#...and actually it's just going to be changed for a different type of not together

[conclaveconfessions]

I'm not og anon but, imho when I started reading conclave fanfic I also sometimes felt like the Catholic yaoi is not Catholic enough, that being said if you go to the book Vincent literally says he isn't afraid of a schism. So I understand why people write him like that. it's a bit difficult to write the character differently. I don't quite agree with the notion that he wouldn't care about his vows or see them as irrelevant, because it's a whole thing in the book as well, but the whole confession stuff was actually so weird ajdjdn. I think book!Vincent is complicated in a way that perhaps has to do with the author not knowing how to make the theme land. And movie!Vincent is just this unknowable figure, really. Like "Vincent thinks it's ok so he ropes Lawrence in, who is so devout to him that he lets go" is not... A totally incorrect interpretation of the characters. It's AN interpretation, that yeah, protestants and atheists would be more partial to.

But there are different types of Catholics, and some are more progressive than others. And not everyone upholds his vows.

If we're talking about celibacy vows there are many justifications on how or why a priest would fuck. Youd have to guess the thought process of any given character except Lawmeli, and you can get creative with it. Someone like Tedesco might outright believe he's above it even if he's a traditionalist, something something cognitive dissonance.

The only place where I do care is extremely petty and has nothing to do with care for the scriptures and just on my understanding in how religion works as an atheist that grew up in a Catholic society, and it's when fanfics make Thomas and Vincent "marry" each other. Like my brain literally can't compute it and I just ignore it or outright skip it ajsjdjdj

I 100% understand this is poetic language (tho not always) and yet-

I'm always like... but they are Catholic priests... They're "married" to the Church... Even if they were a straight couple/the church was nice to gays it's just not possible... I have a friend and her parents are married evangelical pastors and the first six months of friendship I kept forgetting and remembering this fact and my brain said: ... That's not how religion works.....

But that's like, my gut feeling. Obviously religion works in many different ways. My friend has like legit religious trauma because her parents do not like that she's queer (she liked conclave btw sjdjdj).

This is a small cultural bias (I knew in other religions priests can marry but I constantly forgot) that is actually Huge in terms of how the characters relate to each other. They would never consider themselves husbands, as long as they're pope and cardinal... And this has to rattle their brains ajsjddj how do you, top dog of THE catholic church, rationalize your union to the eyes of god? Compartmentalize? Ignore it? Confess all the time? Change your whole POV? It's tricky! It's interesting! It's also mostly absent in some Conclave fanfic. It doesn't seem to be a question. It's ok if your answer is "oh but it's fine because we love each other c:", but it could be more of a challenge to get there. Also I don't buy the explanation that "well some Catholics allow priests to marry". Not these Catholics ajsjdnd

So if you're wondering: what does someone with a Catholic background might feel it's missing? Sometimes it's not even about anything scriptural and it's really just the vibes of forbidden love and guilt. Bartender, more guilt please!!! At least to me that was the feel. It's not called catholic guilt for nothing.

Eh, actually, it's not that it's not present, but it's usually not developed from Vincent's perspective, and that's the thing, I think.

If you rewrite Vincent to be sexually active prior to the conclave it all ties together more neatly, he can be the instigator to Lawmeli's desire and, I like it, but if he held onto his vows... Why? Why now and not before? Why Lawmeli? Is that why you are marrying them? You think he thinks in marriage is less sinful? Why? Oh, you say he doesn't care/believe in sin? Then why didn't he break his vows before then? Why were his vows important before but not now? Was breaking his vows a sin before but now that he's pope he can deem them not a sin now? Is his lust just that big? But then, doesn't he feel guilty about it? Because it kinda seems like he should feel conflicted about it, if he held to his vows all his life only to break them after becoming Pope.

You can take this in so many different directions but for that, it needs to be a conflict first. But if you're protestant, and you had a married priest growing up, maybe it just wouldn't occur to you. You "know" catholic priests don't marry or have sex, but you don't feel anything about it, so when you write conclave porn, they don't care about it. If Vincent is fine with being an intersex priest he would be fine with sex, right? But would he? And why?

Take this with a grain of salt given the atheism. Maybe an actual catholic can reply in earnest.

~

[thepeaklegendoffirstgen]

Goo always did things his own way, and today was no different.

You thought that on your rare day off, the two of you would spend it curled up at home. But, of course, your man wasn’t the type to rest. Life was short, and the night was young.

He had booked the entire ice skating rink just for the two of you.

The only problem? Neither of you actually knew how to skate.

He’d been eyeing this activity since last year, and now, finally, he got to show off. Except the way he just fell flat on the ice nearly gave you a heart attack. How were you supposed to learn anything if the self-proclaimed expert was already face first on the ground?

"Are you okay?" you asked, rushing over.

But Goo immediately scrambled to his feet, pretending nothing had happened.

"Just a little accident, sweetheart. Happens when professionals take a hiatus," he said, brushing off his pants like some retired Olympian.

"Very professional. I can see that," you replied with a too sweet smile.

He grimaced and extended a hand. "Come on, let’s take a round together?" he asked, throwing in a wink.

"No. Absolutely not. Stop lying. You’re not a professional, and I’m not in the mood to die today," you snapped, backing away and gripping the railing tightly. You decided it was safer to inch along the edge, one unsteady step at a time.

Goo stared at you, wounded. Betrayed, even. How could you question his skills like this? Didn’t you know nothing would happen to you under his watch?

Before you could blink, he skated over and cornered you.

"I planned this so we’d both enjoy it, and you left me out there to freeze alone!" he whined, grabbing your arm to pull you away from the wall.

You clung to the railing for dear life, glaring at him. "Back off, Goo!"

But he didn’t listen. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he started trying to twirl you on the spot.

You shouted for help. Not that it mattered, no one was coming. The rink was completely empty. It was just the two of you in this ridiculous chaos.

But slowly, his grip steadied, his movements gentler. His hands were firm and supportive around your waist as he guided you forward.

"You’ve got to practice in the open, not stick to the wall like a scared little rat," he scoffed.

"A rat to rat conversation we’re having, huh? You’re not a professional, Goo. Can we just go do something else, please?" you sighed. But... to your surprise, you were actually skating. Kind of. He was leading you well, and it wasn’t so bad after all.

You both found a decent rhythm, slowly circling the rink. For once, Goo was quiet, and the silence made you a little uneasy.

"This is… good," you said, filling the quiet.

"Hmph. Told you so," he muttered.

You came to a stop just as soft snow began to fall. The breeze stung your cheeks, and you let go of his hand to blow warm air into your palms, only for him to grab your hands back, rubbing them between his own to warm them.

"Thanks," you said, catching the strangely serious look in his eyes. "Are professional ice skaters always this quiet too?"

"Professional ice skaters," he pouted, "feel hurt when the love of their life doesn’t trust them. When sh thinks they’ll let her die on the ice."

Ah. So that was it. Of course, it was Goo, he’d find drama even in a joke.

He launched into a full monologue about how you never trusted him, not even once. To shut him up, or maybe just to poke him more, you smirked and said, "If I slipped away… would you catch me in time?"

He went still.

"Of course. What do you take me for—" he began, but you cut him off with a kiss.

He hummed in response, not needing to say anything more. Because the truth was, no matter what, he would cross oceans or climb mountains for you. He couldn’t even entertain the idea of failing you, not for a second. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he didn’t need to.

When you pulled away, your foreheads resting together, you murmured, “I know you won’t, silly. You were being too quiet, I had to push your buttons.”

You laughed softly, and as snowflakes settled into your hair, he felt something tug, a twist in his chest. A mix of dread and peace.

After all the chaos with Charles Choi… the things Goo had done, the people he’d crossed… he knew the danger around him wasn’t over. Things were only going to get worse. But if there was one thing he hoped for amidst all that uncertainty, it was you. That you would stay.

He remembered how scared you’d been when he came home with a sword wound. How your hands shook, how your voice cracked. For a moment, he thought you were going to leave too. Just like his friend had once chosen to walk away, maybe you would too. Maybe you’d think it was better, safer, without him.

But instead, you stayed up all night. You treated his wound, made sure he could sleep, watched over him like he wasn’t some broken thing.

That’s why he hoped, desperately, that you’d stay for many more nights and days. As long as your laughter echoed in his chest, he could keep going.

“Having too much fun?” he asked.

"Wouldn’t want to inflate your ego," you drawled with a lazy smile. "But with you… it’s always fun."

You tugged him back into motion for another spin.

This time, Goo tried to lift you off the ground in a dramatic move. The two of you, wobbling fools, twirled across the rink without a care in the world. You completely forgot the fact that you still didn’t know how to skate properly.

One wrong slip...and boom!

Well, the hospital bill wasn’t too bad. And if nothing else, you had each other, fractured limbs and all. No noise, no interruptions.

Totally worth it!

[kyouka-supremacy]

do you think atsushi could ever be possessive toward akutagawa or feel jealousy? (not jealous of his strength bc that’s a little canon isn’t it? but just jealous when akutagawa’s interacting with others??)

i think jealousy mainly stem from insecurity or lack of trust in your partner, so if we’re talking about post-“away with you, you fool”, i think atsushi really doesn’t have any “grounds” to be possessive / jealous. he understands how strongly akutagawa feels for him and if he reflects on their partnership…he’s also get that akutagawa’s the one who ��opened up” first, and (kinda) unconditionally. obviously atsushi’s self worth is abysmal, but weirdly enough…i think he’d kinda feel secure in akutagawa’s affections for him????

akutagawa is the jealous type. in a romantic setting i can kinda see him uplift atsushi in his head whilst hating himself, and that making him feel unloveable comparatively or just in general and insecure hence leading to jealousy. or the uplifting might just mean he’s resigned to losing atsushi, atsushi’s too good for him after all, this is the best he can get (hence being so insecure that he’s not being jealous —> he was not jealous when kyouka finding the light and living happily, even if he believed she was exactly like him, with a propensity for darkness and ability suited only for killing. yet he continues being the mafia’s dog and doesn’t seek that for himself, maybe out of resigning himself?)

idk if he’d act on it, but i can see those feelings existing. basically how they kinda exist already in canon with the whole dazai-akutagawa-atsushi thing, but even w the dazai case, it’s not to monopolise his attention exactly but moreso to fight for his reason to live, he wants the pain he endured to mean something, if no matter how hard he tries and no matter what he does, he simply loses due to his inherent nature (thus atsushi is the better protege even if he’s crap, atsushi never had to “earn” his blessings) that just proves that he shouldn’t have tried surviving in the first place, that’s pretty awful for someone who believes they can change and the past not having a bearing on who he is now- since it means he’ll never be worthy of approval. so i can’t see it as purely “he’s acting jealous just out of affection for dazai and desire for love” and i can’t precisely compare it to akutagawa in a romantic scenario.

sorry for yapping, please feel free to disagree w what i said, bc its something I’m confused on and idk how to analyse them like that. but the main question i have is does atsushi have the capacity for jealousy/possessiveness if akutagawa is his partner? and how about akutagawa? also how does their jealousy “look” (as in would they act on it?)thank you :D

So apparently Asagiri personally took it in their hands to answer this ask with this month's chapter lol

Starting off with Akutagawa, because it's something I actually think about often. I agree that his insecurity is so huge and deeply rooted, it would extend to making him believe he has no right to be jealous of Atsushi- because Atsushi is so good, and Akutagawa is so bad, it was inexplicable for them to be together in the first place; and part of Akutagawa is there waiting, expecting the fall out, because it's just unavoidable, because they're just too different, because he doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve Atsushi's love. Akutagawa's lack of self worth being so constraining, he pretty much lies in wait for the day Atsushi will leave him forever (and then is always caught off guard when Atsushi always comes back). Very relevant to this, and something I really like to stretch on, are Akutagawa's abandonment issues that spawn from the traumatic event of Dazai leaving him. Akutagawa expects the people he's the most attached to to grow sick of him and leave, and has little hope Atsushi is going to be any different. He's so abandoned dog coded.

But like, that doesn't change the fact that Akutagawa is jealous. Even if he doesn't think he deserves to be jealous to begin with, even if he would never admit it to himself, he is. He loves Atsushi, he loves him, he wants to keep him by his side, to sink his teeth in his flesh until he tastes his blood. His impulse to keep him is violent, greedy, instinctive, the same of people who grew up with nothing and thus are ready to fight with nails and teeth to protect what little they have. Of people who grew up with too little in a too vicious environment to ever become accustomed to sharing. Of people who grew up used to everything they care for being in constant danger of being stripped away from them.

But Akutagawa can't admit it, right? Not when he has no right to be jealous of Atsushi. So I'm sure Akutagawa's reaction to anything that would trigger that jealousy would be immense passive-aggressiveness and withdrawing into himself, shutting Atsushi out and trying to leave him first as a defense mechanism. A sudden relapse of building up those walls that Atsushi is so good at crushing down as soon as Akutagawa lets his guard down. Seething rage and joyless laughs and “I'm not upset. Actually, I've always know this is how it would end up. Everyone leaves and I'm meant for loneliness, there's no new discovery in this. I didn't care that much anyway.” A little of overacting, but the abandonment issues are real. According to the circumstance, Atsushi can get a little irritated (because there's really no need to be this dramatic), but they fight and then make up as they always do.

When it comes to Atsushi... I agree that with him it's not a kind of jealousy derived from insecurity or lack of trust in Akutagawa's affections. At the same time, I think he'd share Akutagawa's same greed of someone who was never used to own much, and thus is violently defensive and territorial with what he has. And Atsushi is pretty selfish, right? He wants to keep Akutagawa for him, and he's going to react aggressively to anything that threats to take him away.

By the way, Akutagawa is highkey flattered by that. He's so used to meet contempt and rejection that the thought of being reclaimed is simply dreamy for him. Because you know him, he's Akutagawa, he's fucked up, he could only respond to to possessiveness with delight. Forget about being abandoned, you mean to tell him there's someone who believes he's worth killing a god for? Sign him up for life! I'm 100% sure Akutagawa was full face blushing off screen in the last chapter, and couldn't maintain eye contact for too long.

[forbiddentaako]

more monochrome practice I suppose

[rachymarie]

Something something autism and things sounded better in my head

Something something schizospec and things sometimes sound worse in my head, but almost always sound even worse outside my head?

Much love to all neurodivergents out there who feel wrong out there for daring to be yourself

[moe-broey]

Why did I start like three other projects when I was already working on a big project when I just got hit with the autism exhaustion beam (requires. At least One Full Day just dead in bed, and then some more Taking It Easy time after)

[complainblogforthevoid]

I've finally figured out an argument that convinces coding tech-bros that AI art is bad.

Got into a discussion today (actually a discussion, we were both very reasonable and calm even through I felt like committing violence) with a tech-bro-coded lady who claimed that people use AI in coding all the time so she didn't see why it mattered if people used AI in art.

Obviously I repressed the surge of violence because that would accomplish nothing. Plus, this lady is very articulate, the type who makes claims and you sit there thinking no that's wrong it must be but she said it so well you're kind of just waffling going but, no, wait-- so I knew I had to get this right if I was gonna come out of this unscathed.

The usual arguments about it being about the soul of it and creation fell flat, in fact she was adamant that anyone who believed that was in fact looking down at coding as an art form as she insisted it is. Which, sure, you can totally express yourself through coding. There's a lot more nuance as to the differences but clearly I was not going to win this one.

The other people I was with (literally 8 people anti-ai against her, but you can't change the mind of someone who doesn't want to listen and she just kept accusing us of devaluing coding as an art) took over for I kid you not 15 minutes while I tried desperately to come up with a clear and articulate way to explain the difference to her. They tried so many reasonable arguments, coding being for a function ("what, art doesn't serve a function?") coding being many discrete building blocks that you put together differently, and the AI simply provides the blocks and you put it together yourself ("isn't that what prompt building is") that it's bad for the environment ("but not if it's used for capitalism, hm?" "Yeah literally that's how capitalism works it doesn't care about the environment" she didn't like that response)

But I finally got it.

And the answer is: It's not about what you do, it's about what you claim to be.

Imagine that someone asks an AI to write a code and, by some miracle, it works perfectly without them having to tweak it---which is great because they couldn't tell you what a single solitary thing in that code means.

Now imagine this person, with their code that they don't know how it works, goes and applies to be a coder somewhere, presenting this AI code as proof that they're qualified.

Should they be hired?

She was horrified, of course. Of course they shouldn't be. They're not qualified. They can't actually code, and even if by some miracle they did have an AI successfully write a flawless code for every issue they came across that wouldn't be their code, you could hire any shmuck on the street to do that, no reason to pay someone like they're creating something.

When actual engineers use AI what they do is get some kind of base, which they then go though and check for problems and then if they find any they fix them, and add on to the base code with their own knowledge instead of just trying different prompt after prompt until they randomly come across one that works.

People who generate code like this don't usually call themselves engineers. They're people who needed a bit of code and didn't have the knowledge to generate it, and so used a resource.

And there you go. There are people who have none of the skills of artists, they don't practice, they don't create for themselves. When they feed the prompt to the AI they then don't just use the resulting image as a reference point for their own personal masterpiece, and if they don't like it they don't have the skills to change it---they simply try another prompt, and do that until they get something they like.

These people are calling themselves artists.

Not only that, these people are bringing the AI generated thing to interviews, and they are getting hired, leaving people who slave over their craft out of the job.

And that is the difference, for the tech bros who think AI art isn't a big deal.

[hayatheauthor]

Can you post something about different kinds of soulmates? The name on the wrist or red strings are nice but a little overused, maybe. Idk. Do you have anything different?

50 Types of Soulmates in Literature

The soulmate trope might feel pretty cliche to most but I love exploring them (great short story material, esp if you want to twist it into horror/thriller/non romance). Thanks for the ask! I hope this list is what you were looking for: 

Fate-Driven Soulmates

1. Shared Dreams – They meet in their dreams every night/[idea] after they turn [age].

2. Reincarnation– They reincarnate in every era and are destined to meet each time.

3. Aura Bonds – Their auras [change] when they’re near each other.

4. Mirror Messages – They see the other’s face in the mirror when they turn [age].

5. Starbound – Their soulmate’s birth constellation forms on them after their first meeting.

6. Heartbeat Match – Their pulses sync when they meet and get more uneven when they’re apart after that.

7. Shared Memories – They have flashbacks of past lives together.

8. The First Words – Their first spoken words to each other are tattooed on their skin.

9. Fragrance – They recognise each other by a unique scent only one’s soulmate carries (i.e. in the world you can only smell roses on your soulmate).

10. Scars – They have matching scars in the same place since their birth.

11. Colour - They only start seeing colour after meeting their soulmate. Can be changed to sound, touch, smell, etc.

Cultural Soulmates

12. Mehndi Marks - In Indian/Middle Eastern cultures, your soulmate’s name appears in your mehndi/henna.

13. Karmic Threads - In Buddhist traditions, invisible karmic bonds pull them toward one another.

14. Feng Shui Alignment – Their energies perfectly balance according to the Feng Shui elements.

15. Ancestor's Blessing – Their names are revealed through a ritual that summons past ancestors.

16. Name in Flames – In some folk traditions, a fire ceremony reveals their soulmate’s initials in the embers.

17. Feather Match – They exchange feathers that later glow when their soulmate is near.

18. Shared Songlines – In Aboriginal traditions, their paths align on the same Songline.

19. Palm Reading Prophecy – Their soulmate’s features or initials are foretold in their palm lines.

20. Dance of Fate – In certain cultures, a soulmate is revealed during a traditional dance when they naturally pair up.

21. Persian Tea Leaves – Their names appear during tea-reading rituals.

Object-Based Soulmates

22. Lock and Key – Everyone is born with a keyhole shape. When you turn [age] you’re blessed with a key that only fits into your soulmate.

23. Shared Journal – They write in the same journal without knowing how.

24. Twin Trinkets – When born, each person receives a magical [trinket]. Your soulmate has its twin. 

25. Compass of Love – A compass always points them toward their soulmate.

26. Two Halves – They carry two halves of the same [object].

27. Enchanted Maps – A map updates itself with their location when they’re near.

28. Eternal Rings – Rings burn hot or glow when their soulmate is close.

29. Song – When they turn [age] they hear a song sung in their soulmate’s voice. (Interesting: in this world, MC hears nothing. They think they don’t have one, rly their soulmate is just mute). 

Connection Through Nature

30. Tree of Life – Their world has a special garden you go to when you’re [age]. In the garden, a tree starts to grow when two soulmates are near. Note: if they ‘break up’ or one dies, the tree wilts and dies too.  

31. Blooming Flowers – When your soulmate is born, you get a flower bud [different for each]. When you meet the first time, this bud goes into full bloom. If you pass without meeting, it dies. This continues till you actually meet, and the flowers finally [fall off?]

32. Animal Guides – At birth you’re assigned a spirit animal who leads you to your soulmate when the time is right. (Ooh maybe your spirit animals are soulmates too OR hmo: they’re enemies! You haven’t met your soulmate yet because your spirit animals are doing everything to keep you [and themselves] apart). 

33. Shifting Shadows – Their shadows always reach toward the other. When you sleep, your shadows break away and meet each other. 

34. Bound by Seasons – They only meet during a specific season each year. Kind of like a Divergent ‘born into a season’ thing. (But what if a Summer and Winter end up being fated? But they can’t survive in each other’s seasons. [omg Tinkerbell] lol). 

