate cake they said they’d pay extra if we finished by today
y/n: help wtf r u doing at the bakery 
hee: i was making brownies i asked ur grandma this morning if i could
y/n: what for…
hee: because i had a craving ??? what else..
y/n: oh LOL ok ill be there in 30
Originally, you and Heeseung were going to have the day off, and your aunt and grandma were going to work instead- but the tempting offer from Heeseung leaves you explaining why you have to come in for work, and that they should stay at home. You say anything that comes to mind, but they know you wouldn’t let them come with the way you were dressed and already grabbing your shoes and keys.
When you finally rush to the doors, you see Heeseung cutting into the chocolate treats, and when you two make eye contact, he shoves the piece in his mouth and nods. 
“Gross.” You comment, laughing. 
He says something intangible, and you shake your head, putting on your apron.
The amount of work you two have put in is simply criminal to be fake, and the day off you have is getting darker the longer you two stay.
You voice your concerns. “Do you think they’re lying about the tip?What they told you seems like much.” 
Heeseung shrugs, and sprinkles sea salt over the piece he picks up. “I’d hope it’s true. They seemed pretty desperate. I called them back today telling them their order would be done soon, so if they show up and pay more, that’d be great.” 
“I’m glad you’re so optimistic.” You laugh. 
“I have to be, because you’re definitely not.” Heeseung laughs when he sees the scowl on your face. 
“Oh yeah? I think I’m at least a little better than the time you spilled the tapioca pearls and then talked about how everyone had it out for you that day.” He rolls his eyes. 
“Between the two of us, I’ll always hear you saying ‘fuck, i dropped the spoon’ more.” His teasing has you smiling. 
“Focus on your lettering. Or do you need someone to hold your hand and help you?” You lean over to look at him spelling CONGRATS with brown icing. “You messed up.” Nitpicking, you point out a random loop and make fun of him for it despite it not looking bad at all. 
“I did not!” He huffs defensively. “I want to see you try.” He passes you the bag, and you get a piece of plastic wrap on the counter before starting. 
“Lee Heeseung sucks.” He reads. “Did you seriously write that?” You laugh at how offended he is, and the boy next to you is quick to pull the bag from your hand to start piping. halfway through the word ‘hate,’ you elbow his side, and it causes his letter ‘t’ to be dragged too far.
“Hey!” He runs over, smearing a bit of icing on your forehead before you duck and try to avoid all his other attacks. The laughs bubble from your stomach, the adrenaline causing you two to chase each other around the kitchen. You’re not even sure what Heeseung would do if he catches you, but you don’t want to find out. 
“I think we should package those cakes!” You remind him, albeit as a distraction. He sighs, crossing his arms in defeat before agreeing and heading back over. You narrowly avoid his glare, a wide smile on your face as you hum in victory. It’s a bit past closing, and he makes sure to flip the sign, still keeping the light on. 
The customer rings the phone, telling Heeseung that she’ll be there in a few minutes. By the time you’ve boxed all three cakes and cleaned up any edges, she walks in. You ring her up at the counter, and she pulls out her largest bills, telling you to take the change as a gift. You two both thank her immensely, making sure she can carry the cakes out to her car before closing for the night. 
When Heeseung enters through the front door, immediately you start cheering. “We just got paid tonight, Hee!” 
The boy grins, subtracting the total from the amount she gave, and it’s clear that she was being serious when she said she would pay extra. “I think this calls for celebration.” 
You don’t really have an excuse to see him outside of work, and the idea of being alone in a non-bakery setting feels scarily new. 
And you’re about to make up an excuse about how you have to be home (you don’t), but your stomach makes a low sound, and it serves as an answer in place of your faltering words. 
“I’m thinking Korean.”
You don’t expect to learn something new about Lee Heeseung, until you see him order two bowls of stir fried ramen despite the restaurant serving much more elegant dishes. 
“Ramen?” A glance at the menu has you reading one of the more expensive meals offered. “You could’ve had- I don’t know, their Honey Garlic Short Ribs.” 
He scrunches his nose in disapproval as a testament to how much he adores his instant noodles. “It’s just not the same. We barely have noodles at home, since my mom always insists on making it from scratch or boiling them in those big packages. Never just ramen.” You take a sip of your water, surprised. 
“You don’t have ramen? God, come over more often, I’ll make you some.” You suggest lightheartedly. 
He glances over, taking you up on the offer. “Woah- me, in your space?” You send him a glare, looking away and ignoring his laughs. 
The food comes relatively quickly, and he looks over what you’ve gotten to judge it. “It looks good. Let me have some.” He says, reaching over with his wooden chopsticks. 