35. Ocean Whispers – It’s said if you go to the ocean’s shore and say something there your soulmate will hear it when they go to the shore. (MC’s soulmate hates the ocean. They’ve never been. One day they finally go, and sit for hours as they listen to messages from their soulmate, who apparently lives by the ocean and has been calling to them every night). 

36. Star-Written Names – When you turn [age] only you see a name written in the stars. That’s your soulmate’s name.

Unconventional Soulmate Tropes

37. Memory Keepers – One soulmate is bound to forget each other in each new life, and the other is fated to remember and find them. The other only remembers if and when they meet. 

38. Parallel Lives – They exist in parallel universes but see glimpses of each other via [plot].

39. Shared Illness – They feel each other’s pain, sickness, and recovery.

40. Shared Mortality – They can only die when they’re together.

41. The Final Wish – When you turn [age] you get to make a wish and your soulmate has to fulfil it in order for you to meet.

42. The Sacrificial Lamb – One is destined to save the other through ultimate sacrifice.

43. The Time Loop – They’re stuck in a loop, meeting repeatedly until they get it right.

44. Dual Souls – They share one soul in two bodies, feeling incomplete without the other.

45. The Undying and the Mortal – One reincarnates endlessly, always finding their soulmate, if they fail to find them, their soulmate will not reincarnate and die forever. Except, you don’t know who’s the immortal one. 

46. Time Stopper: Time stops when you’re with your soulmate. It starts again when you’re apart. 

Sense-Based Soulmates

47. Sight: When you close your eyes you can see what they’re seeing. 

48. Warmth: You feel physically cold everytime you’re without your soulmate. Your heart turns colder every year, till when you’re [age] you both die if you haven’t met.  

49. Colour: You can’t see your soulmate’s eye/hair colour till your first meeting. The issue: they don’t know the colour, so often overlook this change. (Many resort to checking a colour chart every day till they see a new colour). 

50. Touch: You can’t feel anything till your soulmate touches you for the first time. Everything simply feels like its weight, not texture. 

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, dubcon, yandere, omegaverse, forced/accidental bonding, subjugation

♡ part one

♡ fem reader

Once you wake up in the morning, you feel… changed.

Your body feels full—as though you’d indulged too much last night—heavy and sticky and sore all over. There’s a strange taste in your mouth—sweet, somewhat salty, and metallic. Geez, you’re head’s pounding—how much did you drink last night? No, this feels different from a hangover—more full-bodied than that—a withdrawal of some kind or another. You must have done more at the party than drink, and yet, you can’t remember having stayed there all that long. No, you left with someone. That’s right. You went with… that overgrown Omega.

Oh no.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

He comes in only wearing a pair of snug boxers—body stacked with brawn, not a single hint of Omega-like softness aside from his tousled bed hair. There’s a big toothy smile on his face—eyes are creased in cheer while carrying an overfull breakfast tray. You know you’re hungry, and yet you can’t bring yourself to feel anything but sick to your stomach by the horrid sight of his flaunted neck, decorated by a gory ring of your bitemark.

No. No, no, no, no, no! Fuck! “Tell me that’s not what I think it is…”

He laughs lightly with an awkward smile, apologetically scratching the back of his neck while balancing the tray in the other hand. “I’m afraid so…”

The world stops spinning, and for a moment, you think it might actually never start up again. Your throat snares, and you think you might throw up. How the fuck could this happen?

He sets the tray down next to you, then himself. The whole bed takes waves upon his weight. You remain still—eyes unrest and mouth hung.

“Hey, I know this might not be what we had planned, but…” he starts.

But you don’t let him finish before declaring, “I’ll take full responsibility.”

There’s nothing else to do, you think. The red string of fate has tied the two of you together. It’s sealed.

“There is no going back now.”

His face expresses shock, but if you’d taken a closer look, he’d probably not be able to hide it—the overwhelming sensation of victory. Oh, bless your Alpha pride. He knew you would say that.

He smiles softly. “I’m in your care then.”

It’s a work in progress after that—slow in the beginning, but that’s to be expected. You never pegged yourself to be the type who got caught up in the unmendable mistakes of a one-night stand, but then here you were—mated with a stranger, moving into his apartment because it’s bigger and closer to work, sharing the same bed and eating the same meals and helping each other through one another’s ruts and heats.

He's still no closer to being your type. In fact, he’s the total opposite—too giant to give you even a semblance worth of superiority over him. A couple of days ago, when he’d been searching for the remote in the couch you were lying on, he’d taken to pick you up instead of just asking you to move. It was completely humiliating. He’s so brazen, and it’s starting to become clear he’s doing it all on purpose!

He doesn’t get fussy when you state your claim of being the one on top—no, but what he does instead is somehow worse, going along with it with snide praise, grinning up at you, his big hands weighing heavy on your haunches as you roll them, calling you his good girl. It seems to humor him how it angers you—chuckling behind your hands as you layer them both atop his mouth, growling at him to “Shut up!”

No, he doesn’t mind letting you take charge. He rather enjoys the view of watching you ride—working so hard to appease him while he rests pretty and admires your body—all soft edges and plush curves. You tire quickly, though—poor thing, why don’t you leave the rest to him?

You had rejected it the first few times he’d offered. Your bruised pride simply wouldn’t have it—you’d rather you both stop than let him finish you off. But a couple more nights and you’d quicker come around than either of you expected—perhaps worn down by his constant nagging or simply fed up with your own failure—you let him assist by bouncing you on his lap.

You wouldn’t admit it to his face, never, but you’d enjoyed it far more than you could have ever thought…

Thankfully, your face in and of its own glory told him all he needed to know. It didn’t take long before he’d taken full advantage of it, nor for you to begin allowing it without being asked. Soon you were letting him fuck you against the wall, making the entire room shake—wall creaking and shelves rattling, pictures falling down. You hold your tongue and hold on tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him—moaning sweetly right by his ear. Fuck, you even bite him again.

As time passed, you came around to indulging more and more of his antics. Letting him fuck you from behind—hard and heavy and deep—thrusting into you while grappling your waist. You even go down on all fours when he does it—digging your claws into the sheets.

Lying belly-up beneath him still makes you feel nervous—and slightly ashamed—almost convinced something’s wrong with you for liking it. And yet you can’t help it. You know any other Omega wouldn’t fuck you like this. They wouldn’t have the stamina, the drive, or the desire. Not like him, who does it all like it’s his nature even when it shouldn’t be.

Guess you’re both freaks.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Gojo, Geto ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira, Isagi ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[myinaru]

Childhood Best Friend Complex

You and Heeseung have been best friends forever. Emphasis on forever. Like, learned-how-to-walk-together type of forever. But college throws a wrench into your usual routine: one night blurs a line that was never supposed to move, and suddenly, everything feels different. Now there’s weird tension, awkward silences, and unspoken things you’re both too stubborn to say out loud. You don’t know what’s worse, pretending nothing’s changed or admitting everything has. Because staying friends? That was always the plan. Wanting more? That was never supposed to happen.

Pairing: Lee Heeseung x Fem!Reader

Genre: College AU, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 39.6k Total (14.4k - Part 1)

Warnings: Dry humping (hell yeah), Corny maybe idc, Lots of misunderstanding, Mentions of multiple kpop idols, Cursing, Cunnilingus, Unprotected sex (pls don't), Praising, Heeseung is a yearner, Lmk if I missed anything lol

Author's Note: First time uploading here lol. This fic was heavily inspired by the manhwa/webtoon Childhood Friend Complex. I'll be splitting it into three parts since Tumblr won't let me post it in one go. Hope y'all enjoy T-T

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You and Heeseung had spent twenty chaotic years crashing into each other. Bickering, teasing, arguing like it was your first language. Now, you were slumped on the floor of his dorm, drunk and quiet, knees touching, the air between you strangely charged.

Heeseung didn’t move much. Just watched you with wide, unreadable eyes. His hand crept toward yours slowly, like even the thought of reaching for you was too loud. His fingers brushed yours. Then stopped.

His breath hit your cheek. It was warm. Uneven. And then, in the softest voice you’d ever heard from him, he said, “Do you... want to kiss?”

No smirk. No teasing. Just fear, and something he couldn’t hide fast enough. He’d never say it unless he thought you might say yes. Because if you didn’t, he wouldn’t know how to come back from it.

You froze, confused. “You’re drunk,” you said with a nervous laugh, nudging his arm.

Heeseung’s expression tightened. A flash of hurt crossed his face before he forced a laugh, too sharp to be real. “Yeah, I’m drunk. Fuck, Y/n. You really think...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Forget it. Stupid idea.”

He started to pull away, but his reflexes were off. His knee bumped into yours, and he hissed. More from the weight of rejection than pain. “Fuck. Stupid,” he muttered, catching himself against the wall. His eyes narrowed. “What’s your problem? Why are you... you never... God, forget it.”

You furrowed your brows, head spinning slightly. You grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving.

He stiffened at your touch, breathing heavily. For a moment, he just stared at you, searching your face like he was trying to read every single thought behind your eyes. His hand twitched in yours, like he wanted to pull you close but was holding back.

“Don’t play games with me,” he said softly, dangerously quiet. “Not tonight. Not after...” He swallowed hard. “God, Y/n. If you keep looking at me like that, I don’t know if I can...”

He broke off with a strangled sound, forehead leaning against yours. “Tell me I’m being stupid,” he whispered. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me it’s just the alcohol.”

You swallowed. “It might be the alcohol... but I’m not telling you I don’t want it. I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore... Can’t we just not regret this tomorrow?”

He went still. His heart felt like it stopped before thundering back to life. “That... that’s not—I mean...” he stammered, hands trembling slightly as he brought them to your face. His thumbs gently stroked your cheekbones. “Are you serious right now?”

His voice was rough, thick with emotion he rarely let show. His eyes searched yours intently, looking for any trace of hesitation. “Because if this is real... if you actually want...” He swallowed again. “Shit, Y/n. You have no idea what you do to me.”

You didn’t answer with words. You leaned in and kissed him.

The moment your lips met, he let out a shaky gasp. His hands moved to your hair, fingers tangling as he kissed you back with a desperate intensity. It was messy, passionate, tongue and teeth, hunger barely held back.

A small moan escaped him, muffled against your lips. His body pressed flush to yours, fitting like a puzzle piece that had always been missing. One of his hands slid to the small of your back, fingers digging into your shirt as he pulled you closer.

When you broke apart for air, he was panting, eyes dark with desire. He rested his forehead against yours.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that. How many times I’ve imagined it,” he said.

You smirked, resting your finger against his lips. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret tomorrow.”

He nipped at your finger lightly, his teeth grazing the skin. His eyes locked with yours, full of heat and promise.

“No regrets,” he murmured. “Not tonight. Not with you.”

Then he kissed you again, hard. His hands slid to your hips, gripping tightly as he pulled you onto his lap. The position pressed your bodies together, and he groaned into your mouth.

“I want you,” he breathed, voice ragged. “I want you so fucking much, Y/n. Want to feel you, taste you, make you mine.” His hands slipped under your shirt, fingers brushing over your bare back. His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

You mirrored his touch, sliding your hand down his chest, feeling the toned muscle beneath. As you moved closer, you felt his erection press against you.

Heeseung sucked in a breath. His muscles tensed under your fingers. When you rolled your hips against his, his reaction was immediate, hips bucking, breath catching. “Y/n…” he groaned. “That feels so good. You’re killing me.” His hands held your hips tighter, guiding your movements, slow and deliberate. You could feel every hard inch of him, even through the layers.

“I bet you’d look so pretty riding me,” he panted into your neck, kissing along your throat. “Bet you’d take me so well. I want to feel you squeeze around me. Fall apart on my dick.” One hand came up to cup your breast, fingers kneading the soft flesh through your bra.

You let out a shaky breath, grinding harder.

He let out a low growl of appreciation, helping you move against him. “That’s it. Take what you need. Fuck, the way you move...” His thumb brushed over your nipple through the fabric, sending heat straight to your core. He pinched and rolled it, his other hand still firm on your hip. “I want to watch you fall apart,” he murmured. “Want to hear you moan my name.”

Your head fell onto his shoulder as you whimpered his name, picking up the pace.

Heeseung gasped, thrusting up to meet you. “Yes, just like that. Fuck, you feel so good. So perfect. Such a good girl for me.” His hand slid up your back and into your hair, tugging gently. The other dipped into your pants, under your underwear, gripping your ass firmly. “If you keep doing that,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear, “I’m gonna come in my pants.”

You smirked. “That’s honestly a turn on.”

He shuddered, overwhelmed. He looked at you, eyes dark and blown wide. “It is? You like knowing how much I want you?” He ground against you harder, letting you feel every inch of him. “Because I’m so fucking close. You’re gonna make me explode in these jeans.” His thumb pressed against your clit, slow circles over your underwear. “Think you can make me come like this? Grinding until I lose it? Bet you’d love feeling me twitch against your pretty pussy.”

You bit your lip, meeting his rhythm. “I know you’ll cum for me. You always do what I tell you, don’t you? Just like the good little boy you are.”

Heeseung let out a strangled moan, body seizing. “Oh fuck...Y/n... I’m cumming!” He buried his face in your neck, biting down on your shoulder to muffle the cry. His cock pulsed and twitched, hot release soaking his pants as he clung to you. Your name fell from his lips in broken whimpers.

You came with him, body shuddering, head falling to his shoulder. “Ngh... fuck... so tired...” you mumbled.

Heeseung smiled, exhausted but content. He held you close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. He shifted, laying back on the bed and pulling you with him. After dressing you in spare clothes, he cleaned himself up and returned to curl beside you.

He watched you sleep, your face peaceful, before sleep took him too. Still half-drunk, halfaware.

The screeching of your alarm feels like a knife in your skull. You reach for your phone, slapping it down with a groan, but the damage is done. Your head’s pounding, and it feels like the world’s spinning under you.

Beside you, Heeseung groans, the sound muffled by the pillow he’s half-smothered in. “Ugh. Shut it up,” he mutters, flinging his arm over his face like it’ll save him.

You don’t even have the energy to respond. Your hand moves instinctively to your forehead, trying to ease the ache that feels like it’s about to split your brain in two.

Heeseung shifts, throwing his arm away from his eyes. He squints at you through the haze, his face scrunched up in discomfort. “Oh my god,” he groans dramatically, his voice barely more than a croak. “I think I might actually die today.”

You don’t even respond at first. Your mind is too busy reeling, trying to piece together what the hell happened last night. It’s like watching a movie in slow motion, the details fading in and out.

And then, bam. It all comes rushing back.

You dry-humped your best friend.

You don't even know where to begin. Last night was a blur of alcohol and hormones and bad decisions. Your hands on his chest. His breath hitching. Your bodies moving together in the dim light. His voice in your ear. Your best friend, your dumb, sweet, annoying, beautiful best friend had his hands all over you.

And you… let him.

No.

You wanted him to.

You groan again, burying a pillow over your face.

“What’s wrong with you?” Heeseung mutters, still not fully opening his eyes.

“What’s wrong with me?” You yank the pillow away and look at him. “What the hell was last night, Heeseung?”

That gets his attention. He blinks at you like a deer in headlights. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Oh shit.”

He bolts upright, sheets falling away. “Wait- we didn’t, right? We didn’t actually-?” He gestures wildly.

“No!” you say too fast. “God, no. But we… we dry humped each other for, like, an hour, on the floor.”

Heeseung flops back, groaning into the pillow now. “Kill me. Just end it. Right here. I’ll leave you my gaming chair in my will.”

You toss a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face.

“You started it!” you snap.

“You climbed on top of me!”

“You pulled me down!”

“You were grinding!”

“You moaned!”

Heeseung yelps, shoving the pillow into his face. “Shut up!”

The pillow shifts just enough for him to peek at you. His eyes are wide, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I didn’t even-” he blurts. A beat. Then quieter: “Well, maybe.”

He lets the pillow fall into his lap, deflating like a kicked balloon. “God. That was so stupid. So, so stupid. What do we even do now?”

You wince at the memory of what you said last night. Every detail’s still painfully vivid. “Well... we said no regrets, right?” Your voice comes out careful, uncertain. “We agreed.”

Heeseung goes quiet for a moment, eyes scanning the floor. Then he gives a small nod, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Right. No regrets.”

He rubs a hand through his hair, only making the mess worse. “So... we’re good? Still friends and everything?”

“Only if you swear, we never mention the phrase ‘dry-humped’ in front of each other again.”

“Deal.” His voice wavers, just enough to give him away. “Because honestly, if we’re not anymore, I might actually combust right here.”

You snort, reaching for the nearest pillow and tossing it at him. “You’re so dramatic. I’m not gonna throw away twenty years of friendship just because we almost-”

Your voice catches. You clear your throat and stand up instead. You only realize then, you’re wearing his hoodie. Not yours. Definitely not yours. It hangs oversized on your frame, soft and warm. You glance at yourself in the mirror, cheeks flushing.

Heeseung catches on too, eyes widening. “Oh, uh- yeah. Sorry about the clothes. You would have been sleeping in your outside clothes and I blurred out and just- gave you that. I didn’t look. I swear.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure.”

He makes a strangled noise and looks away. “Okay, well, want breakfast or something? I heard food helps with hangovers.”

You take one last glance at yourself in the mirror before nodding. “Thanks, by the way. I didn’t bring pajamas, so… appreciate it.” You point toward the bathroom. “Can I shower here?”

Heeseung nods quickly, still red in the face. “Yeah. Of course. Towels are in the cabinet under the sink. Shampoo and stuff’s in there too.”

You start walking past him, and he inhales, just a little too deeply. You catch it. His laundry soap mixed with your perfume lingers between you.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, stopping you just before you disappear into the bathroom. His voice softens. “About last night… I’m glad it didn’t mess anything up. You’re sickeningly important to me or whatever, Y/n.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, ignoring how your stomach flips at how disgustingly earnest he says your name.

“Me too,” you reply. “It’d be a waste to throw twenty years down the drain over one really… weird night.”

Heeseung exhales, like he’s been holding that breath all morning. “Exactly. Besides,” he adds, a small smile forming, “who else would put up with me and feed me when I’m too hungover to move?”

You roll your eyes, though the corner of your mouth lifts. “You’re such a loser.”

“Yeah, well, you love it,” he retorts with a laugh, clearly relieved. “Now go take your shower before the water goes cold, princess.”

You snicker as you close the door behind you. “Stop calling me that! You’re so fucking weird when you’re nice.”

Heeseung’s laughter rings out from the other side of the door. “I can’t believe you’re still talking back while you’re in the bathroom. What kind of weirdo are you?”

You hear him flop onto the bed again as the shower water turns on, his voice muffled by the bathroom door. “I can’t believe I dry-humped my best friend. Classic Heeseung,” he mutters to himself, clearly still cringing.

After about twenty minutes, you both finished getting ready, falling into silence, moving like you had been doing this forever. You didn’t talk much, just small comments and glances over breakfast before going to the university together.

By the time you reached campus, there was barely any time left before classes started.

Without much choice, the two of you split ways. Different departments, different buildings. Still, that parting tugged at something. Maybe it was how reluctant Heeseung looked, or the way his eyes lingered a second too long.

Heeseung, for his part, couldn’t focus all day.

His professors might as well have been speaking gibberish. He found himself zoning out midlecture, thumb absentmindedly grazing the edge of his notebook as images of last night kept flashing in his mind. The way your voice softened when you were sleepy. The heat of your skin when you leaned too close.

He was still stuck in that daze by lunchtime, hovering near the cafeteria entrance with his tray in hand, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. You were seated by the window, halfheartedly poking your food with your expression unreadable. He hesitated.

Should he join you? Would that be weird?

After a moment of internal chaos, he sucked it up and walked over, plopping down across from you like it was no big deal.

"Hey," he said, voice casual but eyes hesitant. "Didn’t know if you wanted company. Didn’t wanna be annoying."

You didn’t even look up right away, just poked at your food with a spoon. Then you smirked. “I was literally looking for you earlier. Then I gave up 'cause I got lazy." He blinked in surprise. That made his shoulders relax just a little.

"You know," you added, finally meeting his eyes, "what’s with you lately? You’re acting weird. You’re never this... nice. It’s freaking me out."

Heeseung sat up straighter, hand pausing mid-bite. "I’m not nice? Wow, okay. Maybe I’m just trying something new. Ever thought of that?"

"There he is," you said with a laugh, reaching across the table to pat his shoulder a little too hard. "There’s the asshole I grew up with. Thought I lost you for a second."

Heeseung winced and rubbed his shoulder. "Ow. You trying to dislocate my arm? Damn. You're lucky I even tolerate you. Especially with that garbage personality of yours."

But you caught it, that flicker in his eyes when you touched him, even briefly. The twitch of his lips he tried to suppress when you teased him back.

Things might’ve continued that way, comfortable, familiar. If only Jay hadn’t suddenly flopped into the seat next to Heeseung.

"Dude. Be real with me. Are you dating her or what?"

Your fork froze mid-air. Heeseung choked on his water.

"What?! No- what are you-" He looked between you and Jay, a bit panicked. "We’re just friends! Why would you even-?"

Jay shrugged. "I mean, the way you two bicker like an old married couple? Come on. And the rumors are already everywhere."

You raised a brow, glancing at Heeseung. "Who in their right mind would think I’d date him?"