You gasp at his suddenness, quick to refuse and to drag your plate away from him as you pick up a short rib and eat it before he can. The meat tastes wonderfully marinated and tender, and you don’t realize that the haphazard way you tried to eat it left some sauce on your mouth. Heeseung glances over with a frown, about to comment on how incredibly stingy you are until he notices there’s red sauce on your chin, and grabs his tissue. 
“Here.” He says, tapping you on the shoulder. And silently, he wipes it off, to make sure you won’t have to walk around with people seeing and saying anything. 
“Oh- thanks.” It’s pathetic the way your throat dries up, and how you force yourself to drink your water and move on. You hear about this only in movies- about male leads you turn to burns and wax poetic about how much they love you. You don’t expect it to happen so suddenly.
“Is yours any good?” You ask, averting your gaze. His fried eggs and boiled shrimp sit neatly on his stir fried noodles, the presentation better than you could ever make it at home. 
With a shrug, he replies, “We’ll see.” He tries some, and you see a satisfied grin on his features. 
“Is ramen really that good, Hee?” His enthusiastic nods tell you all you need to know as you continue eating, your pile of bones growing ever so slowly. You two make small talk, about his recent beach trip, or about you rafting with your friends. He talks of college- about going away and his fears of growing up. You tell him you’re scared to dorm, since you’ve been around your family for so long, and you share each other’s sentiments about the rapidly approaching adulthood you’ll both have to face. It’s nice like this, not to bicker and to argue and to despise him. It’s nice to just exist around Lee Heeseung, and you wonder why you haven’t done something like this before- sitting next to him and being able to talk freely about the interests and questions you share. 
You guess that it was just the timing- you were both always so stressed from school, unable to properly sit down to sort out your emotions. And yeah- summer is a new slate, and this year feels just a bit more life-changing than the rest of them. 
“You eat so slow.” And you shoot him yet another scowl, picking up some rice. 
“You ordered ramen and you eat like you’ve been starved for three years.” 
“Whatever. I’ll cover the bill?” 
Narrowing your eyes, you try to remember if you two had discussed anything about payments before. “No- I thought we were just going to split the bill.”
He doesn’t seem to care too much. “I’ll pay for you, since I couldn’t have done it without you,” refering to all the baking you did today.  
Exasperated, you refute his horrible reasoning. “I wouldn’t have even found out about her order if you weren’t there. Just let me split it.” You reach out expectantly, and he retracts the receipt, clutching it close. 
“Just pay me back sometime for something else,” and it’s the last thing he says before turning on his heel and leaving you with your agape. 
When you clean up and join him in the car, the first thing you tell him is that he’s ‘annoying,’ and ‘so stubborn it hurts.’ 
Heeseung just laughs at you, telling you it’s nothing special- like he’s used to paying for others. And thinking about how many people come in to ask him for his number or hope for a date, your assumption makes sense- that he does these things for everyone, and you’re not an outlier in any way. 
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When the bakery is one chestnut haired boy short, things are much less interesting. 
“Don’t have too much fun without me.” You joke when Heeseung begins to undo his apron. 
“You can come,” He offers with a small yet sincere smile on his face. “I asked, you all know each other anyways.” You feel your heart stir with the way Heeseung keeps you in his thoughts. 
All you do is refuse his offer. “I have to rewatch my rom-coms.” You wave him off, and within minutes, you’re left alone. The quiet music plays and the bell jingles every so often as patrons come for pick-up orders or drinks. Thankfully it was slow for a Friday, and you weren’t rushing around the shop.
There’s a girl who’s around your age who walks in, curious as to who’s taking her order before making eye contact with you emerging from behind the curtain. 
“Where’s the boy you usually work with?” She says, getting a list of what her and her friends wanted. “I’ve been meaning to ask for his number.” 
You can’t lie and say you’re indifferent to her question, but nonetheless, you take her order and give her his phone number saved in his contact. “He’s not dating anyone, so don’t worry.” You tell her, handing over the receipt. She smiles, and your heart tightens a little at the thought of Heeseung. One of you two is well-liked, one out of the two of you is perfect in every way, and it wasn’t you. 
Without any of your usual weekly plans with your friends, the drive home was quiet as you figured out what to do for the weekend. You would feel bad every time your grandma had to take a shift despite her recovering quickly, and despite her being excited to work again. When home, you decide to make dinner, change, clean up around the house, and retreat to your old room. The show you were catching up on until the wee hours of night was interrupted, and a familiar contact flashes on the screen. 
“Heeseung?” You ask, confused. It’s 12:00 AM. 
“____-ie.” The line giggles a bit before you hear some shuffling. “My head hurts.” 
You’re a bit shocked to hear him like this, but you’re not going to hang up on him and leave him confused. “Did you drink too much?” You ask, trying to choose your words carefully. 