"Excuse you," Heeseung shot back, glaring. "I’d rather shove my head in a blender than date some clingy, passive-aggressive- ow, god!" He hissed as you kicked him under the table.

Jay just watched with a grin. "You two are exhausting."

Then his grin widened as he leaned closer to Heeseung. "But since you’re not dating her, does that mean Jung Yeri’s got a shot with you?"

You blinked. That name made your stomach do something unfamiliar and ugly.

Heeseung visibly tensed. "What? Why are you even-?"

"Dude," Jay laughed. "She’s been all over you. Pretty sure half the class already thinks you two are a thing."

Right on cue, a girl that looked suspiciously like Jung Yeri sauntered by. She tossed Heeseung a slow, deliberate wink before settling at a table nearby.

Jay elbowed him again. "Go talk to her! You’re blowing it!"

But Heeseung looked like he’d just been cornered by a wild animal.

You tried not to laugh. Honestly, you really tried. But your hand twitched and your lips curled as you bit down on the inside of your cheek. It was a struggle not to smirk as you watched him flail.

"I- no," Heeseung said abruptly, voice sharper than he meant. "I’m not into her."

Jay blinked. "Seriously? She’s not your type?"

Heeseung let out a strangled sound, running his hand through his hair. "She’s fine, I guess, but I’m not... I do not like. I’m already-"

His eyes flicked toward you, just briefly.

"...interested in someone else."

Your hand paused on your tray. You glanced up at him, lips parting slightly, but you said nothing.

Jay, of course, was relentless. "What? Since when?! Who?"

Heeseung mumbled something, but it was too low for anyone to catch.

Jay leaned closer. "Huh?"

Heeseung snapped, "It’s none of your business!"

You finally cracked. The laugh escaped before you could catch it, loud and unfiltered. You covered your mouth, turning your head, shoulders shaking.

Heeseung glared. "What’s so funny?!"

Jay smirked like the puzzle pieces finally clicked. "Wait a second... it’s her, isn’t it? You’ve got it bad for Y/n."

Heeseung nearly choked on his drink again. "What?! No!" he barked. "I don’t like her like that!" You only laughed harder, tears starting to prick your eyes from holding it in.

Jay turned to you. "Is that true? You two really aren’t into each other?"

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve, calming down enough to deadpan, "The only day I’d be into him is if the world ended and we were the last people alive."

Heeseung’s smirk wobbled for a second. "Right back at you. I’d rather eat glass than date you."

Jay shook his head and stood. "Y’all are full of it. Anyway, I’ve got class. Try not to murder each otherwhile I’m gone."

Once he left, the tension stayed behind. Quieter, but heavier somehow.

You leaned in. “Really? You like someone who’s not Yeri?”

Heeseung stiffened, his eyes darting to yours. He opened his mouth, closed it, then scowled and looked away.

“Why do you care?” he muttered. “It’s not like it matters.”

You grinned. “Are you sure Yeri isn’t this mystery lady you secretly like?”

“Oh God, no way!” he blurted, then winced. “I mean, she’s… not my type. At all.”

He picked at his rice like it offended him. “I don’t even know why you’re asking. It’s not like I’m going to tell you who it is.”

You shrugged, standing to set your tray aside. “Do whatever you want. Although…” you smirked as you leaned your chin on your palm, “I do hope your virgin ass finally gets laid.” Heeseung’s head snapped up. “EXCUSE ME?!” he nearly yelled.

Everyone turned. He ducked down, voice hissing now. “I am not a virgin! And even if I was, that’s none of your business!” He crossed his arms. “Besides, you’re one to talk. When’s the last time you even went on a date?”

Your smile fell. “Hey! For your information, I’m actually set to go on a group date with my friends this Friday.”

His expression darkened instantly. “A group date?” he reiterated. “Since when are you into that kind of thing? I thought you hated crowds.” He leaned closer, tone sharp. “And who exactly are you going with? Do I know them? Are they even decent people?”

You crossed your arms. “Why do you care? And besides, it’s about time my miserable ass gets a boyfriend.”

Heeseung’s hands tightened around the edge of the table. He forced a laugh, bitter, hollow. “Yeah. Good luck with that. Let me know how that works out for you.”

Then, he stood up, abruptly, chair scraping loudly behind him. His tray clattered as he grabbed it. “I have to go. Class starts soon.”

You frowned. “Hey-”

But he was already walking away.

You blinked, confused. “You don’t even have afternoon classes today…” You shook your head, carrying your tray to the bin. You frowned as you watched him storm off, tray in hand and tension radiating from every step.

The doors clattered shut behind him.

You stood there for a few seconds, tray still in your hands, like your brain hadn’t caught up to your body yet. Heeseung never walked away from an argument. He lived for comebacks, lived for that smug look he always wore when he got the last word.

So why now?

You blinked, startled by the tight knot forming in your chest. Was it something you said? You turned slowly toward the trash bins, tossing your leftovers away, but your mind wasn’t really on autopilot like it usually was. You weren’t thinking about your next class. Not even about what Jay said or how half the cafeteria had stared at you when Heeseung yelled about not being a virgin.

No, all your thoughts were stuck back at the table. Replaying the way his eyes darkened when you brought up the group date. The way his jaw tensed. That laugh that wasn’t a real laugh, more like something brittle, something breaking.

And then he’d left. Just… walked out.

You stood by the bins, fingers loosely gripping the edge, your tray empty but your head full of noise. The kind of silence that rings in your ears when everything around you moves on and you’re just… stuck.

You leaned against the counter, letting out a slow breath as your thoughts started spiraling.

Why was he upset?

Sure, you teased him. You always did. That wasn’t new. Neither was him teasing back.

But this time…this time he’d gotten weirdly defensive. About Yeri. About you going on a date. About everything, really.

He always called you annoying, or brat, or headache, but he’d never looked angry. Not like that.

Not like someone who was… hurt.

You stared at the floor.

And then it hit you, an idea awfully insane, and kind of stupid.

He was acting jealous.

The word lodged itself in your brain like a splinter.

No. No way. That didn’t make sense. This was Heeseung. He’d rather die than admit he liked anyone. Heeseung, who called you a cockroach just last week when you stole his fries.

Heeseung, who once said he’d sooner become a monk than date you.

Still, you couldn’t shake it.

That look in his eyes when you joked about finally getting a boyfriend.

That silence.

The way he’d refused to look at you when he said, “Yeah. Good luck with that.”

You slowly made your way out of the cafeteria, feet dragging more than usual. Your fingers were twitchy, like they wanted to text him, but you couldn’t even think of what you’d say.

And still, that question kept circling back in your head.

Annoying. Shitty. Question.

He’s not… jealous… is he?

Heeseung didn’t even remember how he got back to his dorm. One second he was standing in the cafeteria, hearing you joke about getting a boyfriend, and the next he was outside, walking blindly through campus with his fists jammed deep in his pockets.

The cold didn't help. If anything, it made his thoughts sharper, more jagged.

It's about time my miserable ass gets a boyfriend. He could still hear it. Like a punchline he wasn’t in on.

He kicked a stray rock across the sidewalk, watching it bounce into the bushes.

“Stupid,” he muttered, jaw clenched. “So fucking stupid.”

He didn’t know what pissed him off more, the thought of you with some guy from that group date or the fact that he had no right to be this upset in the first place. You weren’t his. You never had been.

But that didn’t stop his chest from tightening every time he imagined you laughing with someone else. Sitting beside him. Holding his hand.

Heeseung cursed under his breath as he shoved his dorm room door open and slammed it shut behind him. He let himself fall face-first onto his bed, eyes burning holes into the ceiling.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Not after everything that happened.

Not after that night.

Your lips. The way you melted into him. The way your hands gripped his hoodie like you didn’t want to let go.

He let out a groan and buried his face into his pillow.  

What the hell were you even thinking?

He wanted to text you. Apologize maybe. Pretend it didn’t matter. But every time he picked up his phone, his thumbs froze, and the words disappeared.

So instead, he just laid there. Let the ache sit with him like it had every night since.

You walked into class like you were wearing a mask.

Blouse tucked in. Skirt straightened. Smile tight.

Everything looked fine from the outside. But inside? Your brain had been on a loop for hours, trying to make sense of what the hell had just happened with Heeseung.

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. Friends fight. You probably just hit a nerve. Maybe he was stressed. Maybe you’d said something wrong.

Maybe-

“Earth to Y/n.”

You blinked, startled, as Vicky waved her hand in front of your face.

“You've been staring at your notebook like it's gonna write itself,” she said with a giggle. “Everything okay?”

You forced a smile. “Uhm… yeah. Just thinking about... things.”

Vicky raised an eyebrow. “Things,” she repeated. “Uh-huh. Right. Like how you’ve been zoning out since you sat down. Does this have anything to do with that guy you’re always with?”

Your smile froze. “What- Heeseung? No, why would-”

She gasped softly. “Oh my god, it is about him.”

Before you could argue, she clapped her hands excitedly. “Perfect timing! Don’t forget, our group blind date’s this Friday. You have to invite him. I bet he'd totally get along with my friends. Or maybe you two can date each other and pretend it's a blind date.”

You stiffened. “Woah, slow down. Heeseung and I? That’s… we’re like family. Literally. I’ve known him since I was in diapers.”

Vicky pouted, clearly unimpressed. “That’s a shame. You guys would be stupid cute together.” You rolled your eyes, but the weird twist in your gut didn’t go away.

“And hey,” she added teasingly, voice low, “if you’re really not interested… is he fair game?” You whipped your head toward her so fast your hair slapped your shoulder.

Vicky laughed nervously, holding her hands up. “Kidding! Kidding. I know better than to go after someone you’re protective of.”

You turned back to your notes, pretending to write something. But the words blurred together.

Why did that bother you so much?

Heeseung could date whoever he wanted. You didn’t care. You shouldn’t care. And yet the thought of him sitting next to some girl on Friday made you want to scream.

It didn’t make sense.

Your fingers gripped your pen tighter.

The rest of the class passed in a haze. Vicky tossing in ideas for venues and flirty outfit suggestions while you nodded absently, stuck inside your own head.

By the time you got home, the sun was already setting, casting warm shadows on your walls.

You dropped your bag on the couch and kicked off your shoes, but something soft hit your thigh as you moved.

You reached in and pulled out the fabric.

Heeseung’s hoodie.

Of course.

You exhaled slowly, running your fingers across the soft sleeves. It still smelled like him. Laundry detergent and something warm underneath.

You didn’t want to see him. Not yet. Not when your heart still felt like it was in a blender and you didn’t know why.

But now you had an excuse to. And that irritated you more than it should.

“Whatever,” you muttered, tossing it in the laundry and pretending like that settled something.

It didn’t.

The next few days passed like molasses. Slow. Heavy. Tense.

Neither of you texted.

Neither of you reached out.

You kept telling yourself that was fine. That this wasn’t weird. That everything was totally normal.

But it wasn’t.

Every time your phone buzzed; your heart jumped. Every time it wasn’t him, it sank.

Heeseung was the same. Pretending he was busy. Pretending he wasn’t checking his phone every ten minutes. Pretending he didn’t care that the hoodie you wore while falling asleep in his arms was gone.

Denial was easier.

Until Friday rolled around. The day of the group date.

And neither of you could deny anything anymore.

The day of the group blind date crawled by, but you felt the weight of it like a countdown.

You spent the morning aimlessly cleaning, second-guessing your outfit, and chewing on your lip as you stared at your phone. Still no text. Not that you expected one. Not really.

Meanwhile, somewhere across campus, Heeseung was pretending to be busy. Doing laps around his dorm, rearranging laundry that was already folded, and slamming his fridge shut multiple times for no reason. Every task he did had one purpose: stalling.

Eventually, he couldn’t stop himself.

You heard the doorbell just as you were zipping up your boots. When you opened it, your breath hitched.

There he was, standing stiffly outside your apartment, a black tote bag dangling from one hand. He looked like he didn’t want to be there, and also like he’d explode if he didn’t show up.

“Hey,” he muttered, avoiding your eyes. “You left your clothes. From that night.”

You blinked, confused for a second, then glanced down at the bag. Your cheeks warmed. “Oh. Right.” You stepped back, your voice smaller than intended. “Thanks... wait here a sec.”

You ducked inside, grabbing his pajamas off your bed and stuffing them into the bag. When you returned, he was still standing there, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

“Thanks for lending me this too,” you mumbled, holding out the bag again.

Heeseung nodded, his jaw tight. He took it wordlessly. His fingers brushed yours. Then, after a beat too long, he said, “You look…”

He didn’t finish right away. His gaze dropped again. To the dress. The earrings. Your exposed collarbone.

“You look nice.” The words left his mouth like he hated them. “For your date, I mean.” He cleared his throat, jaw working. “Have fun or whatever.” You froze.

“Oh. Uh. Thanks.”

He shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. Like there was something else he wanted to say but didn’t know how.

“I should go,” he said, turning away. “Don’t want to make you late.”

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

He nodded and walked off, leaving you staring at the closed door, mentally cursing yourself for not saying more.

You stared at the shut door for a long moment, biting the inside of your cheek. It felt like something important had been said. And also, like nothing had.

By the time your Uber pulled up, your nerves had twisted into a tight coil behind your ribs. You tried to shake it off as you headed to the restaurant. But that all flew out the window the second you walked through the doors.

Because standing near the entrance, tray in hand, was Heeseung.

Your jaw dropped. “You? Wait. You work here?”

His eyes went wide as they landed on you, like you’d just punched him in the gut. “Y/n-? Yeah. Part-time.”

“You never told me-”

“I did,” he muttered, flushing and avoiding your gaze. “Maybe you just didn’t listen.”

You blinked, thrown off. “Since when?”

“Since-… whatever.” His voice was clipped, like he was trying too hard to act unaffected. “Needed the money. Free food. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Before you could respond, someone from the back called out: “Lee! Table 7!”

He exhaled through his nose, already turning away. “Gotta go. Enjoy your date.”

And just like that, he was gone again. Vanishing between tables, his apron swaying as he moved. You barely had time to process it when Vicky waved you over. She was already seated with another girl you knew, makeup perfect, and surrounded by three guys. One of whom slid a drink toward you as you sat down.

The night crawled forward.

Your date was… fine.

Well, there wasn’t anything wrong with him. He was cute. Tall. Had that clean-cut kind of look, the kind you’re supposed to want. The kind that makes your friends nudge you under the table and whisper “Okay, not bad.” And he was nice, in a way that felt... practiced? Like he knew exactly what to say and when to say it. Smiled on cue. Laughed when he was supposed to. Asked questions, but only the easy ones, your major, your favorite movie, if you liked dogs or cats. Surface-level stuff. Like we were speedrunning a personality quiz.

You nodded. Smiled. Even laughed a few times. But it didn’t feel like anything.

The whole time, your brain kept running in circles. You kept comparing everything he did to Heeseung, without meaning to. Without even realizing I was doing it at first.

Like when he leaned in and grinned that too-perfect smile? All you could think about was how Heeseung’s smile was kind of lopsided and usually only came out when he was genuinely amused. The real kind. The one where his nose scrunches a little and he tries to hide it behind his hand like it’s embarrassing.

Or when your date started talking about his internship and humblebragging like it was his whole personality. Meanwhile, Heeseung would rather choke than talk about himself like that. He’s so annoying about hiding how hard he works, like it’s something to be ashamed of. But at least when he says something, you know it means something.

And then there was this moment. God, it was so dumb, when your date reached across the table and tried to brush something off your sleeve, real casual. Like in the dramas. Except it didn’t feel sweet. It felt…wrong.

Because your first instinct wasn’t butterflies.

It was Heeseung would’ve made fun of me first.

He would’ve been like, “You wore that? You look like you lost a bet.” And then when you’d pout and hit his arm, he’d sneakily fix whatever it was while you were distracted. That was just how we were.

But this guy? He kept making these flirty comments toward Vicky like you weren’t sitting right there. At one point, he asked her what kind of guys she liked, while you were talking midsentence. Like, what are you? A chair?

And you just sat there, drinking your watered-down cocktail, smiling through your teeth while your insides twisted into knots.

Because the real reason you weren’t having fun?

Wasn’t the bad flirting.

Wasn’t the recycled jokes.

Wasn’t the fact that you had more chemistry with the damn napkin holder.

It was because he wasn’t Heeseung.

He didn’t get under your skin the same way. He didn’t make your heartbeat stumble just by looking in your direction. He didn’t have that stupid habit of calling you by a nickname only he could get away with. He didn’t make you want to argue just so you could hear him talk back.

He didn’t make you feel like yourself.

And maybe that was the scariest part. Sitting across from someone perfectly decent, someone that everyone else would probably think is a catch, and realizing that the only person you wanted to talk to about it... was the same person you were trying so hard not to think about.

And it sucked. Because you didn’t know what that meant.

Not really.

You just knew you were halfway through a third drink, laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, smiling at a guy who wasn’t him. And the whole time, your eyes kept drifting to where Heeseung was working across the room.

Not looking at you once.

And that’s when it hit you.

Maybe he was trying not to look too.

By the time dessert came around, you were on your fifth glass of whatever fruity cocktail they'd ordered for you. The alcohol was warm in your stomach, and your thoughts were a slow spin cycle. You laughed at your date’s joke, but it didn’t reach your eyes. It didn’t reach your heart.

Because part of you was still stuck at your front door, with Heeseung not saying what you both knew he wasn’t ready to admit.

When the night finally wound down, the group staggered toward the exit. You tried to play it cool, but your legs were shaky and your head swam.

You didn’t even notice you were stumbling until a hand grabbed your arm.

“Hey, watch it.” Heeseung’s voice, low and sharp with concern, cut through the noise like a tether. “You’re seriously drunk.”

You looked up at him, lips pouting as your balance wobbled again. “The date sucked,” you mumbled. “He was annoying.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “You were laughing. You looked fine.”

“I wasn’t.”

He cursed under his breath and guided you to a bench near the side of the restaurant. You slumped down, grateful for something solid. He knelt in front of you, one hand on your knee to steady himself. “What happened?” he asked, quieter now. “Did he do something?”

You shook your head lazily. “No, just...”  

There was a long pause, way too long like your brain and your heart were fighting against each other.

“He wasn’t you.” Ah. Now we know who won.

The words fell out before you could stop them, and the way his expression shifted for just a fraction of a second told you he didn’t expect that. But Heeseung quickly masked it, shrugging nonchalantly, like it didn’t matter.

“Right,” he muttered, almost too quickly. “Well, you’re really drunk. Don’t go saying weird stuff.” He stood up slightly, glancing at the rest of the group in the distance, then back at you.

You didn’t want to let it slide. “You’re acting different,” you mumbled, your eyes narrowing as you stared up at him, trying to focus. “You’re being... too considerate. Like I’m someone special, and I don’t like it.”

Heeseung’s eyes flickered to yours, an unreadable expression crossing his face for a moment. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay,” he said, voice quieter, a little more strained than usual. “You’re barely keeping yourself upright. What do you want me to do, huh?”

You didn’t back down. “I want you to stop being nice,” you said, your voice slurred but clear enough. “It’s confusing. You’re supposed to be a jerk.”

There was a long, tense pause, and you almost didn’t notice it, but the way his face softened for just a second made your heart skip. He stood there, his posture stiff, but his eyes were searching yours, something vulnerable flickering behind his usual mask.

“Why?” His voice was barely above a whisper, and you could tell it caught him off guard. “Why does it bother you?”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or just the raw honesty of the moment, but you decided to let the words spill before you could stop them.

“Because if you keep being nice to me like this... I might-” you murmured, the weight of the confession crashing over you as the words slipped out. “I might actually start liking you.”

The silence that followed felt almost suffocating. Heeseung froze, his expression unreadable. You felt your body sag with the realization of what you’d just said, and the alcohol finally hit you like a wave. Your vision blurred as your head dropped back against the bench, and before you could even process the weight of your own words, your body gave out.

You didn’t even hear Heeseung call your name. You just felt his hands steadying you, but everything went black.

Everything that followed was a haze.

You didn’t remember falling asleep. Didn’t remember being moved. But when your eyes blinked open, the light stung a little, and you were surrounded by something familiar, but not yours.

It took a second to realize you were in Heeseung’s bed.

You were curled up on top of his thin comforter, a lighter blanket tossed over your shoulders like an afterthought. His scent lingered faintly on the pillow beneath you. It smelled like clean laundry, hints of shampoo, and something distinctly him. The room was dim, lit only by the soft morning light peeking through slatted blinds.

Across the room, you spotted him, Heeseung, sitting at his desk, back to you, headphones on as he typed slowly on his laptop. His hair was still a mess, sticking out in places. He was wearing the same hoodie from the night before.

You shifted slightly, and that was all it took.

He immediately swiveled around in his chair. Headphones off, brows pulled together. “Hey,” he said, voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Hey, easy. Don’t sit up too fast.”

He was already kneeling by the side of the bed, one hand resting gently on your shoulder. His eyes searched your face. “How do you feel? Water and aspirin…” he reached toward his desk, grabbing a bottle and a little foil pack, “…ready to go.”

You took them, muttering a tired thank you as you sat up slowly. Your head was pounding. Everything felt weirdly fragile, like the air was too loud.

“What a mess.. why am I remembering…” you rubbed your temples, “Vicky. Telling me she’d scare off my date.”

Heeseung gave you a tight-lipped smile, carefully neutral. “She did.” You let out a weak laugh. “I didn’t do or say anything... regrettable, right?” His expression flickered. Just for a second. A crack.