“Yeah,” Heeseung responds, sighing. “I lost a bet, _____. And I lost cup pong, too.” He sounds dejected, like a hurt puppy as he elongates his syllables and pauses between thoughts. “I was going to tell you something.” 
“That you can’t come in for work tomorrow? You sound out of it, Heeseung.” 
He groans, and more shuffling comes from his side. “Yeah, but I can’t drive, ____-ie.” You cringe at the nickname, but refuse to say anything about it with the way he’s acting now.  “No one else can take me home, and my parents can’t know.” He sounds stressed, and you’re quick to reassure him before he starts crying. 
“Where are you?” 
“You’ll pick me up?” Heeseung asks, his tone filled with elation. 
“Maybe. Depends on how I feel in the next 10 minutes.” 
“I’ll cover your shifts anytime, I’ll drive you home, I’ll buy food for you, I’ll sneak you out…” He continues to ramble about all the favors he could do for you, and you laugh before getting out of bed.  
“You better mean it.” 
“I want to see you.” You know he just wants to go home, you know he doesn’t mean anything else with his words. You know he just wants to sober up and go to sleep. 
You know it’s nothing more between you two, yet your heart still beats wildly with every minute you drive, the words echoing in your head. 
“I got you water, and some food- I have no idea if you ate or not.” Is the first thing you tell him when he stumbles out of the house and into your car. 
Heeseung’s one drowsy blink away from falling asleep, and you have to shake him away to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep with a hangover. “Hee!” You rush to park on a random sidewalk before unbuckling your seatbelt. 
You brush back his red hair, pushing his curly bangs away and wiping the sweat from his forehead. He slowly blinks, adjusting to the proximity between you two. You shove a water bottle in his hand before getting a tissue to wipe the light sheen off of his skin. 
“What are you doing, hm?” And his voice, rough with exhaustion, has you quiet for a moment as your skin gets hot. 
Despite your heart thrumming faster, you force yourself to answer simply. “You’re going to have a hangover.” 
He opens his water, drinking almost a third before he leans back. “My head still hurts.” He whines, and you have to laugh. 
“Here,” you suggest, opening the tupperware of fried rice. “Eat.” 
He refuses, continuing to drink from his water, and you don’t have it in you to be annoyed at him. Instead, you grab a spoon. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” You mumble, starting to break up the fried egg and mix it all together.
After the first bite, “It’s good,” He says simply. “I’m glad I got to see you.” 
You feel the incessant pounding in your eardrums and your whole face feels hot. “Eat, before you throw up.” 
“I missed you.” Despite the harmless intention, you can’t stand to let Heeseung sweet-talk you, and it almost frustrates you to know there’s no weight to his words.
You roll your eyes at him and force him to finish his water. “Sober up before you get home.” 
In the quiet of the night, in the small neighborhood with everyone asleep, no one would know about the loudness of your chest, about how his eyes still hold his twinkle as he gazes tiredly at you, letting him dote on him. 
You continue to make sure he drinks and eats, and you’re so engrossed in taking care of him that you don’t realize how little the distance is between you. Making eye contact with him leaves you stunned into silence, but Heeseung says nothing to dispel what’s between you two. He reaches up, his palm cupping your jaw, and you swear, past the alcohol, there’s the faint fresh scent of the ocean, one that you recognize from being around him so often. 
You hold your breath, keeping the box in your steady as you wait for what he’s about to do next. He stares in silent question, glancing only to your lips and back up. It’s like time doesn’t even pass anymore, like a moment written in eternity when you brush away some of his hair.
You swear you’re about to kiss Lee Heeseung for the first time in your life. 
Instead, you cough and duck from his intimate stare, and he pulls away. The heat of his thumb still lingers on your cheek, and the way he looks at you doesn’t go unnoticed. 
“You’re feeling better, right? I’ll drive you home.” 
The wind whips against your window and the streets lay bare as you turn into his neighborhood. It’s all you can do. You can’t be in love, not with Heeseung. 
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Heeseung texts you profusely the next day, apologizing before he leaves the house to see you in person. ‘i’m sorry if anything happened last night, please let me know if I overstepped a boundary,’ and despite his words being through text, your mouth feels like it’s dried up, and that you have no idea what to tell him. You send him something vague about driving yourself, nothing that alludes to how your heart raced and skipped a few beats, and how you still think about the gentle way he caresses your jaw. 
How are you supposed to pretend things were the same? Like you weren’t watching him, like his gaze wasn’t with care, and his touches were not electric. How could you pretend that you weren’t slowly falling for Lee Heeseung?
“Did I,” He starts as he rushes through the door. “Did I do something wrong?” 
Shaking your head, you continue to crush up the cookies in their topping container. “I just don’t want to bother you with driving me around anymore.” 
“But you’re not a bother.” Heeseung can barely recall what happened yesterday, and he doesn’t know what caused your sudden lack of interest with your texts from the morning. “Look, ____-” 
In a desperate attempt to push down your unreturned feelings and return things to how they were, you cut him off. “Heeseung, drop it.” 
The day stretches for an eternity, and Heeseung knows something’s wrong. As one last chance to fix things before he goes, he speaks up. “Please, what did I do?” 
And you want to oh-so desperately tell him that last night, you were about to kiss, that the distance between you two was so finite and the way he looked at you had your stomach churning with butterflies. That somewhere, you realized just how similar you two were- that Lee Heeseung understood hard work, he paid attention to the little things, he related to and comforted you in the times that you felt like you were never enough. And those are just the handful of reasons why. You never knew just how well you truly knew him until you evaluated the years you’ve spent together. Some things you pick up subconsciously; like the way he fidgets or nervously smiles when a girl asks for his number, or the way he always looks back at you when he rejects her advances. It’s weird how quickly the knots that made your relationship so complicated suddenly untangle. It’s really just this long windy string that connects you and him, and within the miscommunication, it’s gone awry. 
You and him are in the same vein, and with how much time you spend with each other, it’d be criminal if you didn’t slowly fall for the way he sings along the radio or how he started to open your door. He cares, in all of the minuscule tiny ways that make your heart ache so terribly. “Nothing, it’s…” It’s almost sick how your mind immediately wanders to some stupid scenario where you and Heeseung ended whatever was going on between you two, and you admitted feelings to each other. Heeseung drives you around in his car, Heeseung comes to your house with baked goods he made himself, Heeseung’s eyes glitter when you two get good scores on a test, telling you how happy he is. “It’s just nothing.” You tell him, not really sure what to make of your feelings at all. And while your emotions towards the boy are new and fresh, they're so real- it snowballs fast.
“It’s not nothing if something’s changed between us.” He reasons, a look in his eye begging you to explain. 
“It should be nothing, Heeseung. We’ve never gotten along, so what’s the difference now?” The words leave a burn on your tongue, and you hate the way Heeseung looks away for a moment before he agrees. 
“Right.” He says, monotone and lifeless. “Why bother?” 
And you’re angry with yourself for the way you nod, taking your things. You want to scream in his face that you’ve begun to tolerate Lee Heeseung, in more ways than one. You don’t just tolerate him- you appreciate him, you care for him, you want him to be yours. 
“Okay- Hee, wait.” You falter in your decisions, your heartstrings pulling you in an enchanting way towards him- against all rational. “I’m sorry.” You can’t let a good thing go, you can’t risk never talking to him again, simply because you don’t know what it’s like to live life without him. You see him in every memory, in every class photo, and you can’t bear to be the reason you two stop talking- all because you were too scared to speak your mind.
He turns around, waiting for you to continue, crossing his arms as he proceeds to lean against the counter. If you were honest with yourself, you’d admit that Lee Heeseung is one of the most attractive people you’ve met. 
“Do you mean it?” You ask, feeling foolish. He should be asking you that- after what you’ve just told him.
Heeseung takes a step closer, his gaze on the ground as he nears the cash register, slowly closing the distance between you two.
“Do you mean it?” He asks, his voice small. There’s still space between you two, and it feels like oceans apart. And you soak up his words for consideration, truly questioning if you did. 
“No, Heeseung-“ You stare at the blinds, looking around the space only to realize just how secluded you two were- that no one outside of the bakery would know just what loops and hurdles you two had been through to get here. “I could never. I shouldn’t have said it.” 
“Is it true, then? That we get along, now?” His slow steps finally leave the crunching of his shoes in front of you, and you nod your head. And after he sees your confirmation, he continues. “How do you feel about me, ____?”
Your surprised gaze meets his, and you see the small smile on his lips, and the almost playful look in his eye indicating that he’s not really hurt anymore.
“I hate you, Lee Heeseung.” You say, emboldened by his teasing. “I hated you for spilling all of that applesauce on me when we were eight, I hate how you get along with everyone, I hate how you act like you’re better than me.” You pause, to think of more, but his hand reaches up to cup your chin, pointing up to make sure you’re looking at him. 
“I hate all that humming you do at work,” you start, your voice small, feeling shy now that he’s forced to make eye contact (which is extremely attractive and turns your legs into jelly). “Or your piping skills, or how good your macarons taste compared to mine.”
Heeseung is so dangerously close, like how you were just last night. “What else?” He goads you on, wanting to hear just how much more you have left. 
“I hate everything about you,” You barely murmur above a whisper with him being so close to you. “But I’d hate it if you didn’t return my feelings, either.” 