“Regrettable?” he repeated quickly. “Nah, nothing like that. You were just… rambling. Typical drunk stuff.” He cleared his throat, eyes darting away. “I brought you back here ‘cause you couldn’t go home like that. And I figured, y’know… better I make sure you’re okay than leave you to die in a bush or something.”

You snorted. “Very noble of you.”

He tried to laugh, but it came out awkward, stiff. “Seriously though, I swear, nothing weird happened. You knocked out like, instantly. I made sure you didn’t choke in your sleep or whatever. That’s it.”

You nodded slowly, watching him as you sipped the water. “Nothing else?”

There was a pause. Barely a beat. He shook his head. “Nope. Nothing.” You said nothing. Just nodded again.

Because you did remember. The moment before it all faded. The way your heart pounded. The words that escaped you.

You remembered what you said to him. Clear as day.

Heeseung looked visibly relieved that you didn’t push it further. He stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. “You should probably go home though. Rest somewhere more… homey. Real food, maybe not just painkillers.”

You hesitated. Then quietly, “Can I stay? Just for a little while.” His eyes widened.

“I know I’m probably being annoying, but I just…can’t really go home like this yet.” You picked at the blanket, looking down. “Also, the date was shit...I wanna distract myself from thinking of it.” Heeseung blinked. The expression on his face shifted from surprise to something gentler.

“Yeah,” he said after a second, voice low. “Of course you can stay.”

He sat down next to you slowly, like he wasn’t sure he should. You could feel the warmth of him, even without touching.

“So,” he asked, carefully, “what happened? Was he a jerk or something?”

There was something off in his tone. A casual mask trying to cover the edge of something rawer.

You shrugged. “He was full of himself. Talked about himself the whole time. Kept flirting with Vicky right in front of me.” You glanced at him. “It was pathetic, honestly.”

Heeseung’s entire expression darkened. Jaw clenched. “Are you serious?” he muttered. “He did that in front of you?” You nodded.

“Piece of shit,” he muttered, then immediately seemed to catch himself. He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. That’s just-God, what a dumbass.”

You could feel something bubbling beneath his words. He was angry. More than just offended on your behalf. There was something personal in the way he said it.

“I didn’t even like him that much anyway,” you said under your breath.

“Oh?” he said quickly. “Then why go on the date?”

You gave him a sidelong glance. “I guess I was trying to prove something to myself. That I could move on. That I didn’t-” You bit your lip. “Never mind.” He watched you closely.

“Didn’t what?”

You shook your head, brushing it off. “Forget it.”

Heeseung opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it. He leaned back against the wall beside the bed. “If it makes you feel better,” he said, “you deserve someone way better than that loser. Someone who… actually listens. Knows you.”

You smiled faintly. “Sounds like a fantasy.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

You turned to him. “You speak from experience?”

He smiled crookedly. “Something like that.”

There was a quiet stretch. Neither of you spoke.

Then, on impulse, you asked, “Wanna grab something to eat? My treat.”

He looked at you like you just offered to buy him a yacht. “Really?”

“Yeah. You took care of me, so let me return the favor.”

He blinked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Sure. That sounds good.”

“I mean, you’ll probably complain about the food, but-”

“Oh, absolutely. You have terrible taste.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing the blanket off as you stood. “Can I shower?”

Heeseung blinked. “Shower?”

“Yeah. You’ve got clean towels, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Cabinet under the sink.” He was already standing up, rummaging through a drawer.

“Here. Take this.” He held out a folded t-shirt and a pair of his joggers. “These should fit, I think.” You took them, holding back a grin. “Thanks, mom.”

He flushed, then made a face. “Just don’t use all my conditioner. That shit’s expensive.”

You ducked into the bathroom, the sound of running water quickly masking the sound of your laugh.

Left alone, Heeseung flopped onto his bed, covering his face with his arm. “What the fuck,” he muttered.

Everything about you lately was driving him insane.

Ten minutes later, you emerged, towel-drying your hair and wearing his clothes. The t-shirt was soft, worn-in, and smelled like him. The joggers sat comfortably low on your hips.

“Feel better?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

You nodded. “Surprisingly, yeah.”

He grabbed his keys. “Let’s go, then.”

You walked side by side. Close. Too close, maybe. His hand brushed against yours a few times, just barely.

“Watch it,” you muttered after the third time.

“Not my fault,” he said, not looking at you. “You keep drifting.”

You narrowed your eyes at the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

When you reached the restaurant, he pulled open the door. “Go,” he said, flicking his chin. “Before you embarrass yourself trying to yank this open.”

“Wow,” you scoffed. “Chivalry’s dead.”

Inside the little restaurant, it was quiet. Just the low hum of a fan overhead and the occasional clink of cutlery from the kitchen. You slid into a booth by the window, the vinyl seat cool against your skin. Heeseung sat across from you, stretching his legs under the table with a soft groan.

He picked up the laminated menu and scanned it half-heartedly. “This place is always weirdly cold.”

You shrugged, fingers idly tracing the edge of your water glass. “Better than it being stuffy. I can’t think when it’s hot.”

“You can’t think when you’re cold either,” he pointed out, flipping the menu upside down like the food choices might change.

You smirked. “I can’t think around you, period.” He looked up. Blinked.

You hadn’t meant to say that.

“I mean-when you’re being annoying,” you added quickly, eyes dropping to the menu like it had suddenly become the most important thing in the world. “You’re distracting.”

“Uh-huh,” he said slowly, voice teasing. “Nice save.”

You made a face at him. He just chuckled and leaned back, watching you with that unreadable expression again. Half amused, half something else.

A waitress came by, took your orders, then disappeared just as quickly.

For a while, neither of you said much. You busied yourself with your straw wrapper, folding it into tight little knots. He watched your hands. Then the window. Then you again.

Finally, he asked, “So. Last night.”

You didn’t look up. “What about it?”

He shrugged. “I guess I just… didn’t expect it to bother me as much as it did.” That made you glance at him.

“I thought you weren’t paying attention?” you said carefully.

He let out a short breath. “Yeah. That was… not my finest moment.”

You leaned forward slightly. “Why though?”

Heeseung opened his mouth, then shut it again. Ran a hand through his hair.

“It was just… weird. Seeing you with someone else. Even if it was just a date.”

You tilted your head. “Weird how?”

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers drummed softly against the table.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I guess I thought I’d be fine. Like, of course you’re gonna date. That’s normal. But then I saw you standing there with him, and I just-” He exhaled sharply. “It was weird as hell.”

Your throat felt tight. “Heeseung…”

He shook his head, like he regretted saying anything at all. “I’m not trying to make this about me. I just… I care. Okay? Maybe more than I should.” That landed heavier than you expected.

You looked down again. At your straw wrapper. At the water beading on your glass.

“I didn’t like being there,” you admitted, voice low. “The whole thing felt off from the start. Like I was pretending.”

He looked up at that.

“Pretending what?”

“That I wanted to be there. That I didn’t already…” You hesitated. The words felt too big all of a sudden. Too close to something you weren’t sure either of you were ready to say.

“Already what?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

You gave him a small, careful smile. “Already know what I want.”

He stared at you for a moment. Then nodded slowly, like he understood just enough.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

The silence between you wasn’t heavy anymore.

The food arrived, and the moment passed. You both shifted back to easier conversation. Complaining about portion sizes, laughing at how they overcooked his egg, making jabs about your weird sauce preferences.

No one said it, but you both felt it.

It wasn’t a confession. Not exactly.

After the plates were cleared and the bill had been paid, you both just sat there nursing the last of your drinks, your fingers lazily stirring the melting ice around with your straw. Neither of you seemed in a rush to leave.

Heeseung glanced out the window, squinting slightly at the soft morning light filtering in. “It’s still early,” he said, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn that made his voice raspy. “Wanna walk around? There’s that park nearby… you know, the one with the stupidly big ducks.”

You snorted. “The ones that hiss at people?”

“Yeah. You like danger, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were already grabbing your bag. “Fine. But if I get chased, I’m sacrificing you.”

“Fair enough,” he said, grinning as he held the door open for you. The morning breeze was crisp, brushing past your cheeks and ruffling his hair a little. He didn’t bother fixing it.

The walk wasn’t far. It was one of those sleepy neighborhood parks. Just a few worn benches, an old slide, some trees that were finally blooming again. You found an empty bench in the shade and plopped down with a sigh; your legs grateful for the break. Heeseung sat beside you, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

For a while, there wasn’t much said. Just the sound of wind rustling through the leaves, the occasional squawk of an aggressive duck, and the distant bark of someone’s dog.

Then, without warning, you glanced sideways and asked, “Anyways, why did you lie when you said you told me about your part-time job?”

Heeseung blinked like you’d thrown cold water on him.

He looked at you, a little startled. “Huh?”

“You told me you already mentioned it,” you said, leaning back against the bench, casual but still watching him. “But I swear you didn’t.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, fidgeting with a napkin he'd absently tucked into his pocket.

“It’s just a part-time job, you know? Nothing special.” You didn’t say anything, waiting.

He sighed, letting his hands fall to his lap. “To be honest, I was kinda embarrassed about it. Figured you'd make fun of me for working at some random diner.”

You raised a brow. “Why would I make fun of you for that?”

He chuckled dryly. “I dunno. I guess I thought you’d see it and think I peaked in high school or something.” He finally met your gaze, sheepish. “Guess I should’ve known better. Since when do you judge people based on stuff like that?”

You cracked a grin. “Well, I’d definitely make fun of how you look while working. But not where or why.”

That made him laugh, really laugh, and you caught a glimpse of his canines when he smiled, the way his eyes crinkled when he wasn’t trying to hide it.

Then, maybe a little too comfortable, you added, “You looked good in that uniform though.” Your mouth shut a second too late.

Heeseung blinked. His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, and he ducked his head, hiding the blush blooming across his cheeks.

“Oh yeah?” he said, trying for cool but fumbling it. “You... noticed?”

You cleared your throat, willing your face not to burn. “Just saying. It suited you.”

“I thought I looked stupid in it,” he muttered, scratching at his jaw. “Like... cartoon diner boy vibes.”

“You always look stupid,” you said, trying to mask the compliment. “But, like, stupidly good in that uniform. Somehow.”

He turned to you fully now, a full grin spreading across his face. “Stupidly good, huh?” he echoed, nudging your shoulder with his. “I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered.” “Go with flattered,” you muttered.

He laughed softly. “I will then. Coming from you, that’s high praise.”

Then he tilted his head, suddenly thoughtful. “Hey, remember that bet we made in middle school? That if neither of us found anyone by thirty, we’d just marry each other?”

You rolled your eyes. “Jesus, I didn’t think you still remembered that.”

“Of course I do,” he said through a mouthful of whatever snack he’d bought from the park’s sad vending machine. “How could I forget such a ridiculous deal?”

He leaned in a little, his voice playful but low. “Plus, it gives me ten years to write a killer speech for stealing you away. Gotta make it memorable.”

“Ew.” You groaned, half-laughing, half-wanting to throw him off the bench. “You’re so cheesy. Stop! You of all people actually being okay with that is insane.”

Heeseung held up both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll tone it down.” But the smile didn’t leave his face.

Then his voice dipped, not teasing now. Softer. “But seriously. You’d rather end up with some stranger over someone who already knows you? Someone who’s been there... through everything?”

You looked at him, quiet.

He didn’t push. Just kept talking, like he was thinking out loud.

“Not saying I’d actually do it. But… it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, right? Settling down with someone who already knows all your weird habits and still wants to sit on a park bench with you after diner shifts and awkward first dates?”

The question lingered between you, neither rhetorical nor rushed. It hung in the silence like a soft, open-ended maybe.

You didn’t answer right away. Because honestly, you didn’t know how to.

Instead, you just reached out and flicked the corner of the vending machine snack in his hand.

“I only agree if I get to write your vows.”

He blinked. Then his grin returned, brighter than the morning sun overhead.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said, voice warm.

You leaned back, letting your shoulders relax against the bench, watching a pair of ducks waddle toward a group of toddlers.

Heeseung was still beside you, just close enough that your knees bumped occasionally. Not a big moment. Nothing dramatic.

But it felt like everything wasn’t quite the same anymore.

So why are you letting it?

The next few days passed normally, with a tinge of peculiarity. You and Heeseung still bickered, still teased and jabbed at each other, but the edge was gone. Things had softened. Like the air had changed after a storm but neither of you wanted to talk about the lightning that had struck.

He'd text you late at night, just a meme or a weird video. You'd answer immediately, even if you were halfway through brushing your teeth. Sometimes he'd swing by the dental building just to walk you to the bus stop. You pretended not to notice the way your heart started doing gymnastics in your chest whenever he leaned a little too close or smiled a little too long.

Nothing had really changed. Except that everything had.

You didn’t dare bring up what he’d said at the breakfast place. The whole "settling down with your best friend" thing. You weren’t sure if he was serious. Heeseung had always joked like that. Always known how to toe the line. But lately, it felt like the line was erasing itself. You didn’t want to risk crossing it too soon.

And then suddenly, it was just a month before the university’s Interdisciplinary Festival. You could feel it in the shift of the campus vibe. Flyers everywhere, group chats buzzing, department chairs acting more high-strung than usual. You weren’t directly involved. Dentistry didn't usually have flashy showcases. Your part was more behind the scenes, coordinating with allied health orgs, preparing booths, boring but practical stuff.

But Performance Arts? That department lived for this. And Heeseung, being a third-year in Movement and Expression, had one of the biggest showcases lined up.

You only heard about it by accident.

You were on the library steps with your friend Hyejin, eating ice cream like it wasn’t ten in the morning. She was scrolling through her phone, showing you some video of someone absolutely bombing their tap dance final, when she went, "Oh my god, wait. You know Heeseung’s partnered with Yeri, right?"

You blinked. "Partnered for what?"

Hyejin tilted her head like it was obvious. "The interdisciplinary showcase. Their final’s a partner performance piece. Live. Like, full-blown duet. Probably something emotional and contemporary."

You laughed, even though your fingers tightened slightly around your spoon. "Sounds dramatic."

She shrugged. "Kinda hot, though. I mean, those two together? They’re gonna look insane on stage. Everyone’s already talking about it. People are betting on whether they’re gonna kiss in the final scene."

Your laugh this time came out too sharp. "Betting? Seriously?"

"It’s the Performance Arts kids. They make everything theatrical. But yeah, it’s all over the department forums. Some freshman even made a Yeri x Heeseung hashtag. It’s gross."

You scoffed, trying to play it off. "Heeseung’s probably dying of embarrassment. He hates that kind of attention."

But your stomach was sinking. Not because of Yeri, not exactly. Yeri was nice. Really fucking nice. And she and Heeseung made sense on paper. Both were tall, talented, and conventionally attractive. They moved in the same artistic circles. They shared a language you’d never really spoken. The idea of them being shipped together wasn’t surprising. It was reasonable.

And maybe that’s what made it worse.

You didn’t say anything to Heeseung at first. Not when he texted you a blurry selfie of himself trying on a costume for rehearsal. Not when he showed up at your library table the next day with a mango smoothie like he always did.

But you noticed the changes. Subtle things. He was always tired now. Rehearsals were eating up his evenings. He’d started humming unfamiliar melodies under his breath. And once, just once, you caught the faint scent of Yeri’s perfume clinging to his hoodie when he leaned over to help you fix your cracked phone screen.

You didn’t even flinch. You just smiled and handed him the new glass. Like always.

Until the cracks finally showed.

It was Friday evening. You’d both ended up on campus late—him from rehearsal, you from a late lab session. He found you sitting by the vending machines, legs curled up on the bench, eyes glued to your notes.

"You look like you haven’t blinked in an hour," he said, tossing you a small snack pack.

"You look like you got hit by a lighting rig," you shot back, eyeing his sweat-soaked hair.

He grinned. But it was tired. Too tired.

You both sat in silence for a moment, the kind that used to feel comforting. Tonight, it felt like holding your breath.

You nudged his knee. "So. The duet."

He stiffened slightly. Not a flinch, but close.

"Ah. That." He leaned back, resting his head against the wall. "You heard, huh?"

You nodded, keeping your tone light. "Whole school has, apparently. You two trending yet?"

He groaned. "Don’t even. Some sophomore tried to interview us for the school paper. I told them to interview my foot instead."

You snorted. "Nice."

Heeseung scratched at his temple. "It’s not that serious, y’know. Just an assignment. Yeri’s chill. She’s focused. No drama."

You stared at him. "You don’t think it’s a big deal?"

He looked at you then, really looked. And for a moment, the easy smile slipped.

"I didn’t say that," he said quietly. "Just... I didn’t ask for her. We were paired. It’s not like I had a choice."

You tried not to react. "Right. Makes sense."

Heeseung’s eyes narrowed a little, studying your expression. "Why? Does it bother you?"

You shrugged. "Why would it? It’s your class. You’re doing what you have to do."

There was a pause. Something taut stretched between you, neither of you daring to pull too hard.

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he watched you fidget with your notebook. "But it’s bothering you, right?"

You didn’t look up, focusing on the paper in front of you. "I didn’t say that."

He raised an eyebrow. "No, you didn’t. But you’re kind of wearing it on your face."

You huffed, flipping a page in your notebook, trying to avoid the growing tension. "I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it."

Heeseung chuckled softly, but there was a quiet seriousness behind it. "I’m not making a big deal. You are."

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t give in. "I’m not. Just-" You paused, scratching your pen over the paper more harshly than you intended. "It’s just different, okay? I’m used to having you around, not just in passing. And now… it’s like you’re always somewhere else, in some other world. I don’t know, maybe I forgot what that feels like."

There was a long silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just a bit too quiet. Heeseung adjusted in his seat, clearly thinking about what you said. You could feel him looking at you, but you kept your gaze fixed downward, pretending like it didn’t bother you.

Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but with a hint of something almost... understanding. "That’s the problem, isn’t it? You’ve been so used to me being around all the time that now it feels weird."

You stiffened, feeling a flicker of irritation. "I’m not saying it’s a problem."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You’re not the best at explaining things, you know that?"

"Well, maybe if you didn’t make everything feel like a thing, it’d be easier to explain."

There was another wave of silence, but this time, it didn’t feel quite as tense. Heeseung shifted again, this time reaching over to poke your arm lightly. "Alright, alright. I get it. You miss me or whatever."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "I don’t miss you, I just-" You stopped yourself before you could say more, mentally cursing your own brain for letting that slip.

"Yeah, sure," Heeseung said, his voice now teasing but still light. "I know you’re just totally fine without me around."

You gave him a look, not bothering to respond. The familiar bickering felt oddly comforting, even if it didn’t solve anything. You could almost pretend like things weren’t shifting, that nothing had changed.

Heeseung leaned a little closer, his voice quieter this time, not quite teasing but not completely serious either. "You know, I’m still here, right? Even if I’m not always right in front of you."

You glanced at him, but your gaze faltered quickly. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of those words, even though they weren’t as heavy as they could have been. "Yeah, I know. You just keep disappearing into your little world for hours."

Heeseung smirked, nudging your arm with his shoulder. "I come back. I always do."

You looked up at him, your expression softening, but you didn’t say anything. For a moment, it felt like there was more between the two of you than you wanted to admit.

Heeseung smiled, the kind of smile that made you want to laugh and roll your eyes at the same time. "Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me."

The university’s interdisciplinary festival was the kind of event that had a little bit of everything: booths on oral health from the Dentistry department, sports exhibitions, and the inevitable Performance Arts showcases that would steal the spotlight, as they always did. Naturally, since the festival spanned multiple departments, each one had its role to play. It was a chaotic, messy combination of everything, but somehow, everything still managed to fall into place. Though not without a bit of stress.

Vicky, your very unfortunately good friend, was the one who dragged you into it.

“You’ve got to come help with the festival, please! I’m begging you!” Vicky had said that day, eyes wide with that slightly manic enthusiasm that usually meant trouble.

You’d wanted to refuse, but you owed her. Big time. You couldn’t exactly back out, not when she’d held a dirty little secret over your head for months. And there was the fact that she’d somehow convinced you to help her out when you’d lost a bet a while ago. This was your punishment, you guessed, helping her run around doing menial tasks for the festival. You sighed dramatically as you agreed, your inner voice grumbling about the mess you were about to step into.

“I’m only doing this because I owe you, Vicky,” you muttered, throwing on your jacket as you followed her to the sign-up table.

“I knew you’d come through,” she grinned widely, practically bouncing on her toes. You shook your head but didn’t argue.

Vicky was good at that, making you feel guilty enough to help her out without ever truly demanding it.

And so, you found yourself getting swept up into the logistics of the festival, running around with other volunteers from different departments. And as fate would have it, you ended up working directly with Yeri.

The thing about Yeri was… she was easy to like. At least, that’s how she came across. She was friendly. Polite. A little too nice at times, in a way that made you feel like she was always trying to read something between the lines. You didn’t know her well. But everyone else seemed to think she was this pure, sweet angel.

It was hard to deny, though, that something about her rubbed you the wrong way now. Maybe it was the way she smiled a little too brightly at you, or the way her eyes lingered on Heeseung just a little too long whenever he was nearby. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. At least, you didn’t want to think it was. But there was something unsettling about the ease with which she seemed to glide through everything, untouched and perfect.

And when you saw her, right there in the middle of it all, managing rehearsal coordination for the Performance Arts group, your stomach twisted in knots.

Her smile was so… practiced as she greeted you. Almost too perfect. She was standing by the entrance of the rehearsal room, clipboard in hand as people filtered in. She waved at you when she saw you approach with Vicky, and then stepped forward, offering a cool bottle of water in a way that felt both casual and deliberate.

“Here,” she said, holding it out to you with a small smile. “It’s gonna be a long day. Stay hydrated.”

You took the bottle from her without a word, fighting the urge to scowl. Vicky, ever the optimist, nudged you with a grin before speaking up.

“I’m gonna grab a coffee. You two go ahead and start getting familiar with the space. You’ll be fine, right?”

You barely had time to answer before Vicky disappeared, leaving you with her.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, avoiding Yeri’s gaze. You were about to turn away, but then her voice stopped you, and you froze.

“So,” she said, her voice light but her gaze sharp. “Are you and Heeseung… dating, or...?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to fight not to let it show. Your chest tightened, and you almost laughed to cover it up.

“No,” you said, as casually as possible, trying to shrug it off. “We’ve known each other forever.” You wanted to move past this. But Yeri wasn’t letting you off that easily.

“Oh.” Her eyes were deceptively innocent as she tilted her head, her smile soft but there was something unsettling about it. “So, you’re like… family, then?” And just like that, your stomach dropped.

Family. That word. The word that made it sound like nothing between you and Heeseung would ever be more than just what you already were. Not that you even wanted it to be more, right? At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself as you awkwardly fumbled for a response.

You forced a smile, a tight thing that never quite reached your eyes. “Yeah, I guess. That’s one way to put it.”

Yeri didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she just didn’t care. She smiled again, a little too warmly, and nodded as if that answer had satisfied her.

“Family, huh?” She repeated, almost to herself, her eyes narrowing slightly, studying you for a moment longer than necessary.

You didn’t know why, but her words hit you like a punch in the gut. Something about them felt too sharp. Too intentional. It was like she was probing for something, trying to understand exactly how far the relationship between you and Heeseung went. You didn’t want to play her game, but she wasn’t going to let you off easy.

“Right.” You swallowed and finally gave in, looking at her for a second before glancing away.

“Well, we’re not really… family, I guess. Just… friends.”

Her smile flickered, a glint of something unreadable flashing in her eyes. She nodded again, still too perfect, too calm.

“Right. Just friends.”

The tension lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. You tried to shake it off, but it clung to you, following you around like a shadow. You didn’t want to think about what Yeri’s words meant. Didn’t want to think about the fact that, in the back of your mind, they made you feel…small.

Before you could say anything else, someone shouted from across the room, calling for Yeri’s attention. She glanced back at you, giving you one final, soft smile.

“I’ll be around if you need anything,” she said, and with that, she turned away, leaving you standing there, feeling a little more unsettled than you had a moment ago.

You wanted to be mad. You wanted to be angry at the way she’d managed to make you feel like you were something less than you were. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to get upset. Not when you felt…stupid.

And maybe it was because of her. Or maybe it was because of the way your heart had stuttered when she’d asked about you and Heeseung. But either way, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was starting to change… again.

And it wasn’t just with her. It was with Heeseung, too.

For the next few days, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way Yeri’s smile had never quite reached her eyes. The way her words seemed so carefully chosen, like she was testing you, seeing how you’d react. You weren’t sure what her angle was, but you knew it was something more than just curiosity.

And Heeseung? He wasn’t making it any easier. You didn’t know if it was the festival getting to you, or the fact that Yeri was always around, her presence like a quiet storm brewing in the background. But you couldn’t escape the feeling that the space between you and Heeseung was widening.

It had always been this easy with him. But now? Now, everything felt...complicated.

It had been a few days since that weird conversation with Yeri. Since that almost-smile you gave her. Since her words, “So you’re like… family?” had been playing on repeat in your head like some cruel inside joke you didn’t know you’d signed up for.

You told yourself you were over it. Told yourself you were being dramatic. But the thing is, once a thought plants itself like that, it doesn’t go away. It twists. It grows teeth. It appears like a teratoma you saw in ‘Grey’s Anatomy.’

The thing about trying to shake something off is that it never really works when you're already spiraling. And after that whole almost-cordial conversation with Yeri a few days ago, the drink offering, the “you’re like family?” line, the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, it had been hard not to spiral. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. That it didn’t mean anything. People asked offhand questions all the time. Yeri didn’t know better.

But you weren’t stupid. You knew a loaded question when you heard one.

Still, you’d managed to push it down. Not away, just barely under the surface, like stuffing a drawer that wouldn’t quite close. You buried yourself in classwork, in shift hours, in helping Vicky plan her chaos of a booth for the Interdisciplinary Festival. She’d somehow roped you into printing tarpaulin designs and labeling props for a dental hygiene game that involved questionable puppet mascots and glitter glue.

And maybe it was easier to be annoyed at Vicky than to sit still long enough to think about how things felt different lately.

Heeseung hadn’t been avoiding you, no. If anything, he was still... around. Still showing up outside your building with a coffee when you didn’t ask, still bumping his knee against yours under the table during lunch, still sending reels at 2am with a “this is you when you’re hungry” caption.

But something had shifted.

Maybe it was you.

Or maybe it was that you noticed the shift more now that Yeri had stepped out of the periphery and into your shared spaces.

It was a late Thursday afternoon when it happened. The hallway leading to the studio wing was mostly quiet, the usual buzz of activity softened by the fact that most departments were busy prepping their respective booths or showcases. You were carrying a stack of laminated activity cards, something Vicky insisted were “vital to audience engagement,” and cutting through the Performance Arts floor because it was a faster route back to your booth.

You didn’t mean to look.

Really, you didn’t.

You only turned your head because you heard music playing from the open studio door. It was something soft and rhythmic, a piano loop that sounded vaguely familiar. You would’ve kept walking if not for the glimpse of movement in your peripheral vision. A flash of grey sweatpants.

A foot pivoting. The sound of a quiet laugh.

And there they were.

Heeseung and Yeri.

In the center of the studio, mid-run-through. You could tell from their breathing that they were nearing the end. Their movements were fluid, he reached for her wrist, spun her in close, and her hand landed on his shoulder like muscle memory. The music faded into its final notes. She stumbled slightly, and he caught her by the waist without missing a beat.

And then, still holding her, he laughed.

It wasn’t flirtatious. It wasn’t intimate in the way people always imagined.

But it was close.

His forehead brushed hers as he chuckled, and she grinned back, flushed from movement, her hand still resting against his chest.

And just like that, the drawer inside you burst open.

You didn’t wait for the rest of the moment. You didn’t give it the grace of an ending. You turned before they could see you, before Heeseung could glance over and realize you’d been standing there like some pathetic cliché in a drama rerun.

The laminated cards dug into your fingers as you walked faster, then faster still, until the hallway blurred and your breath caught unevenly in your throat.

You knew it wasn’t a big deal. Knew that this was rehearsal. Knew that Heeseung didn’t look at Yeri the way he looked at you when you were both cracking jokes in line for ramen, or when you were arguing over toothpaste flavors at the convenience store.

But knowing didn’t mean anything when your brain kept replaying that image. His hands on her waist, their laughter floating in sync, the ease of it all.

And the worst part?

The worst part was how normal it all looked.

How good they looked together.

You don’t remember walking down the stairs.

Your legs must’ve carried you out of the performance wing on autopilot, but your brain was stuck on loop, replaying the scene you weren’t supposed to see. The way he held her. The stupid laugh. That split second of closeness. You kept telling yourself it wasn’t even romantic, and yet here you were, nearly tripping over your own feet on the way back to the volunteer booth because your chest felt tight and hollow at the same time.

By the time you made it to the central quad, the heat in your ears had barely faded. Students were scattered across folding tables, tape guns snapping open, boxes getting unpacked.

Someone was blasting a speaker near the MedTech stall. It was all just noise.

You spotted Vicky instantly, perched like a gremlin on top of a chair, one leg folded under her as she furiously labeled laminated tags. Her drink was half-spilled next to a tangle of string lights. Typical.

You dropped the flyers in front of her with a little too much force.

Vicky flinched. “Damn. You tryna give me a paper cut to the throat or something?” You didn’t answer.

She peered at you, head tilted. “You good?” Still nothing.

Vicky blinked. “Okay, mood.”

You sat down wordlessly across from her, staring blankly at the label sheet.

After a beat, she gave you a look. “...You passed by the rehearsal studio, didn’t you?” That snapped your head up.

Your silence was enough of a confession.

Vicky hissed through her teeth. “I told you not to take the back hallway. Didn’t I literally say not to risk it today?”

“I wasn’t trying to spy,” you said stiffly. “It was just the fastest way. I wasn’t expecting-”

“Well, yeah. No one expects to get punched in the gut by destiny.”

You frowned. “This isn’t some drama.”

“Isn’t it?” she countered, flicking a label onto a folder. “Because I’m pretty sure that looked a hell of a lot like the third-act misunderstanding in Twilight. You’re Bella. Yeri’s the romantic rival. Heeseung’s the-”

“Don’t,” you warned. “Do not call him Edward.”

Vicky shrugged, deadpan. “I was gonna say Jacob, actually. But tomato, tomato.”

You shot her a glare, but your heart wasn’t in it. Your stomach was still twisted up, your chest still humming with that awful buzzing feeling. Like jealousy, but meaner. Heavier.

She studied you for a moment before softening, her voice dipping lower. “Look, I get it. I know it sucks. And I know you’re not gonna say it out loud, but you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re jealous, then.”

“I’m not-” You bit off the rest, jaw tight. “I’m not anything.”

Vicky gave you the most annoying knowing smile. “Sure. Which is why you’re out here nearly cracking a hole in my table.”

You folded your arms, but the motion felt defensive even to you.

She pressed. “Be real, though. Are you actually upset about the duet? Or about the fact that it looked... comfortable?” That landed.

You exhaled sharply and looked away. “It wasn’t even romantic.”

“But it could’ve been. If you didn’t know better.” Vicky leaned back in her chair. “That’s what stings the most, huh?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

She watched you for a second, then leaned forward, voice softer now. “Look. I know it’s easier to pretend it’s nothing. But I also know you. And you don’t look at people like that unless it means something.”

You swallowed hard.

“Even if you can’t say it,” she added gently, “you feel it. That’s enough to make this kind of thing hurt.”

You stared down at the table. A breeze lifted one of the corner tags and fluttered it against your arm.

“I told myself I didn’t care,” you murmured. “Everyone knows they’re partnered. I thought I was fine. I was fine.”

“And then you saw it.”

You nodded, slowly. “He laughed.”

Vicky raised a brow. “And that’s the crime?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s just… he laughed like it was easy. Like she belonged there. In his arms. I’ve seen him do duets before, but this...” You trailed off. Your throat felt tight.

“She’s good at what she does,” Vicky said, not unkindly. “And she’s not stupid. She knows exactly how she comes off.”

“I know.”

“She probably knows you’re watching, too.” You blinked at her.

“C’mon,” Vicky said, scoffing. “Yeri’s not dumb. She asked if you and Heeseung were dating in the most suspiciously casual way imaginable. You think she wasn’t testing the waters?”

You clenched your jaw, that old bitterness creeping back in. “She said we were like family.”

“Oh, ouch.”

“Yeah.”

Vicky sighed, sliding her drink over to you. “You want me to ‘accidentally’ trip and spill glitter on her head?”

You cracked a laugh. It was weak. Shaky. But real.

“I’m serious,” she said, straight-faced. “I’ll ruin her whole aesthetic. It’ll be glitterpocalypse.” “I appreciate the offer,” you mumbled.

A long silence stretched between you, filled only by the sounds of other students setting up around you, the distant hum of another speaker kicking on.

And then Vicky said, softer, “You’re allowed to feel things, you know. Even if you’re not dating him. Even if no one said anything out loud yet.”

You blinked fast. The backs of your eyes were starting to sting.

“But what if I’m just... reading too much into it?” you asked, voice quiet. “What if I’m the only one who thinks we’re… whatever we are?”

“You’re not,” Vicky said firmly. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s not just you.”

You stared at the tabletop, her words echoing in your chest like they wanted to stick but didn’t know where to land.

“Just don’t let this one moment undo everything you’ve built with him,” she added, nudging your hand. “You guys have history. Depth. That beats any choreography any day.” You nodded slowly, even though the ache hadn’t left. Not really.

But for now, you stayed.

You let Vicky drag you into more prep work, into stringing lights and faking jokes, into the chaos of your friendship, even while the image of Heeseung and Yeri refused to leave the back of your mind.

Even while the burn lingered.

Even while the question, the one you never said out loud, twisted deeper inside you:

If you were really his person...

Then why did it feel like he was learning to smile in someone else's direction?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[mminghaos]

best friend seungcheol whom you have a crush on, but never told him. he doesn't know it either and y'all just bicker all the time as bsf, one day all of it changes when you finally say you found a match on some dating app. he realises it and bam! hot and heavy shit go down.

bitter crush , choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: your bestfriend doesn’t know you’ve had a crush on him for years, but when you mention matching with someone on a dating app, everything changes.

WARNINGS: smut, fingering, kissing, teasing, mingyu as the failed date lmfao

requests are open, do send some in!!

you’ve been friends with seungcheol since high school, watching each other grow up — first jobs, first kisses, and everything in between, sticking together through the highs and lows. your friendship is built on bickering and teasing each other like it’s second nature. but now, the bickering feels different.

“i matched with someone on that app i told you about,” you say, placing your coffee down on the wooden table of the café you and seungcheol are sitting at.

you’d decided to give a dating app a shot, hoping it would help you take your mind off seungcheol. maybe meeting someone new will help you move on, or at least distract you from the constant thoughts about him. but so far, it’s just more of the same — swiping, chatting, but none of its ever seemed to match the energy you share with him. you might as well move on, since seungcheol has is own hookups and girlfriends, and none of them will ever be you. its frustrating, the way this burning crush for him is always shimmering beneath the surface, gnawing at you. this is going to be the death of you — that’s what you always tell yourself.

“so you’re telling me you’re out here swiping on strangers?” he responds, his voice laced with something you can’t quite place. “what happened to the whole ‘not needing anyone’ thing?”

“it changed.”

“really? that’s weird.” he says, his eyes never leaving you. “thought you were too busy to deal with anyone new.”

you roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. “yeah, well, apparently im not as busy as i thought.”

you’ve never been the type to casually date or get involved with someone just for the sake of it. but lately, things feel different. seungcheol’s always been there — constant, reliable, and annoyingly perfect in his own way — and it’s hard to ignore how your thoughts always circle back to him, no matter how many times you try to push them away. you’ve never said it out loud, never let him in on the truth of how much he’s been occupying your mind, and the idea of dating someone else? it almost feels like a joke. you’re not really here for some random guy who doesn’t know you like he does. but the more you try to distract yourself, the more you realize how little it helps. no matter how many matches you get, no conversation ever seems to compare to the effortless back and forth you share with seungcheol. it’s like you’re chasing something that doesn’t quite exist, and each swipe only makes you feel more frustrated. but you can’t exactly admit that, not to him, not to anyone. so you keep trying, hoping maybe this time will be different, even though you know deep down it won’t be.

“so, who’s this guy?”

you shrug, trying to keep your voice steady. “kim mingyu. he’s nice. we’ve met a few times before, actually — works at that bar down the street.”

seungcheol leans back in his chair, his arms crossed as he watched you. he clears his throat. “just don’t pick some random guy who doesn’t get you, alright?”

“what, are you jealous or something?”

“no.”

the date with mingyu went well. you two got along really great — there was no shortage of conversation, and the chemistry was comfortable. you both enjoyed the meal and found common ground in ways that made the evening feel lighthearted and easy. it was nice, actually, to just relax and enjoy someone’s company without any pressure.

even if the date was good, you and mingyu both agreed that you should just be friends, neither of you feeling the sparks you were hoping for.

you walk into your apartment, slipping off your shoes and placing your keys under the mat. its quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. you head towards the living room, where seungcheol is sprawled on your couch, sorting through the groceries he offered to pick up for you earlier this week.

“you’re back early,” he says, glancing up with a smirk. “thought you were gonna be out all night with your… date.”

you roll your eyes, not really in the mood to talk about it. “it was fine,” you reply, shrugging as you drop your purse on the counter. “nothing special.”

seungcheol raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “really?”

you let out a breath, trying to sound casual. “yeah, well, turns out i’m not as interested as i thought.”

he tilts his head, looking at you like he’s trying to figure you out. “what do you mean?”

you hesitate, leaning against the kitchen counter, fingers tapping against the countertop. “we got along, i guess. but we just decided to be friends.”

“huh.” seungcheol shrugs, clearly unconcerned, though there’s something in the way he watches you that makes you pause. “so you’re saying you don’t feel any connection with him at all?”

you shift, rubbing the back of your neck. “it’s just… not there. but whatever. i’m fine.”

“you sure?” seungcheol presses, his voice dropping an octave, and you can’t help but notice how close he’s sitting now. “because i’m sure someone else would love the chance to—”

“ugh, please.” you cut him off, trying to brush it off. “i don’t need some random guy to be interested.”

he smirks, clearly not buying it. “really? sounds like you do.”

you bite your lip, trying to hold onto your patience, but it’s slipping through your fingers. you know he’s teasing, and usually, you’d laugh it off, but tonight feels different. there’s a tension in the air that you can’t ignore, something that’s been building for years. frustration bubbles up inside you, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“cheol, i like you, okay?” you blurt out, your voice trembling slightly, surprised by how easily it all comes rushing out.

he pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. there’s a moment of silence, and you feel like you’re about to suffocate under the weight of it. his gaze flickers to your face, then down to your hands, then back to your eyes, as if trying to figure out what’s really going on.

“wait,” he says slowly, his tone less playful and more cautious now. “you’re not drunk, are you? had drinks or something when you were out?”

you quickly shake your head, trying to steady your breath. “no, i’m not drunk. i just—” but the words feel clumsy on your tongue, and suddenly, you’re unsure of how to take them back.

“i shouldn’t have said that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “this was stupid, i’m sorry. i don’t even know why i—”

you start rambling, trying to downplay the confession that’s just slipped out. each word feels like it’s digging you deeper, and you just want to take it all back. “i mean, i don’t even know what i was thinking—this is—god, i’m so—”

but before you can finish, seungcheol pushes himself off the couch and walks towards you, stopping just a few inches away. his eyes still lock on yours. the silence stretches, and you feel your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. you want to say something, to apologize again, but all the words are caught in your chest.

“stop,” he says softly, his voice low, but there’s an intensity in it that you can’t ignore.

you open your mouth, wanting to explain, to take back the awkward confession, but the words jumble in your mind. “it’s just… i didn’t want to make it weird, and now i’ve probably ruined everything—”

seungcheol doesn’t say anything, just watches you with an unreadable look in his eyes, waiting for you to stop rambling. you go on anyway, trying to explain yourself, even though you can feel yourself getting more flustered with each passing second.

before you can continue, he steps forward, his hand gently cupping your face, cutting off your words. you freeze, eyes wide, but before you can process anything, his lips crash onto yours, effectively silencing you.

the kiss is deep and urgent, like he’s been holding back too. your brain barely registers what’s happening as your hands instinctively move to his chest, but the tension that had been building between you both for so long snaps. everything goes quiet in your mind, and for the first time tonight, all the chaos and nerves fall away, replaced by the heat of his kiss.

the kiss lingers for a moment, intense and raw, as if neither of you wants to pull away. your breath mingles with his, the world around you blurring until there’s only the feeling of him so close, so real. your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears, and you can feel the tension in his body as he holds you just a bit tighter, as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

when he finally pulls back, you’re left breathless, your forehead resting against his as you both try to catch your breath. his hands are still on you, one gently holding your face, the other resting on your hip, grounding you.

“you really don’t make things easy, do you?” he murmurs, his voice a little hoarse, the teasing edge back in his tone, but it’s softer now, more affectionate.

you don’t trust yourself to speak right away. all the words that had been stuck in your chest before are now lost, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of him so close, his touch still lingering on your skin. instead, you look up at him, meeting his eyes, trying to make sense of everything, but before you can say anything, he smiles slightly, a genuine, soft expression.

“i didn’t realise how much i liked you until you told me about that guy,” he admits, brushing his thumb over your cheek gently. “i was too stupid to notice.”

you dont get to reply because his hand moves down your back, pulling you closer, your chest pressed against his. the room feels warmer now, charged with something you can't ignore. your hands find their way to his chest, pushing lightly at first, unsure if you should pull away or let it happen. but he doesn't give you that chance.

his lips return to yours, but this time, there's more urgency in it, his kiss deepening as his tongue brushes against yours. you let out a soft sigh, the tension that's been building between you two for what feels like forever finally snapping. he groans, his hand moving to your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss further. the heat between you both grows, and you can feel every inch of him pressing against you, making your pulse quicken.

seungcheol's voice is low, almost a whisper as he takes a step back, hands resting on your waist, grounding you both. "do you want to keep going?" he asks.

you nod, your heart racing, but your mind is clear. “yes.”

he doesn't say anything more, just nods and gently takes your hand, leading you through the apartment. when you get to your room, he lays you down on the bed gently, his hands never leaving you.

seungcheol hovers over you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation, any sign that you’re unsure. you can feel his body close to yours, the warmth radiating off him. “are you sure?”