He smiles, finally hearing you admit the very things that’s been plaguing your relationship with the idea of more. 
“Anything more to add?” 
You scoff, reaching up and tangling your hands in his hair. The last thing that reaches Lee Heeseung’s ears are the words, “You’re so annoying,” before you crash your lips into his. 
Your kiss with Heeseung satisfies a longing that’s lasted for a while- to know what it felt like to be so close to him, to kiss his rosy lips just once. It’s tantalizing- the way you can’t pull away, and the way he doesn’t let you with how his hand rests on your lower back to pull you closer. When your hold on his hair loosens slightly, he gingerly lets you lean back. Your forehead comes to rest with his as you open your eyes, letting out a slow breath as you think about the ghost of his kiss on your lips. He’s hesitant to separate from you completely, and rests his hand on your waist instead. 
You smile, biting your lip so you don’t giggle like an excited girl who’s just told her friends about a measly interaction with her crush. Your heart feels like a floating balloon, and your lips stretch into a grin, prompting Heeseung to smile at you, too. 
An idiot. That’s what you both look like. But when Lee Heeseung presses a small kiss on your forehead and intertwines your fingers, you couldn’t care less. 
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“Heeseung, stop piping heart macarons, it’s embarrassing.” He rolls his eyes at you and adjusts the piping bag with red macaron batter inside. 
He mimics you childishly, and you want to scoop the lemon curd to plop on his head. “Stop piping heart macarons, yeah, okay, so why do I see you eating them?”
“I don’t. I’d never.” You’re lying, and you both know that, but Heeseung entertains your false narrative a bit more. 
“I’ll have you know, the lady at the law firm a few blocks down came here earlier and ordered some of them.” He retorts. You stick your tongue out at him and continue to mix the drink you’ve been preparing.
“What does she want them for, hm? I can imagine she’s in the season of love in July.” He laughs at your childish comment, continuing to pipe out almost identical hearts onto the baking sheet. 
“Maybe she loves her partner so much and wants to shower them in affection.” He grins, alluding to your relationship. You want to flick him across the forehead, rolling your eyes and walking over after finishing your drink for a to-go order. 
With an elbow on the counter, you watch him from the side as he diligently fills in the heart outlines. “You’ve always liked my macarons, though.” He reminds you. “Remember? You said it when we k-“
“Can you shut up about that?” You cut him off, feeling embarrassed. “It was like- a month ago.” 
It’s your exasperation that fuels him to tease you further. “It was a good kiss, was it n-“
You bump his shoulder, and he messes up one of the macarons, pausing before looking up at you. “Hey!” He whines, frowning. “These are supposed to be for that lawyer, remember?” 
You roll your eyes, and you know when Heeseung lies through his teeth. “Yeah, yeah,” You mutter, using a clean finger to wipe at the edge to make it look nice once more. You play along with his lie. “And we definitely fell in love because of cupid.” 
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my baby is done!! as always pleaseeeeee let me know what you think!! even if it is just 'hdefhjfhds' that means the world to me!!!
reblogs are appreciated!! reblogs w comments are da best and asks !! let me know what you think NO JUDGEMENT!
tagging @sumzysworld !
send ask or dm if you'd like to be added to my perm taglist
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shiny-jr · 5 months ago
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- Warning: None really. Gender-neutral reader. 
- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.
- Summary: You work a minimum wage job when a fae takes an interest after you jokingly asked him "will you adopt me?"
- Note: I planned for this to be a platonic yandere thing, but really it's only silly thoughts so I don't really plan to continue this unless y'all want. I don't even have a name for it.
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Thinking about an AU where...
You were born a regular magicless person in Twisted Wonderland. Which was a travesty, but not too uncommon, as there were plenty of beings in this world that were incapable of magic. It was considered a privilege to be born with such capabilities. A privilege.
Which was likely why the world seemed catered specifically for magic users. Magic users were the cream of the crop, the best of the best. In the social hierarchy, magic users reined on top. That's just how things were. It wasn't discriminatory. It was merely the nature of society. If a company was looking to hire, of course they would inquire if potential employees could use magic. And of course, they were more likely to choose magic users to fill the positions. That explained why you could only find work as a minimum wage telemarketer, but it was better than nothing.
Random numbers generated and numerous attempts, scripted greetings you've said so much you could recite them in your sleep. As soon as you get an answer of "mmmyello?" a casual and exaggerated hello, you go off on the scripted greeting to advertise the product.
Shockingly, the person on the other end doesn't immediately hang up. They merely hum at your words, occasional shifting heard on the other end.