“yes, cheol.” you let out a light laugh, pulling him closer. “im sure.”

his lips trail down your jaw, each kiss softer than the last before he moves to your neck, his teeth grazing slightly over the skin. you let out a soft sigh once he pulls back after reaching where your shirt starts. before he can say anything, you’re reaching for the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric over your head.

seungcheol takes a moment, his gaze lingering on you before meeting your eyes again.

“you’re so beautiful,” he says, unclasping your bra and slipping it off. “god.”

his hands find their way to your pants as he trails kisses down your chest, each one growing more desperate as his lips move lower. the warmth of his breath against your skin sends a shiver through you, and you can feel your heart race with every gentle press of his lips.

eventually, he pulls your pants off, discarding them somewhere on the floor behind him. “please.” you breathe out

“hmm?” he responds, his fingers slipping just under the band of your panties. “what do you want, baby?”

“need you inside me, please.”

he glances down at you, lips twitching up into a smirk. “patience.”

“no, no, no— cheol, please—” you whimper out.

“don’t worry, you’ll get what you want.” he cuts you off, pressing a light kiss to your collarbone.

when he finally stops teasing you and pulls your panties down, tossing them god knows where, you’re already a mess underneath him. every nerve in your body is on edge, anticipation building as he slides two fingers through your folds. “fuck, you’re soaking wet for me, baby.” a low groan escapes his lips, his restraint wavering as he fights to hold himself back.

he slowly pushes one finger into your pussy, giving you a moment to relax before he adds another and starts to curl them into all the right places.

“cheol!” your head falls back against the pillow, hand going to grab his wrist for some sort of stability.

“yeah, you like that?”

you’re already so close — just from the way his fingers move inside you, hitting every spot that sends sparks shooting througu your body.

you nod over and over again, hips rising to match the rhythm of his movements. “don’t stop— fuck— please, im so close.” 

your breath hitches, and you clutch at his arm, desperate for grounding as the sensations overwhelm you. every stroke of his fingers feels like its pulling you closer to the brink, and the tension in your body winds tighter with each passing second. “please—” the word slips out as a whisper, barely audible. your legs start to shake, the pleasure coursing through you almost too much to bear.

before you can even warn seungcheol, you’re coming undone all over his fingers, hips bucking up at the same time.

“god, thats so hot.” he mutters, but you’re too out of it to know if its to you or himself.

"you alright?" seungcheol asks softly, his hand resting on your hip as he looks down at you with concern. his touch is gentle, almost hesitant, as if he's checking for any sign of discomfort.

you nod, your breath still ragged, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "yeah, i'm good. just... didn't expect that." your voice is breathy, the lingering effects of the moment still making your body tingle.

seungcheol smirks, clearly pleased with the reaction. "you sure you're not too overwhelmed?" he teases, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

you laugh softly, the sound shaky but genuine. "im fine" you reply, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye. "was that your way of saying you like me too?"

“it was.” he smirks, eyes locking onto yours. “think you can go for one more round?”

he really is going to be the death of you.

[cloakedpress]

How to Write Better Characters: Roles, Motivation & Actually Making People Care

Let’s be real: your story can have the coolest magic system, the twistiness of the plot, or the hottest vampire/detective/alien—  

but if your characters are flat?  

Nobody’s sticking around.

So let’s break down how to give your characters real presence in your story by understanding their role, their motivation, and how to make them hit harder on the page.

1. What’s Their Role in the Story?

Every character needs a *reason to exist*. Think of them like parts in a machine. What do they *do* in your narrative?

Here are a few basic types:

- Protagonist: The one we’re rooting for. They drive the plot forward.

- Antagonist: The one in their way. Doesn’t have to be evil—just opposed.

- Foil: Someone who reflects the main character’s traits by contrast.

- Mentor: Offers wisdom, often with a tragic backstory or dramatic exit.

- Love Interest: Romantic tension? Check. But make sure they’re *more* than just eye candy.

- Wildcard: Unpredictable chaos gremlin. Every story needs one.

TIP: If you can remove a character without changing the plot? You probably should.

2. What Do They Want? (AKA Motivation)

This is the *core* of your character. Motivation makes everything feel real. Ask yourself:

- What does this character want more than anything?

- Why do they want it?

- What are they willing to do (or give up) to get it?

Bonus points if their motivation is in conflict with someone else’s. That’s where the juicy drama lives.

Ex: “She wants to save her sister. He wants to save the world. One bomb. One choice.”    Now we’re COOKING.

3. How Do You Show It?

Motivation isn’t just monologues and dramatic speeches. It’s in:

- What they *notice* first in a room.

- Who they *trust* (or don’t).

- The mistakes they keep repeating.

- The lies they tell *themselves*.

A character who’s obsessed with control might organize their bag mid-crisis.  

A character desperate to be loved might make themselves useful to everyone… even villains.

4. Let Them Be Messy

Perfect characters are boring.  

Give them contradictions. Regrets. Bad coping mechanisms. Let them be *wrong*. Let them grow.

Characters who never fail or change = characters nobody relates to.

Let your soft boys punch someone. Let your bad girls cry. Let your villains have a point.

5. Ask Yourself the Hard Stuff

- What would break this character?

- What line won’t they cross?

- Who are they when no one’s watching?

If you can answer these? You *know* your character.

6. Level Up: Relationships Matter

Characters don’t exist in a vacuum. Use dynamics to reveal depth:

- A character might be brave in a fight but terrified of disappointing their mentor.

- A flirty rogue might go speechless around the person they actually care about.

- A villain’s cruelty might soften around their childhood friend.

People are different with different people. Show it.

 TL;DR:  

Great characters = clear role + deep motivation + real emotion. 

Make them want things. Make them struggle. Make them human (even if they’re a dragon princess from space).

Want help building a specific character? Drop their name + vibe in my ask box. Let’s break them open together.

[melwnst]

────── ⋆⋅☆ MARRIED LIFE WITH DEAN HEADCANONS

⭑.ᐟ so I lied…. Just got inspired so quickly wrote this! I’ll really be back tomorrow or Sunday but here’s a cute one<3 please interact and send requests if u have any!! (Here’s dad!dean headcanons, and dating Dean headcanons!)

supernatural masterlist/full masterlist

──────────୨ৎ──────────

⭑.ᐟ He’s so touch starved like he’s never been touched before…. It’s like something’s different the moment your status changes because now he’s a husband and he wants to spoil you even more but he needs your touch EVERY TIME like he’s actually almost annoying in a cute way.

⭑.ᐟdean’s the type of guy who puts everyone above himself, he’ll never prioritize himself over the people he loves. So sometimes he’ll skip entire nights of sleeping so he can watch you, make sure you’re safe next to him, and just be on the verge of tears cuz he can’t believe how lucky he is. Impostor syndrome at its finest he feels like he doesn’t deserve you/this no matter how many times you tell him that he does.

⭑.ᐟ The moment you’ve settled down and promise each other to never go back to that hell of a life, deans never been happier. You’ll catch him cooking breakfast fully singing, dancing or whistling. He’s genuinely happy. His smile doesn’t feel forced, he wants to be here, with you, and you know he misses it sometimes but he’ll never go back because now he has you.

⭑.ᐟlong mornings tangled up in bed together, just the sound of your breathing, not talking, because you’re with each other and you don’t need to talk. You need to take the moment in, and that happens so often at some point that’s just what every morning looks like. Then he’ll cook breakfast, which he’s surprisingly great at, you’ll get ready together and get on with work etc.. whenever you’re together again at night, falling asleep will be the same. Silence, enjoying the moment together without even sleeping until eventually you doze off.

⭑.ᐟhe never falls asleep first. He always finds a way of knowing if you’re asleep or not, and when he gets confirmation he’ll either stay up all night looking out for you even if he doesn’t have to, or he’ll be at peace knowing you’re safe next to him, he’ll fall asleep. Even though he still gets nightmares most nights, they’re not as bad as they used to be because you’re here so he feels better, more grounded, safer.

⭑.ᐟmovie night every Friday, you never miss one. It’s just you and him, either the movie is in the background and you’re having a hot make out session, or you’re wrapped up together on the couch enjoying a shitty movie with snacks all around. Sometimes he’ll take you to dinner before or cook your favorite food. Or sometimes you’ll just go to the movies period. Maybe Dean will fall asleep, and you tease him about it all the time so he’d rather stay home with you.

⭑.ᐟ he sings in the shower… if you’re both in the shower together he’ll go full concert mode and it’s so hilarious that’s almost your favorite time of the day.

⭑.ᐟhe’s such a shit talker…. When he comes home from work he’ll gossip for hours if he has too many things to say, you’ll sit back and laugh in silence because he’s sooooooo annoyingly funny!

⭑.ᐟDean gets hotter with age, so do you. So the passion grows even hotter, day by day. He’s always been hot but his charisma and charm is just so unmatched. AHHHHHHHHHH

⭑.ᐟhe’s always loved making you feel good in bed. But ever since getting married, he’s more careful, softer but also rougher when he needs to be, or when you ask for it. He’ll just do whatever you ask of him. HOWEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hes lowkey a sub sometimes. He’ll whine, he’ll beg. YOU LOVE IT.

⭑.ᐟhe’s so worried all the time he’ll snap his fingers and you’ll be gone. He’s always worried too much about everything and anything, but with you he just doesn’t know why you’re still with him. You make him feel like the best husband ever but there’s still this bit of doubt in the back of his mind that worries you’ll leave. He knows that’s not you- but he’s scared if you don’t leave, you’ll be taken away from him because eventually everyone does in his life. Everyone leaves, or dies.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist: @tinas111 @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @mostlymarvelgirl @that-stanford-girlie @sunnyteume @bohoooitsme @beelzebzb @l0v33-rey (comment to be added!)

[gracieheartspedro]

Lessons in Art History

my main masterlist - eddie munson masterlist

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 10.5k (tehe sorry not sorry)

description: eddie needs to graduate. a stupid summer art class is getting in his way. luckily for him, his neighbor and childhood crush is an art history major. and you're ready to make a deal.

warnings: 18+ content, MDNI, no use of y/n, reader is in college, both parties are 18+, mention of abusive parents, drug use, consumption of alcohol, mentions of relying on alcohol, mentions of body mutilation, eddie is a doesn't understand art and you really do, smut, lots of tension, no mention of specific body type, dubcon (both are under the influence, they are tipsy/high), oral (f recieving) unprotected p in v, body worship, dirty talk, eddie cums 'quickly', eddie finishes inside. eddie just really loves your body. aftercare.

authors note: this has been sitting in my docs forever. i finally finished it on a whim. enjoy me combining two things i really love! art history and eddie munson <3 if you guys want to see more of these two, pls don't hesitate to pop in my asks. also thank you to my beta's aka @pedgito and @amanitacowboy! kisses to the both of you! MUAHHH!!

how to help palestine ~ dividers by @cafekitsune

sweet moodboard my dearest @amanitacowboy made for this fic <3

Eddie did not understand art. 

The fact that he even had to take the stupid art history course in summer school aggravated him. When the teacher would blab on and on about different mediums and their importance to history, he found himself almost dozing off. Sure some of the paintings they were studying were cool, but it seemed very… pretentious. 

But he’s failing and he can not be failing. 

As soon as he saw your old Chevy pull into the driveway across from his, he knew he was in for a treat this summer. Seeing you again would only send his heart racing, he knew that for sure. When he sees you in passing, mainly when he’s heading to the school in the morning, you always offered a passive wave and pleasant smile. You had only gotten more beautiful since you left for college. 

Luckily for him, his childhood crush and next door neighbor was in college studying Fine Arts and she was home for the summer. Finally. 

You had just concluded your freshman year at Indiana State University. It had been a dream of yours since you were a kid to go to school for art. Saving all your money made from the diner downtown helped with a good chunk of your first semester and your second semester was proudly sponsored by your rich aunt. Lucky you. 

You had plans to spend your summer working on some art pieces to build your resume. Your preferred medium was watercolors and oil paints, so your small bedroom was littered with canvases and cold-pressed sheets. You have lived in this trailer your entire life and it was by far the messiest it’s ever been. Not just from you, but from your mom and younger sister. You spent most mornings picking up after them, and you soon realize that’s all you have ever done your entire life. The reason the house was this bad was because you were now gone and not slaving to keep the base boards dusted. 

You needed to get out of the house. 

So you started spending time outside, occupying some lawn chairs on your back porch. The shade was limited to one corner of the broken down rotted wood, so you positioned the chair there and set up your easel. 

There had been a couple occasions in the time you have been home where you had seen your neighbors and had very basic conversations with them. You said hello to Max Mayfield when she skateboarded past your driveway, but you do not believe she actually heard you. Wayne Munson had waved to you one day when he was leaving for work. And then of course the moments you saw Eddie. 

He had not changed one bit, that boy. You had a sneaky small crush on him when you two shared a couple classes together your senior year. You had lived right across from him for practically your whole life, yet when he sat next to you in English class, you felt yourself stealing glances and sharing hushed jokes together. You were not sure if the crush was loosely based because you two were always in close proximity to each other, but he was cute. 

One particularly hot afternoon, you hear the crunching of your dying grass on the side of the house. You glance up from your canvas only to see him.

Eddie was supposed to graduate alongside you but between all his absences, bad grades, and mischievous behaviors, he failed. Twice. 

You put your paint down on a rusted out table, wiping the excess colors on your shirt with your elementary school mascot on it. 

“Hey,” You say lightly, shooting him a gentle smile. You could not lie that your stomach did a bit of a flip when his eyes locked with yours. And just like that, Eddie is reminded why he used to like you so damn much. 

Your smile was enough to make a man halt in place, and that’s exactly what he did. 

You seemed disheveled, which Eddie found oddly attractive. Your shirt was covered in dry and wet paint, looking like you just wipe whatever paint you’re not using on yourself. It was an array of colors, but mainly different hues of blues and yellows.

He quickly starts to regret his initial plan. Originally he was going to catch you leaving your house one day, asking how college was going, and see if you were interested in helping him study for his next test. But you never left your house at the same time, and he could not just casually hang out outside 24/7 waiting for you. That would be weird. Stalkerish. 

So after one particularly bad quiz, he worked up enough courage to walk straight up to you while you sat and worked magic. Problem was, he did not plan what to say, only thinking of it as he approached you. And of course, when you say ‘hello’, he quickly realizes you stole his voice with your gaze.

You just look at him, sensing he must be lost or something. 

He finally finds his voice after clearing away some phlegm, “I need your help.”

Your eyes flicker to your canvas, inspecting your work from another angle as you hop off the edge of your deck. Eddie starts to get nervous as you approach him, your eyes still firmly planted on your art. 

Eddie used to ask you for the dumbest favors when you two were kids. He used to knock on your door and ask for random ingredients, to walk with him to the mini mart down the street, just anything to get you out of your house and talking to him. 

Looking back now, it was kind of sweet he even thought to invite you, but you were not interested in helping with housework or walking along the back roads of Hawkins with him.

You finally look at him, pursing your lips in faux contemplation, “Eddie… I’m not helping you mow the grass-” He waves his hands in the air, halting you from talking. “No… it’s not that. I am in summer school-”

It was your turn to cut him off, planting your hands on your hips, “Again!?”

He exhales, bringing his ringed fingers over his face and dragging his lower lids down in frustration. 

Eddie was a lot of things, but he was not stupid. You knew he was smart if he applied himself. Problem was that he was bad about caring about school. You remember the days of sitting behind him in 10th grade Algebra and you almost failed with how much he interrupted class to laugh with some friends in the last row. He was the very opposite of yourself. 

He crosses his arms over his Metallica shirt that he’s been wearing for two years, using his fingers to fold his lower lip as you stand like a scolding mother.

“I need to pass this Art History class and I failed the first quiz already. I need it to finish out my credits. Please-” You roll your eyes, matching his stance by crossing your arms. Art History was the easiest subject to you and you adored learning more about it. And Eddie knew that, too. You realize you’ll have wet paint all over your arms as soon as your arm sticks to the front of your shirt. 

“What’s in it for me?”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise, surprised that you are open to tutoring him so quickly. You watch him nod his head, dreaming up how he can repay you. “I’ll smoke you up whenever you want. And… whatever else you want, I guess.”

“Smoking me up whenever I want?”

You like the sound of that. You were just like every other art student at your college. Using substances to get you through each day. Lately, it’s been wine you get from the gas station down the road. But drunk painting is not as productive, so you mainly use it to numb all the other depressing things in your life at night. 

You missed smoking weed, but you have not had the budget to buy. 

But if tutoring Eddie Munson in your favorite subject would get you free weed, you could not say no. 

Eddie nods quickly at your response, desperate to pass. And if it meant hanging out with you, too, it was a win-win-win all around. “Yeah, I just need to pass this class-” You cut him off again, “Okay, fine. But we have to do it at your house.”

You did not need him seeing your hoard of paintings and messy house. And now you had an actual excuse to leave your house. 

Eddie shakes his head, blinking at you curiously. 

“Yeah, no problem,” He claps his hands in front of his body, twisting his foot a bit like a child would, “When can we start?” The wind picks up, and you watch his hair fly across his face. You giggle, watching him brush his locks away from his mouth. You could not deny how cute and endearing he could be occasionally. “What days do you have class?”

“Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

This would be a breeze, you think to yourself. You assume immediately that you would only need to see him two days a week. No big deal. 

You head back up to your deck, taking your canvas off the easel, “Then I’ll see you on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” You stop in movements as he simply states, “Today is Tuesday, sweetheart.”

Your head shoots around, seeing the cheeky smirk playing on his lips. The nickname he called you sends a slight shiver down your spine. It sounded nice coming from him. 

You roll your eyes, though, assuming he means you had to start today.

“Let me grab my notes and change,” His face brightens up at your words. “I’ll be over in 15 minutes.”

-

You soon realize two days a week was not going to help Eddie. You added Monday evenings to the equation pretty quickly when you realized he did not even have the proper textbook. 

“Emerson gave it to me! He told me it was the one he used last year!”

You just rolled your eyes and read his syllables to him, out loud, obnoxiously. He giggled the entire time, commenting about how you should have been a school teacher. 

You two would sit in his bedroom from five in the evening until 8 at night, mainly on his unmade bed, going over different texts and art pieces. Around 7, he would offer you to smoke, which you always agreed to. By 8:30, you were high as a kite and ready to go home. He would send you off with a ‘goodnight, sweetheart’ and watch you walk back over to your front door.

You notice pretty quickly he was always fiddling with his hands, tapping his pencils, biting his fingernails. He could not sit still and it drove you insane. You gave him one of your stress balls one day, hoping the silent squishing would ease his jitters, but instead he started throwing it up and the air. You took it from him soon after, scolding him. 

He was virtually impossible to teach.

You finally get him on track when they start studying Van Gogh. You would simply help Eddie interpret the art, as well as give him the basics information on the artist. 

He thinks it’s funny when you explain how Van Gogh cut off his ear, laughing hysterically when you show him the self portrait.

“Look at his goofy little hat! And the bandage around his head?”

You could not help yourself today. You roll your eyes and sit back against the edge of his bed, trying to redeem your resting easygoing expression. It was becoming too hard, but you distort your smile back on and pivot to him. His face is twisted in amusement, knowing his comment has you reeling.

It was only Monday and you had two more evenings explaining art to him. You could not get him to love the subject, but you try to place the ideas into his day to day life. It seems to stick better when you put it in those terms. It’s hard to do with Van Gogh, sadly, so you just listen to him cracking jokes until it’s time to smoke.

-

He hands you the joint, his lips pursed in contemplation as you take the hit. You are sitting back against his wall, crossing your legs vertically across his bed. You look more relaxed on his bed than he does. 

You exhale, handing him back back the roll. You really needed this high to bring the tension away from your shoulders.

“So, what did you learn today?” You probe, seeing if he actually learned anything. You would not be surprised if he said something about Van Gogh’s ear again. Instead, he just smirks at you, tilting his head back on his wooden headboard.

He takes a drag of the joint, his jaw ticking as he blows out the smoke. “That you’re very patient with me.”

You bite your cheek, preventing yourself for smiling. He could see right through you, no matter how hard you tried to disguise your annoyance with him. 

“You’re giving me free weed and all I have to do is explain basic concepts to you,” you explain, reaching over to him, brushing your arm across his knee and thigh. The physical touch leaves goosebumps all over your arm.

“Like 40 times, over and over again.”

You smirk at that, “Again. Free weed.”

“And the company, of course,” He says as he leans forward, poking your thigh with his pointer finger.

The comment makes your stomach flip, butterflies sprouting as you watch his smile get wider. 

You honestly would not have done this if it was any other guy from Hawkins High. You hated most of the people you graduated with, knowing they were all assholes or weird. Or both. 

And while Eddie was an oddball, he had manners and knew where to draw the line with you. He never made you feel unsafe or awkward. He was just so shamelessly himself and somehow that meshed well with your personality. 

“Yeah, you’re alright I guess,” You sneer, trying to act as coy as possible. You could feel the heat burning your cheeks and Eddie noticed it, too. He would not say anything though, just trying to rid his mind of the feeling of your arm brushing across his leg earlier.

-

“I just don’t get the point of big red squares on big black canvas.”

Week 4 proved to be the week where they throw high school summer school students into the deep end. You curse the teacher as soon as Eddie comes home with print outs of Mark Rothko’s abstract paintings.