By the tone and voice, you've deduced that it's a rather relaxed guy. A conversation ensues, and although he doesn't sound all that interested in making a purchase, he doesn't get annoyed by your call. In fact, he continues to chat, seemingly amused by you and willing to share details such that he had a son and two others he fondly cared for.
The man, whom referred to himself as Lilia, mentioned he lived in Briar Valley. How odd, as it was common knowledge that the valley didn't have the best connection with technology due to their preference towards magic. He spoke of his well-mannered son and the other two boys he helped raise, one was a loud son of a dentist and the other was a quiet son of longtime family friends. By this time you were imagining an older gentleman with three young boys no older than ten.
He seemed to care so fondly for them that in the middle of the pleasant conversation, you couldn't help but jokingly ask, "Will you adopt me?"
The line was silent and you were mortified as you remembered this was supposed to be business talk, and your calls were likely being recorded. After what must've been shock, he began to laugh on the other end, and you immediately ended the call in your panic.
Why did you say that? You shouldn't have said that– Damn it, right when you were just gonna test the waters to see if he wanted the insurance package! Well, there went your big catch of the day. The rest of the evening was failed attempts, either deadlines or potential customers just hung up as soon as you spoke. Things were looking bleak.
Eventually, not even a week later, you received a letter. A letter, not an email, that was written much like how you expected the contents of a letter from the medieval ages to sound. Starting with: Salutations, Telemarketer–– and after several paragraphs, ending with ––That is why I am now interested in your deal! I will need your assistance, because I have not a single clue about how insurance works.
There was no number, and you couldn't recall the one you had reached him through, so there was no choice but to resort to the old fashioned way. Through letters. Although it would be a hassle and an interaction that would likely last for weeks just for one deal, a customer was a customer, and this would be your first one in so long. However, when you agreed to speak to him, you didn't actually expect him to show up at your doorstep. The voice you recognized, but he was not what you had in mind. He looked to be your age, short with magenta highlights in his black hair and wide red eyes accompanied by a fang-toothed smile. And pointed ears, the sign of fae. Of course he was a fae, that made total sense as to why he spoke as if he were older. He probably was older, much older than you previously thought.
Lilia wore a constant smile, listening but also not listening when you tried your best to explain what insurance was to a fae that had never once needed it.
"Do you get it now...?" You asked finally, after a lengthy explanation to which he barely asked any questions. All he did was nod up and down.
There was a brief pause. "Yesss..." That sounded uncertain, but he didn't appear to care too much as he noticed your bag with only the minimum in it like keys and a thin wallet. Along with the time. "Shouldn't you be on your lunch break now?"
"Yes, but... I don't eat lunch. I'm not hungry." A lie. You were hungry, but it wasn't easy to get lunch on a minimum wage salary alone. You'd eat something for dinner.
Lilia seemed to sense this, somehow detecting your lie. "Hm... Well, I like you. And I'm not about to let a child starve on my watch."
"A child...?" You stared at him incredulously. This fae was practically the same size as you, maybe even shorter. "I'm over––"
"Uh-huh, just nod and come along." He instructed, holding up a finger to gently shush you as he waved you along to follow beside him. "If your age only has two numbers in it, then in my eyes, you're like a toddler."
Lunch was surprisingly nice, as Lilia was quite eccentric but excellent at holding a conversation. He seemed wise and witty, making a great combination. However, you couldn't help but wonder what a fae from Briar Valley was doing here, as it was known that most faes preferred not to leave the valley.
"It's getting late, I do have to be going..." Lilia sighed, before turning to you and his smile softened. "Would you like to see my boys I told you about? It won't take long."
Did he live close by? That was the only plausible explanation you could think of, since Briar Valley was a whole continent away. It only made sense that he lived nearby if he were here now. Maybe he was one of the few fae that chose to leave the valley.
This was quickly disproven when he held your hand and told you to stay still, when it felt like you were hurled through space. A gust of wind slapping your face, your eyes momentarily seeing a kaleidoscope of colors, you felt sick when suddenly your surroundings were darker.
Dark brick walls like black, candles lighting the space, gray stone floors... definitely not the outside of the cafe you were just standing in front of moments ago. Teleporation magic...? He was a fae, and all faes had magic. You only had milliseconds to recover and swallow the rising bile in your throat, as Lilia pulled you into an open space like a courtyard where light filtered in. However, in this space there were training dummies and swords instead of flowers and butterflies.
"Come, come, meet my boys. The ones I've told you about!"
You immediately paled. When you heard boys, you were expecting young children no bigger than half your height. Instead you were met with three towering men with forbidding expressions.
Two of which were dressed in dark metallic armor and lowering sharpened weapons. The one on the left was a bit taller, with green hair and sharp eyes that pierced you like a blade. The one on the right was the shorter of the two, but that didn't make him any less intimidating with his gray hair and aurora eyes on an expression as cold as ice.
And the last, the last was recognizable anywhere. Black robes and majestic black horns like a crown with slitted green eyes that seemed to glow and peer into your very soul. That was the prince of the valley, a fae with unrivaled and frightening levels of magic.
"This is Sebek, Silver, and Malleus. They've so looked forward to meeting you ever since I told them about you after our pleasant telephone chat yesterday!"
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astonmartinii · 5 months ago
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home ties | charles leclerc social media au
pairing: charles leclerc x fem bff!reader
got a home race curse? that's no match for the power of friendship
MASTERLIST | TIP JAR
yourusername
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liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 31,498 others
tagged: yourbestfriend
yourusername: today i start my pilgrimage across europe - i.e. i'm a 20 something who is inter railing to try and 'find herself' BUT i shall be stopping at any church i can find, bestie @charles_leclerc we're getting that home win this season
view all comments
user1: INTER RAILING? BUT BUT BUT WHAT ABOUT CHARLES?
user2: this better be a SHORT trip because i need her in the ferrari garage this season
charles_leclerc: don't have too much fun without me :(
yourusername: iMPOSSIBLE
charles_leclerc: good i hope you miss me everyday
yourusername: like a wife waiting for her husband to come home from the war
charles_leclerc: why am i not the wife?
yourusername: i mean you're the one going here, there and everywhere
charles_leclerc: but i'm the pretty one?
yourusername: die ❤️
charles_leclerc: do you or do you not have a picture of me in your locket?
yourusername: do you or do you not want me to lay offerings for wins this season?
charles_leclerc: noted.
user3: these fools are so dear to me
user4: i know we need positive male and female friendship representation but like god i need them to fall in love
pierregasly: so fuck me then?
yourusername: is your name charles leclerc?
pierregasly: i have known you just as long as charles
yourusername: so has max and este you don't see them bitching up a storm in this comment section
maxverstappen1: i mean i just about to but ummmmmm have fun travelling!
estebanocon: i am very secure in our friendship.... some people not so much
pierregasly: i will spit in your coffee
estebanocon: it's already on the top shelf, good luck goblin!
yourusername: okay............ but thanks max!
user5: i love how most of this grid grew up together - not because it's cute but because they're all rude to each other
user6: they'll cry over each other's wins but won't follow each other on instagram
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charles_leclerc
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liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 1,207,683 others
charles_leclerc: an okay start to the season. get well soon carlos!
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user8: @yourusername i know you're on your travels but you really need to get your ass back in the garage
charles_leclerc: trying real hard not to blame her rn
yourusername: skill issue
charles_leclerc: HOW DARE YOU
yourusername: if you need me to perform, then babe that's on you
charles_leclerc: is it really a crime to want my best friend with me at races
yourusername: did you not include my letters to you in your very instagram dump
charles_leclerc: but those are just letters :(
yourusername: just letters? i see. i guess i won't send any more
charles_leclerc: NO I'M SORRY PLEASE KEEP SENDING THEM
user9: i'm so sorry but this is too cute to not be romantic
user10: i know platonic soulmates exist but damn they're making it real hard to not believe they're in love
user11: they're either in love or charles is a puppy with severe separation anxiety
pierregasly: have you considered that he could be both
user12: HUH?
yourusername: regardless .... i'm proud of you doofus
charles_leclerc: thank you pookie
carlossainz55: do i not get a get well soon? anything?
yourusername: i'm glad you didn't die?
carlossainz55: i guess i'll take it
user13: y/n is unapologetically a hater
yourusername: no i'm just a charles stan first and foremost
user14: as you should
yourusername
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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 39,412 others
tagged: yourbestie
yourusername: yeah i'm here in the middle of a random forest eating hard pasta but charles was back on the podium so more candles and offerings coming your way
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yourbestie: do we have to stop in every church?
yourusername: YES
user15: i need someone as passionate about me in my life
yourusername: i am COmMITTED TO THE CAUSE
yourbestie: too committed i'm tired
yourusername: sit back and enjoy the stain glass windows let me do the work
user16: i feel like i'm having charlesxy/n withdrawals already
charles_leclerc: me too
user17: instagram live? twich? TWITTER SPACES? i'll do anything
yourusername: babe i'm in the middle of the forest
charles_leclerc: i thought you'd make it work for me but i see how it is
yourusername: stop i will cry and run home
yourbestie: ?
charles_leclerc: i'm sorry, enjoy your travels i just miss you
yourusername: i miss you too :(
yourbestie: gross
maxverstappen1: so like how do we go about getting you light candles for us?