You really enjoyed Rothko’s work, having seen it in person in Chicago on a school trip. You almost felt protective over his art. 

So when Eddie goes on his normal rambles about how silly art really is, you cannot help yourself.

You grab the print out of the unnamed yellow orange piece, “There’s nothing to get Eddie, it’s just…”

“You said this Rothko guy was this infamous artist and all he does is paint shapes,” He looks at the paper over your shoulder. He’s currently sprawled across his bed, while you sit on his floor with all the dust bunnies. His head is right next to yours and you can feel his curls laying on your bare shoulder. 

Why did you wear a tank top today?

You huff, sitting forward a bit, “Eddie, it’s not about what he wanted it to be, it’s what you interpret it as.” “Well it’s squares. That’s all I interpret, sweetheart.”

You inhale a deep breath, the anger rising within you turning quickly into how you could break down the kind-of pretentious pieces. You had to admit that Rothko’s ideas were pretty out there. You also knew that they seemed very grandiose to an average person, but he had his intentions in the right place.

“Can I explain it to you,” You look up at him, your faces inches away. It causes your breath to hitch in your throat. “Cause you’re just… so wrong.”

A smile crosses his face, waiting for you to go into detail. “Go on, princess.”

You look back at the print, cocking your head to the side. You had explained his art to other people before but you knew you would have to phase it down a bit for Eddie.

“Rothko is not telling you to feel one way or another,” You point at the orange part of the pieces, “You may see those squares, but it’s more about the colors. The paint strokes. You see them in person and they are like… all consuming. His point was not to make something for himself, it was so that observer could reflect inward and use his art to their advantage. To grieve. To be happy. To reminisce. So it’s not about the squares. It’s about what the colors evoke.”

His finger points right beside where yours sits on the page, “What does this one say to you?”

You smile as you reflect on the painting. It’s not exactly where it needs to be. Rothko does not need to be a printed flimsy piece of paper, it needs a huge canvas, but it still evokes something in you. With Eddie over your shoulder, the ideas flowing within you sends goosebumps across your neck and back. His closeness only adds to the slowing of your heart rate.

“The yellow and salmon color make me hopeful. Like I can actually get somewhere and be something. It reminds me of some beautiful sunrises I’ve had the privilege of watching. Makes me feel like I’ll be alright.”

Eddie’s eyes search your face, watching your lips twitch as you observe the piece. It kind of spilled out of you. You try not to get too into your perceptions of art with him, simply just giving him information and making him write and conclude his own opinions. But art is the only thing in the world you felt held by and on rare occasions, you had to bare your soul. Eddie was just the unlucky bastard to hear about it.

The gentle way you describe things, every word sounding so precious, made Eddie’s whole head explode with adoration. He spent so many evenings watching you, quietly admiring the way you moved, the way you spoke, and while he knew the crush he harbored was major, it only got worse spending these last few weeks with you. He got to see your little unique quirks up close and he was hopelessly in love with you. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers, his voice a bit strained. You glance up at him, completely whiplashed by his response. 

The way he’s looking at you makes you believe he does not even realize he said that out loud. His eyes soften, as you scan his face. Your gaze falls to his lips before you finally speak up, your heartbeat in your ears.

“What?” 

His eyes widened, realizing his mistake. He sits back and snaps his gaze away from you. Your cheeks heat up as you come to realize you had read the situation correctly. He rubs his hand over his face in embarrassment, trying to gain his bearings.

“I’m.. I didn’t mean to… say that out loud.”

He’s fumbling over his words, which makes a smile creep across your face. You knew what it was to blunder like this, having done it one too many times with guys you liked. You wanted to reassure him without making it seem like too big of a deal. But boy, was it a big deal. 

“It’s okay,” You manage to say, trying not to giggle. You cannot help yourself, though. As soon as the breath leaves your mouth, he groans.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

He is standing up now, rolling off his bed. His tall frame starts to pace his bedroom, his hands never leaving his face. He could not bear to look at you.  

You pull your knees into your chest, trying to ease his nerves with a simple, “Don’t be sorry, it’s completely okay.”

He stops in his tracks, placing his hands on his hips. You cannot help but find him charming, his face all red, his hair untidy, his shirt twisted from the way he was laying. You had to admit, in a not-out-loud-way, that he was beautiful, too.

“You just got on that whole tangent and the passion you had for the art put me in a trance and…” He starts to pace again when he sees your lips curve up, “I just… yeah.”

You giggle, his words sending your heart racing even more, “I put you in a trance, huh?”

He slaps his hand over his forehead, realizing he can not stop saying stupid things. “Studying session over. ‘M rolling a joint.”

-

It was final day. 

The last couple weeks with Eddie consisted of a lot of him really diving in head first into the topics they were discussing in class. While he still needed your guidance on dissecting certain pieces and how they related back to the artists, he was coming home with quizzes that had red scribbled ‘B’s’ on the top of the paper. That’s all he needed to pass. 

You had settled with the fact that Eddie was never going to bring up what he said to you again. After that evening, he was hesitant to even sit a foot away from you, always residing on the opposite side of the room. 

It hurt a bit. You do not know if he actually meant it or not, and the mystery of it all was eating you alive. When you would let your eyes linger on him for longer than usual, you wanted to crawl out of your skin when he would intentionally look away from you. He was avoiding it, and you knew it.

But Eddie was not avoiding it. God, he wanted to. You were consuming every thought in his head. When he was in class he was thinking about you, because you were teaching him even more than the teacher was. When he was driving home, a song would play and he would somehow relate it to the way your eyes twinkled at him or how your smooth voice would send tingles down his spine. When he was home, trying to have some down time, he would catch himself staring out his bedroom window, wondering what you were doing in your room across the street. 

He was officially losing it. 

On final day, he got in his car, his fingers nervously tapping his steering wheel, hoping to the heavens and angels that he would pass so he could race over to your front door and leap into your arms in excitement. He just wanted to be near you, always.

-

When he gets the bubble sheet back and sees a 89/100, he jumps up out of his chair and hoots like a banshee. He could not believe his eyes as he gripped the paper with an iron fist, waving it around to all 4 of his classmates. “I’m graduating, fuckers!”

He could not get home fast enough. With the paper sitting on his dash, he flew over curbs, unable to maintain his excitement at passing the stupid class. 

When he pulls into Forest Hills and fails to see your car in your driveway, his heart skips. 

Had you left to go back to school early? Without saying goodbye? Were you just out? Maybe you had just gone to the grocery store?

As he parks the van, he snatches the sheet up and takes his time getting in the house. He glances back at your place a couple times, failing to see any signs of life through the slightly drawn open windows. His mind was spinning with all the possibilities, all of them equally making him spiral. He places his test down his record player, swipes up his rolling tray and starts to get as high as he possibly could. He would check your driveway practically every fice seconds, willing you to appear, but after an hour, he ashes out a joint and lays back on his bed, defeated.

-

You pulled into your driveway, noticing Eddie’s van haphazardly parked in his driveway. You were tempted to pull in front of his house and knock on his front door to ask how the test went, but you were up all night getting drunk and wallowing. A fight with your mother really took everything out of you and you had next-to-no energy. 

You waste no time getting inside and throwing on your comfiest pajamas. You cuddle up in your bed, soaking up the quietness of your trailer as you have it completely to yourself tonight. Sleep eventually finds you after a bit, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. You take your time getting up, wandering through the house to the front door. On your way there, you stop and grab the half drunk wine glass on the counter. You had left your current self a little gift last night, it seems.

You get to the front door, slamming the wine before you turn the handle. As you open it, you see his curls first. You wipe the dribble of red liquid away from the side of your mouth, puckering your lips. 

“Hey,” You say simply, trying to hide the wine glass behind your back. He knew you drank, but you did not want to look completely disheveled in his presence. You already had bed head. “Hey, uh… I passed,” Eddie mutters, his hands gripping onto his test sheet. He holds it up, a small smile expanding across his face, “I got a B on my final, so… I’m on track to graduate this year.”

He looks nervous, but your heart jumps in excitement for him. This is the best news you have heard all day. You put the wine glass down on the wooden entry table and fly out the door. You wrap your arms around his neck, jumping up and down as you congratulate him. “That’s awesome, Eddie!”

His hand gently graces your waist, shifting your oversized t-shirt up a bit, revealing that there are shorts underneath. You hear a small chuckle escape his throat, almost reflecting some sort of relief. 

You really knew how to make him feel special, practically throwing yourself at him. “All thanks to you,” He whispers as you pull away from his grasp. You still have your hand on his neck, pressing your fingers into the collar of his jean vest. “Oh please…” You shift back, dropping your arm to your side. You giggle, watching him crumble the test paper and stuff it into his pocket. You move back a step, “I’m happy though. Truly. You earned it.”

There’s a pause between you two, both just staring at one another. You want him to say something back, unsure if your celebration was a bit too much. His face drops as if he’s remembering something. He digs in his jean’s pocket, hissing as he searches for something. He pulls out a small joint, the rings on his fingers sparkling in the sun’s rays. The sun is finally going down, shadowing a golden hue over Forest Lawn. “I uh.. Have a celebratory joint.. Do you want to smoke?”

Your smile gives away your answer. You push your elbow into the door, opening it wider for Eddie. Having the whole place to yourself would serve you some good tonight, but Eddie was not much of a bother. Plus, free weed.

“Yeah, I actually have the house to myself, if you want to hang here?”

His eyes light up, surprised that you are allowing him in your space, “Are you sure?”

You nod, gesturing him to join you inside, “Yeah, it’s cool. Mom’s working overnight, sister’s at Max’s.”

“Sure, yeah.”

-

Initially you decide to just hangout in the living room, but then you realize your mother would somehow smell the remnants of marijuana, so you offer Eddie the space of your room. He nods timidly, walking behind you through the kitchen. On your way through, you grab the already half drank wine bottle and walk to the end of the hallway. You push open your door, showing off your messy and cluttered room to Eddie.

“My room’s a mess, just a warning.”

You crack open the nearest window, before settling on your bed. Eddie stands there, taking in your room and art pieces. Stacked canvases take up most of the floor space, as well as a peeling easel. You pat your unmade bed, trying to get him to sit. He toes off his sneakers and plops down on your full-sized bed. 

He places the joint between his lips, something you hyperfixate on for a moment. Watching his mouth wrap around something so small makes you pause. His perfectly symmetrical pink lips were something that caught your attention often. 

You uncork your wine as he flicks his lighter and pulls some smoke. 

“You are gonna smoke, too, right,” He asks, handing over the rolled weed. You take a swig of the bottle, letting the cheap alcohol slide down your throat. 

You gesture him the bottle, offering him some of your own vice. He’s a guest, after all. “Yeah, I am. Want some?”

He shakes his head, scrunching his nose at the idea of drinking. “Not a wine guy. Thanks, though.”

You two sit there in a comfortable silence, passing the joint back and forth. When you feel enough of a buzz throughout your body, you stand up and decide to show off your newest pieces. 

You had never been one to show off your work. You did not mind if people looked or admired, but you’d rather not be in the room when it was happening. You were more afraid of failure, which to you, was someone not liking your work. Criticism. Such a scary thought. 

You grab a painting you created of the woods at the entrance of Forest Hills, a densely packed row of trees with the sun only slightly beaming through some breaks in the leaves. It took you a week to complete it, having spent most of your free time in the evenings with Eddie. 

You turn the canvas over with one hand as you grip your wine bottle at the same time. Eddie shifts on your bed, laying on his side and propping his body weight up on his elbow. 

The moment his eyes find the canvas, his jaw drops.

“Holy shit, sweetheart. That is incredible,” He sits up on his butt, his dark curls shifting around his shoulders as he does. “You could fill an entire museum with the amount of canvases in here.”

You beam at his words, a sense of unnerving weight that you carry around, suddenly lifting off your shoulders. You felt pride swirl in your stomach, watching him stand and approach one older stack of paintings. 

You place the piece of art down, feeling the tackiness of the clear coat on your fingertips. 

“That’s the dream, one day.”

He shifts some watercolors you did around, staring at them with the joint between his lips. He looks so focused and enamored with your work. It’s endearing seeing him able to admire art after dealing with him for weeks just poking fun at it. “Oh, you’ll get there,” he states with confidence, the bud wiggling between his teeth with his words. He takes it out of his mouth, finally looking back over to you. The rush of heat to your cheeks could be attributed to the alcohol, but he is sure it is because of his praise. “You’re incredible.”

And you can tell he means it. What you don’t know is he means it in every sense. Your artistic ability is just the tip of the iceberg. 

He swallows, letting the tension rise a bit as you muster up the courage to step closer to him. The joint is burnt out, now just a roach between his fingers. You place the almost empty wine bottle on your desk, practically invading Eddie’s space as you step one foot closer.

The weed has loosened him up a bit. His body feels weightless and his mouth is one of the muscles that has relaxed with the rest of his limbs.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers, looking down at you with a lopsided grin. The moment is reminiscent of the first time he told you that, but the energy in the room is more charged than last time. 

The whites of his eyes are red, his lids drooping a bit more. You can feel the heat flush your cheeks as his gaze falls down over your face and to your lips. 

“Thanks, Eds,” your voice not crawling over a whisper. This time when you acknowledge his compliment, he does not backpedal. His eyes don’t stray away, nervously finding a way to bring up a new conversation. No, this time, he’s confident and sure fire about telling you how he felt. 

He had been holding onto it for so long, and soon, you would be back at school. He knew your mind would stray to other places, other things, other guys. And he knew he would not be able to live with himself if he did not express his feelings for you. 

“Truly, I mean it,” He mutters, shifting on his other leg. You can tell by the way he’s fiddling with his rings, he is nervous. The only thing you can think of is his lips, especially when he licks them, “You are… probably the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

The statement catches you off guard at first. Maybe it’s the alcohol distorting your confidence, or maybe it’s the nerves of him getting an inch closer. You clear your throat, finally darting your eyes away from his mouth. “You are high.”

A smile spreads across his face which warms your skin, prickling tiny bumps scattering down your arms. “And right,” He emphasizes, placing the roach down by your wine bottle. Instead of putting his arm down, his hand inches towards the curve of your cheek. There’s a glint in his eye, something hinting at you to lean towards him. And you do. “You don’t think you’re beautiful?”

Your eyes flicker away, your vision falling onto your bedroom door. You had hung up a mirror there when you were 12 and became hyper aware of your appearance. Your mom was very good at making you feel inferior, so you would spend hours sitting on your bed and staring into your mirror with contempt. You had learned how to love yourself a bit more since you were not living at home, but coming back has only reminded you of all the things you hate about yourself. But the characteristics you did like about yourself seemed to shine a bit more as you stood next to Eddie.

“I think I have pretty traits,” You muster up, looking away from your own reflection. Eddie does not accept that. The moment your head snaps back in his direction, his fingers drifting down to your jawline, “No, baby, you are the whole package. Not just a couple things. You’re perfect.”

Perfect. You had never been appreciated by any guy like this. You did not know Eddie had it in him.

“Eddie, you’re just saying that-” He somehow forces you to look in his eyes. He levels with you, his eyes looking serious and bloodshot, “I’m truly not just saying it to say it. I… I have thought like this since like 8th grade, sweetheart.”

It feels like all the air has been pushed out of your chest. You choke out two words, “You what?”

And then Eddie cannot help himself. It’s like he had been gearing up his entire life for this moment. He just needed the push. And the way you are looking at him right now is enough for him. 

“The moment I realized I was completely beside myself into you was when you pushed that girl on the school bus for saying I was a freak for having longer hair. You literally pushed her into the aisle and stepped over her to get off the bus with me. I knew then I was a goner. You were all I could see.”

The day is so vivid in your mind. You even remember the t-shirt you were wearing that day. It was a memory that stuck with you, too. You did not realize you had made such an impact on him. It’s endearing to know he thought about you in that way. Endearing and… reassuring?

You try to break the tension, clearing your throat, “Well, she was being a bitch.” But he does not laugh, he just stares down at you. The rise and fall of his chest insinuates that he’s on the verge of panicking if you do not respond positively. “Yeah, she was.”

The silence eats away at you. The last part of his statement bounces around in your brain. 

“A goner?”

Your nose wiggles and Eddie cannot deny how much he just wants to lift you off your feet and ravish you in that moment. You did not know the effect you had on him just by changing your facial impression to something so disgustingly cute. But it was the way you shifted under his gaze, your hand trailing up to his side, toying with the hem of his raggedy band t-shirt.

He returns the touch, his other hand propping up on your waist. The warmth moves around to your lower back, pulling you closer to him. 

“Yes, princess. A goner.”

His eyes droop and his mouth stays ajar as you too creep closer and closer together. The energy is surging off the ways, striking you in the back and leaving goosebumps in their wake. His hand trails down to your neck, the coldness of his rings shocking your system further the moment they touch your collarbones.

You lick your lips, slowly. It’s enough to make Eddie groan.

“You still feel that way?”

He shakes his head, almost to say ‘duh’. “Abso-fuckin’-lutely. You sticking by me all summer and puttin’ up with me only confirmed that I am practically in love with you.”

Your heart could hammer out of your chest at any moment. You feel the chills only further drive your nerves. You shake your head, your hand now balling up his shirt. It’s almost like a threat. “I don’t believe you-” He cuts you off before you can continue. “Let me prove it to you.”

You watch his hands carefully drift down your chest, his fingers resting right on your breast bone. Your breath hitches and you slowly release the fabric between your fingers. You cannot help but trail your eyes back up to his lips, watching him teasingly lick them before leaning in further to you. 

His pupils are huge and you are almost positive it’s because of the weed. 

But it is not just that. Your scent alone is enough to make his cock swell in his tight black jeans. You have yet to notice, but once you do, Eddie knows his cheeks will go bright red. 

The smell of weed is slowly being pulled out of your room by the crisp evening air pouring in from your window. It brings in a chill that has you shifting closer to feel his hot breath on your face. He is suddenly your heat source. 

His head cowers down, his wet lips pressing hesitantly against your jaw. Your voice quivers as he drags his lips all the way to your chin. Your lips are so close, he could just press them together. But somehow that seems more intimate. 

“Is this okay?” He ponders, millimeters from your mouth. You swallow back a hasty hum. 

“Mhm.”

You were never shy of making the first move in situations like this, but your body has completely locked up. You are at his mercy and you are almost positive you would let him do anything to you right now. 

His hands move quickly, sliding down your curves and committing them to memory. 

You just close your eyes and wait. You feel it coming and seeing him get closer is going to send your heart beating out of your chest. When his lips finally grace yours, you two move slowly. Dragging out each movement, tongues slowly slipping past teeth. 

Your brain draws a blank for a beat, not fully digesting the fact that you are kissing him. After weeks of getting high with him, teaching him about a subject you're passionate about, and that slight tension in the air. Especially after he first called you beautiful. That night you went home and tossed and turned in your bed. 

Now he’s gently backing you up to the edge of the mattress, causing you to drop onto your bed with a bounce. He does not waste any time, connecting lips again and giggling as you lay on your back. 

Eddie cannot believe you are below him, so willing to do something like this with him. The moment he starts to get in his head about it, he slowly pulls away from you, almost not to alarm you in any way. 

But the way you look at him. He feels this pull in his chest, like a gravitational drift back to you. He hovers above you, eyes searching your face. 

“God, you couldn’t get any more perfect.”

The heat returns to your entire body. “Stop.”

“Never, sweetheart.”

It seems like he’s going back in for another kiss, but instead he’s pressing his lips against your cheeks. You cannot help the smile that takes over your face. Your hands find a good spot, raking your nails gently through his scalp. The groans that escape him send pulsating need to your core. 

The moment you wrap your leg around his, it’s like a signal for him to further his exploration. His mouth drags across your skin, leaving his saliva in its wake. When he stops at the base of your throat, your hips jolt forward. You feel his jeans straining to keep his cock in one spot.

“More,” You mewl, your shorts riding up with your t-shirt, revealing your thighs and hips to him. He cannot help the strangled chuckling that comes out when you start to beg for him. As if he could not get any harder. 

“More, huh?” His digits spread out, dragging up your oversized shirt and kneading your flesh. The motion has you grinding against his leg even more. He’s dragging it out and it’s so painful. You wish he would just rip the bandaid off and completely unravel you. 

He spares you the pleading and pushes up the fabric to reveal your bare chest. You had not planned to have guests and to be quite frank, you completely forgot you had no bra on. You thought he would have to fumble around to get the full display. He puts his weight on his one knee, admiring you for a moment. You get a bit nervous when he pulls away, only to quickly realize he’s brushing his hair up into a bun.

It gives you a better look at the beautiful smile on his face and his lust blown brown eyes. 

“Can’t let the hair get in the way of all the things I’m about to do to you,” He admits, pecking you over and over again until you are laughing. “I can’t believe we are doing this.”

“I can,” You quip up, watching him unhinge his jaw right above your right nipple, “I see the way you look at me.”

Eddie shakes his head, his stubble brushing your flesh. His giggles subsiding the moment his lips wrap around your areola. You knew you were sensitive but you never felt so overstimulated in your life. The way his hands feel scooping your flesh. The way he is practically trying to fit your entire tit in his mouth. His guttural groans bouncing off your walls and canvases. 

He consumes every one of your senses. 