pierregasly: good luck bro
yourusername: first of all, ew. second of all, no. third of all, YOU DON'T NEED THE HELP
maxverstappen1: okay damn tough crowd
charles_leclerc: you've not got the leclerc charm buddy
maxverstappen1: i've seen the 2012 haircut clearly charm was needed
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charles_leclerc
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liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 1,409,562 others
tagged: yourusername
charles_leclerc: look who's backkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
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user20: phew i thought he was gonna die from separation anxiety for a second there
maxverstappen1: he's just dramatic
yourusername: so you don't want the souvenir i got you
maxverstappen1: I DO I DO I DO
yourusername: you know what you have to do
maxverstappen1: ugh. i'm sorry charles, your weird need to be with y/n at all times is kind of cute (if you weren't 26 years old already)
user21: the fact he's so pumped for her to be back - fave duo ever
user22: not to be that one freak but the last picture is looking very girlfriend to me
user23: you make a good point but i don't wanna get my hopes up just yet
user24: was his separation anxiety not enough? i feel like there's no way he could be in another relationship when he wants to be with her so often
yourusername: i'm glad to be back - the wilderness was lovely but nothing compares to you
charles_leclerc: teehee
yourusername: and i get to be reunited with my favourite gal pascale and light votives together
charles_leclerc: my lucky charms for real
pierregasly: i mean only one person has been there for each of your wins in f1 just saying
yourusername: so i'm sorry pierre i'm SORRY THAT MY APPENDIX NEEDED TO COME OUT
yourusername: but i do believe it contributed to the win
charles_leclerc: it did cause i raced so fast so i could get to your side quicker
yourusername: awwww a real gentleman (take notes pierre)
user25: how can they not be in love ^^^ LOOK AT THE MATERIAL PEOPLE
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yourusername
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liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 59,304 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
yourusername: this is the set up for monaco week
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user28: babe is taking up residency in saint devote that's crazy
user29: idk what she's doing but the moon was red ... is she really going to manifest the home win
yourusername: if i can, yes! but if he does win it's all charlie and his talent
user30: ugh you guys are so cute
charles_leclerc: having you back and racing in monaco? best week ever
yourusername: it will be
pierregasly: once again no good lucks for us
maxverstappen1: i'm really starting to think our childhood meant nothing to you
yourusername: booooo the home town hero is obviously the one i'm supporting
maxverstappen1: you told me to "choke on your cock" when i asked if you would watch from my garage in zandvoort
yourusername: welllllllllll
pierregasly: just admit you have a favourite
yourusername; fine, charlie is my favourite
charles_leclerc: :)))))
pierregasly: :((((
yourusername: you asked me to???
user31: i don't know who will be happier if charles wins monaco charles or y/n?
charles_leclerc: i know who would cry more
yourusername: i'm a big crier and proud
alexalbon: not you guys coming for my albon_pets brand
yourusername: don't pit the kids against each other
charles_leclerc: let us be dog parents in peace alex
user32: so like that's their dog.... they're together?
user33: they're so confusing
user34: i mean it's so obvious they're in love so a dog really isn't that crazy
charles_leclerc
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liked by pierregasly, joris_trouche and 3,874,099 others
tagged: yourusername
charles_leclerc: monaco finally loves me back (and so does she)
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user35: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
user36: i am NOT okay
yourusername: so unbelievably proud of you charlie, you deserve this more than anyone and you've made everyone proud ❤️ 🤍
charles_leclerc: thank you my love xx you've always believed in me and i'm so glad i could share this moment with you
yourusername: you're the love of my life and i would do anything for you
charles_leclerc: you already have <3
yourusername: i would light every votive i can find again if it brings you joy like this again
charles_leclerc: you bring me all of my joy
user37: they're so cute your honour
user38: lowkey forgot that they confirmed their relationship because the win was simply hitting too hard
user39: it's hitting like crack and it will be the only thing i talk about for the rest of my life
pierregasly: congratulations calmar!! i knew you could do it and i'm very happy for you both xx
charles_leclerc: thanks brother, you next
yourusername: we love you pear !!
maxverstappen1: I KNEW IT
charles_leclerc: that i would win my home race?
maxverstappen1: yeah, yeah... congrats but I KNEW YOU FOOLS WERE IN LOVE
yourusername: yeah you and about a million other people, we weren't that secretive
maxverstappen1: let me have this one thing
user40: yeah this is the worst kept secret in the world
yourusername: sorry guys but have you seen my boyf, there's no way i wouldn't be showing that off
charles_leclerc: HAVE YOU SEEN MY GIRLFRIEND???
yourusername: awwwww i love you
charles_leclerc: and i love you too
fin.
note: here's a small one to celebrate charles finally winning his home race, i won't lie i did cry. idk it's when he brought up his dad it just started the waterworks but i'm so proud of my lil millionaire racer guy :)))
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