“Been dying to see you like this. You have the prettiest titties I’ve ever seen,” His voice is so gravelly and dripping with desire. Eddie needs to break the tension in his jeans, so while you are slipping your shirt off entirely, he pops the button on his pants. The zipper practically unfastens itself when he presses into you again, ravishing every inch of your chest. One hand on your waist, the other kneading your boob, all the while your hips are gyrating against his thigh. 

“Need more of you, Eds,” You plead, hoping to whatever god existed that he would litter your floor with all of his clothes. You watch him free his hand from fondling you to pull his t-shirt off from the collar, only briefly coming up for air from feasting on your chest. “Take off my shorts.”

The moment you say that, his eyes bore into yours. “You sure?”

“Eddie,” You press, pushing stray hairs away from his face, “I need you so bad, I may explode.”

“Jesus, say that again.”

You cannot help but scoff, your reaction making your boobs jiggle in front of his face. You lean up to his level, pressing a long drawn out kiss to his neck before bringing your lips to his earlobe, “I need you. So bad.”

The animalistic groan that leaves his throat even takes him by surprise. He stands up, grabbing the waistband of your shorts and practically ripping them in half. You squeak, adjusting how your panties sit on your hips. 

“Listen here, pretty girl, I am going to eat your pussy until you cum at least two times. And I’m gonna take my time. Then, if I don’t cum from doing that alone, I’m filling you up and fucking you exactly how I’ve wanted to for the last… I don’t know how many years.”

His game plan makes your stomach do gymnastics. His confidence in his words is simply derived from his primal need to please you. 

Sure, he wants to get his rocks off, but he could live the rest of his days with blue balls, if it meant seeing you cum all over his mouth over and over again.

The creak of the bed makes Eddie giggle. You have had this bed since you were 11, it has seen better days. 

He positions himself on his stomach, throwing your legs over his shoulder. Your panties were perfectly disguising the wetness that’s been pooling since Eddie started touching you. It was the only article of clothing left on your body. You want to feel insecure, but all of Eddie’s reassuring words wash over you. He sucks in a deep inhale, taking in your essence. 

“Can I take these off?” He tuts, pressing his fingers perfectly between your fabric-covered folds. The pressure is almost enough to send you over the edge. The craving you have for him is borderline embarrassing.

“Please,” You whimper, shifting your hips a bit trying to feel any friction you can. He pulls his fingers away, lacing them around the hem of your blue panties. Instead of locking his eyes on your glistening core, his gaze follows the panties being pulled from your legs. Once they are discarded, he presses wet kisses against the inner part of your legs.

“You look like a dream, all spread out for me,” He admits, his face now hovering over your core, “You know I dreamt this before?” 

He had. Countless times. Last summer when he watched you pack up your car for college, you were wearing these dangerously short daisy dukes and he stroked his cock about it for two months straight. Late at night, when he needed a release, he thought of you. He did not get much actual action in his day-to-day life, so his mind was consumed by his soul shattering crush on you.

“Eddie, I need you to do something.”

He ignores your pleas, dragging his lips across the skin right above your slit. He slowly drifts down, running his tongue through your folds, tasting every bit of you. 

“Just me having my face buried between your thighs,” He slaps them gently before digging his nails into the meat of your thighs. “God, these thighs… just so perfect.”

You jut your hips down, practically forcing his mouth on you. As much as you loved his dirty talk, you needed action. “Eddie.”

He chuckles, pulling his arm from underneath you. He takes his own fingers in his mouth, lacing his own spit between his digits, “You are so pretty when you say my name, baby. You want me to touch this beautiful pussy, hm? She’s just leaking for me, huh?”

You grit your teeth, watching him spread your pussy lips apart and drag his fingers all along your weeping hole. “I swear to God-” “I’m gonna fuck you with my tongue, don’t worry baby,” He pushes your thighs open wider, “Just painting my own little picture first.”

Truth be told, he was trying to drag this out so he could commit everything to memory. You would be leaving for school again soon, so who knows if this will ever happen again?

In your head, with the way he’s treating your body like a canvas in the finest art museum in New York City, he would be packed in your suitcase and dragged back to school with you. You needed this, always. 

You are pulled out of your thoughts when his mouth returns to your pussy, his tongue vibrating against your swollen clit. His fingers make work at fucking your hole, all the while his loose-lips occupy themselves making you feel good. Sure, you got head by guys before, but Eddie creates a whole different category in your brain. Maybe it is because you liked him so much and your body moved in sync with his. You were consumed by his very being.

His hips grind against his underwear and your bed sheets with every movement of his mouth. As he’s dragging your first orgasm out of you, he completely halts his lower body before he’s cumming in his jeans watching your body jolt forward and thighs clench around his ears. The sounds that pour out of you is music to his ears. Just enough to send him so close to the edge. 

The mixture of your cum and his saliva on his lips is something you wish to harness in a painting one day. His loose curls falling around his profile as his tongue sweeps across his lips to gather everything onto his taste buds. 

“God, this pussy is heaven. Fuckin’ divine.” He rubs his fingers up and down your slit, giving it a quick swat before he peppers some kitten licks across your already sensitive clit. 

“You are so good at that, my God,” You breathe out, your hands raking down the sides of your body, meeting his right hand on your thigh.

“Yeah?” he giggles, shifting up onto his elbows to get a better view of your body from above, “I really want to make you cum again.”

You don’t hide how desperate you are, “Can you just fuck me already?”

He laughs even harder, crawling up onto your lower stomach. He kisses right below your belly button, “Can I be honest?”

“No, I want you to lie to me,” You joke, your nails drifting around his forearm. His eyebrows raise, questioning your response silently. You roll your eyes, swatting him, “Yes, of course.”

“If I fuck you right now, I will cum almost immediately,” He admits, his voice gravelly. 

“Well, we can go another round if you do.”

It’s like all the air leaves his lungs when you say that. He did not expect you to want to do this again. As much as he wanted to, he did not truly know where your mind was. You just drove the nail right into the coffin. 

He pulls himself further up your body, his hand shifting to cup your mound as his mouth latched on your nipple. Your body instantly reacts to him, practically holding onto him for dear life, moaning his name like it was the only word you knew.

“Fine, I’ll fuck you now,” He mocks, dragging his lower lip up to your neck, “Since you’re just begging.”

You scoff, your hands finally reaching the waist of his jeans and yanking them down with his boxers. You would ignore the fact that he’s wearing Batman boxers. It was fitting, but also hilarious. You are more focused on the fact that he was huge. 

Definitely the biggest you’ve ever held in your hand. 

He looks between your bodies, smiling at the way your hand cradles his length. “Are you sure I’m not dreaming right now?”

This only happened in his dreams. It was about to consume your dreams, too, when you were done.

“All real,” You say, languidly pumping him, “I’m not sure how you’re gonna make it fit.”

You are feeding his ego. You knew that. 

You are one of the prettiest girls to come out of Hawkins and you are saying he’s too big. He’s never going to shut up to Gareth and the guys about it. With your permission of course.

“Don’t you worry about that, princess. I’ll make sure it fits.”

He shifts onto his knees, propping your knees up on his waist. You gawk at it for a moment longer. His tip is glistening with precum, which only adds to the silkiness of it's appearance. You also have the perfect angle to feel up his chest, touching each of his tattoos with your pointer finger, as if to map each of them out. You offer a cheeky grin as he appreciates the swell of your breasts. 

“Do you need me to get a condom?” He whispers, his cock probing at your inner thigh. 

“I’m on the pill. And I’m… I haven’t slept with any guys without one.”

His jaw drops a bit, “And you are okay with me going in raw?”

You are not sure why you are so sure about Eddie, but you just are. All of this felt just right. 

“Yeah. Only if you want to.”

Air escapes his nose dramatically as he uses his thumb to press down his shaft closer to your weeping hole. “Have I mentioned that you are perfect?”

“A million times now.”

“Gonna make it a hundred million by the end of this,” He sinks closer to you, his dripping tip diving between your lips, “And a trillion more times after.”

He drags himself over you, propping himself up right beside your head. The stretch starts to get more intense the more he slides into you. It is not a bad feeling, just something you would have to adjust to. 

And he would have to adjust, too. The way your spongy walls squeeze him is so overwhelming, before he’s half way in, he twitches. “You’re squeezing me so good.”

“I’ll try to relax,” You manage, the quick snap forward he does taking you off guard, “Fuck, Eddie!”

“I’m sorry! I-” He tries to explain, but you shut him up by propping yourself up to meet his lips. He stills inside you, filling you to the brim but not moving. You were eager to shut him up before he made things awkward, because they simply did not need to be. He felt incredible. And with his lips slotted between yours, you feel as if you may have died and gone to heaven. You take his bottom lip between your teeth playfully as you pull away, eyes locked onto his, “Do it again.”

He experimentally pulls back, the lack of resistance as he fucks into you only possible because of how soaked you are. He repositions himself so he’s back on his knees, eyes locked on the way your pussy just sucks him in. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna last,” He reminds you, pushing himself in deeper. He throws his head back, staring at the ceiling for a bit. You cannot help but smirk at him, looking down as his hips snap to yours sluggishly. 

“Yeah? Pussy’s too good for you?” You pose, trying your very best to drive him even more insane. There was something about his eyes when he got all worked up. They become this deeper shade of brown that causes chills to spread over your arms. When he finally looks back at you, a cheshire grin spreading across his face, you knew you were in for it. 

He picks up his pace a bit, holding your upper thighs down. If he looks down at what’s happening below the waist, he will surely lose it. So instead, his almost carbon-black eyes bore into yours. With every moan and jolt against the bed, you are inching towards your own climax. “Yes, don’t stop. Don’t stop, please.”

His smile droops a bit, his teeth clenching as the pace he’s at is causing the headboard to slam against your wall, “Yeah? I want to hear you. Tell me how good it feels, sweetheart. You know how much I love hearing you talk.”

The words send you babbling. Your pussy is practically gushing around him, but your body has yet to explode. “You feel so fuckin’ good, Eddie. Why didn’t we do this sooner? Knew you’d treat me good. So fuckin’ good.”

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, baby. Gonna fuck you every day just to make it up to you. I promise,” He accidentally steals a glance at your messy cunt and his dick twitches, “Ah shit, fuck.”

He knows he’s a goner. The way you squeeze him when he says that makes him take action to put you out of your pleasurable misery. He presses his thumb against your practically pulsating clit. The mixture of his pistoning hips and his frantic fingers makes your orgasm slam into you like a freight train. You grab onto whatever is close and curl your fingers around it. It just happens to be his t-shirt and your bed comforter. 

With your mouth wide open, you keen endless curse words, trying your best not to alarm the nearby neighbors.

As your come down starts to soothe your buzzing nerves, Eddie’s hips still completely inside you. 

You had never seen him so ethereal. His curls wild, his brow furrowed in concentration, his pale stomach muscles tense, jaw slack. He was surely your next muse. 

“My god, princess,” He sighs, his body practically going limp over yours. 

His hair falls around your mouth and nose as his head rests perfectly between your boobs. The curls tickle your nostrils, causing you to blow out aggressively. 

“I love you, but please get your little hairs out of my nose,” You joke, pushing his hair down. The bun he put at the base of his head is practically completely undone, leaving his dark locks pooling all around you. 

While you are too focused on his hair, Eddie’s ears are ringing at the first half of the sentence. His head slowly shifts to look up at you, his eyes now that beautiful warm hue. “You love me?”

His voice is shaking, nervous over the possibility you did not mean to say that. But it was one of those things. Instinctual. You knew you did love Eddie, so those words leaving your mouth seemed natural. You felt no need to retract them. 

You nod, pushing some bangs away from his view, “Is that surprising? I don’t spend my precious summers with people I hate. I especially do not let them into my bedroom and let them look at all my paintings.”

The revelation is enough to make Eddie crawl up to your lips, pressing a chaste, eager kiss. His hand cradles your cheek as he pulls away, “I’m just that special.”

“You could say that.”

He laughs softly, “For the record, and I know we are keeping one, I love you, too.”

-

The goodbye always sucks. 

You did not love being home, but this trailer was truly all you knew. You secretly did not despise Hawkins. It was home. 

And now it was even more like home because it’s where Eddie was. So this goodbye is even worse than it was before. 

He pulls your last suitcase into your Ford, closing the hitch for you as you hug your sister goodbye at the door. You walk down your creaking steps, eyes glued to the way Eddie stands at the back of your car. You practically fall into his arms, squeezing him so tight that you swear he may just mold to your body. 

His hands do not want to leave your waist as his nose tucks into your neck. 

“I’ll come visit you in a few weeks, I promise,” He hums, kissing the spot right below your ear. A slight chill runs up your spine. You will never get sick of his kisses. You have gotten very familiar with them lately.

“And I’ll come to visit in October for that Battle of the Bands,” You say as you pull away to get a good look at his face. His sweet, blushing face. “I’ll join your hoard of groupies.”

He scoffs, shifting back as if he’s appalled, “Hoard? That’s a bit dramatic. We have like… maybe 2.”

You roll your eyes, pinching his bicep. “Yeah, me and that girl Jeff drags around.”

“Jennifer is his cousin.”

You shake your head, completely dumbfounded, “Even worse.”

He laughs dryly in his throat, “I think she has a crush on Gareth or something.”

From the few times you have hung out with his group of friends in the last two weeks of your summer vacation, you did not get that impression from the girl. She seems very into her cousin. 

“Right on,” You laugh, pulling him towards the driver’s side so you can get in, “Give me a grand kiss in front of the neighbors and let me go on my merry way.”

His hands lace around your back, groping your ass, “I’ll give ‘em an even better show if you want.”

You bring him down to your height, pressing a longing kiss to his lips. He deepens it, his groping now turning into him kneading your ass cheeks. You pull away the moment he does that, knowing your mom is probably watching from the kitchen window. 

“You are a devious one, Munson,” You snicker, weaving your way out of his arms and into your driver’s seat. You start the car, letting it warm up as Eddie leans his hands on the very top of the car doorframe. His entire body blocks out the blistering sunlight, his shadow casting over your eyes. 

“Yeah, maybe, but you love me.”

Your eyes flicker back up to him. God, you really did love him. 

He slants more towards you, placing one more kiss on your mouth. Your stomach starts to roll when it hits you that you will not get to see him for the next few weeks. It makes your chest tighten the more you thought about it. 

“I sure do.”

His nose crinkles, his eyes getting weepy, “I love you, too, sweetheart. Now, get on the road and call me sometime tonight? Let me know you made it safely?”

You lift your hand in a salute, “Of course, my art apprentice.”

np tags (love u guys and i gotta tag some of my fav eddie/steve writers): @mediocredreams @hockeyhughes @votel4dybird @minamoomoo @disabilitymissunderstood @the-unforgivenn @punkrockmlchael @keeryhours

[okwonyo]

ⓘ SIM JAEYUN ， WITH MY EYES CLOSED ！

🕷️ where JAKE SIM is nerd but not only.

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 ｡ fluff best friends to lovers getting together ◜ᴗ⁠◝⁠ kissing skinship femrea ❪ 1136 ❫ mwah to dani !

𝗥𝗘𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗚 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗔 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦

jake is late. he knows that, he knew that for a while.

the funniest part is that he is late to see you for the sole reason that he needed to go save you from a weird genetically modified gorilla. it isn’t the first time this happens: he is starting to think that you never look around you. from the weird green goblin two weeks ago to the gigantic gorilla today, he might start to think that you really want to be picked off the floor by the spider superhero.

today is different. when he was about to leave you earlier, after saving your life once again, you told him to wait. jake found himself with his head upside down, hanging on the balcony above your room’s window.

your face was close enough that he could see the blush on your face perfectly, “thank you,” you breathed. spiderman was too starstruck to notice that you were taking his mask half way off. his mind went blank when you cupped his face then his brain exploded when your lips touched his.

his dream came true— his first kiss being given by his best friend and crush since kindergarten. his weeb loosened when you pulled away. he would have fell flat on the floor if it wasn’t for his amazing reflex.

like an idiot, he stumbled over his words, thanking you for the kiss or whatever that was before leaving your sight.

he had to pass by his apartment to put his clothes back on. he didn’t look at the mirror, now he is sure his hair looks messy and his glasses are set straight.

he arrives at your apartment breathless, chest heaving and gripping into his backpack for dear life. he rests his head against the door after knocking, he did run all the way there after all.

he almost falls on you. who even opens their door so abruptly?

“you are late,” you deadpan.

jake rolls his eyes, setting himself straight again, “hello to you too, it’s very nice to—” he hisses when you beat his chest, before turning around and walking into the apartment. he frowns, “meanie.”

he closes the door behind him. he can’t help but drag his eyes over your figure and notice the change in your outfit since your encounter with spiderman earlier.

“you can put your stuffs in the living room, like usual,” you say, on your way the kitchen. when you are a bit too far you shout, “you know your way around already so make yourself at home!”

he sits on the far corner of the couch as if he is scared of being too close to you— even if he would actually love that.

he always looks around your living room like it’s the first time he came over when he could redraw every object that is in it from memory.

jake’s awkwardness remains for a while. with his eyes on his knees as he fidgets on his pants. you find it very much endearing. therefore, he may be one hour late but you can’t be mad at him for too long.

“why do you look like that?” you ask, setting the two bowls of popcorn on the table. you give jake a look that makes him blush.

he brings his hand to his hair immediately, “like what?”

you don’t answer, squinting your eyes at his face while you sit down, “wait,” you laugh. “did you ditch me to go make out with someone?”

“what?” through his thick glasses, he gawks at you

“you could have just told me you know,” he is a tad offended when you huff.

but jake, in all honesty, looks around, “w—what are you talking about?”

“oh, please, you have lipstick all over your mouth.”

he isn’t the type to put lipstick on nor the type to make out with someone and forget about that. for a minute, he has no idea of what you are talking about— barely even trusting your statement. forgetting that he isn’t just jake but also spiderman, who you kissed earlier today.

the realization seems to hit you both at the same time. when you press your lips against one another, tasting your cherry red lipstick, your gazes meet and grow wide.

you put your hand in front of your mouth in pure shock. your muffled, “oh my god,” makes jake extremely anxious.

“hey, hey,” jake gets up when you do. he reaches out for you although you step back everytime he gets closer, “listen, i can explain.”

how jake is always running late, the bruises that appears on his body from time to time, his shoulders getting broader all of sudden, his weirdly fast reflexes. everything adds up so perfectly.

jake’s heart sinks when you hide your face in embarrassment, although he finds it very cute. he takes you a while to process the information. jake being a superhero is already big enough but him knowing what your lips taste like is another.

“i’m sorry for earl—” he starts, feeling like he needs to stop the heavy silence. you stop him soon enough:

your face is red when you look at him again, “are you spiderman?”

he nods, “yes.”

you are so done for. jake was already a little too perfect before, but it’s all different now that he saves life. right when you decided to get over him, he had to reveal himself as the guy who saved you from death two times.

“i’m sorry for kissing you earlier.”

“it’s okay, i, um,” he looks away. “i liked it. a lot.”

oh. that may change everything.

you tilt your head to the side. “yeah?” he gulps.

he feels sweaty all of sudden. “y–yeah.”

“take off your glasses.”

he doesn’t have much time to do so before you cup your face with more fervor than you did last time. but your lips taste as good, even better now that you are so eager. it makes jake waek in the knees.

he walks stumbles backwards, unable to stand on his feet properly. with his fast reflex, he gets to swap your position while you fall on the couch, so he can be on top of you when the landing arrives.

he grips onto you waist, sighing into your mouth the more the kiss goes on. he is such a loud kisser; so whiny that your stomach aches in pleasure.

how he says your name and sound he makes when you deepen the kiss make you completely mad. you can tell he isn’t experienced by the way he lets you lead. but he is fast to learn how to twist your tongue, how to run his hands over you body.

“thank you for saving my life.” you whisper between kisses.

jake’s voice his hoarse when talks back, “any time.”

분지 ܃ honestly i have no idea of what this is ..

taglist ( open )

[sadmusicprincess]

bf! ni-ki headcanons ────୨ৎ────

sfw :

his love language is quality time, ni-ki absolutely LOVES cuddling up with you after a hard day, he will just walk over while you on the couch watching god knows what, and just lay on top of you, tuning into whatever show you were watching

he isn't very big on PDA but will do small hand holds or wrapping his arms around your waist. but when y'all are alone, he is a whole different person, constantly wanting hugs, kisses, massages.

he LOVES when you play with his hair or do his skincare. he will let you put any type of silly skincare headband on him and take pics as y'all do face masks together

ni-ki loves cracking jokes at ANY times. sometimes you have to give him a look during serious moments when he starts chuckling to himself.

ni-ki likes to say things to you in japanese despite you not understanding, he laughs at you when you try to repeat it and you beg him to tell you what he said.

nsfw :

ni-kis favorite position is cowgirl, he gets to see all of his girl while she's on top of him

ni-ki is a MUNCH, he will make you finish multiple times just with his tongue, he will sometimes even edge you by pulling away right when you are going to finish, laughing at you when you whine. he will eat you out like a starved man

he loves leaving hickies on your neck, showing everyone that you are his only. he will hide your makeup if you try to cover up the red and purple marks splattered across your neck and collarbones

he secretly loves manhandling you, not in a way to actually hurt you but sometimes if your legs start cramping, he will just flip you over and change the position to where you are both comfortable.

loves hearing your moans, they just get him going and he also is very vocal too. if you try to cover your mouth he will immediately pin ur hands down and hold them.