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hatethysinner · 1 day ago

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ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ x ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ!ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴍᴏᴅᴇʟ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: New York, 1970. You’ve come too far from Mississippi to be told no. Your agent, Remmick, calls you his masterpiece, and he’ll do anything to make the world see you the same. You don’t ask what it costs him, but every time the spotlight hits your skin, his eyes shine like it’s worth it.

ᴡᴄ: 22.5k (including cont'd)

ᴀ/ɴ: title taken directly from this incredible song. if there's any fanfic writer reading this, mix your settings up! it's so fun to go out of your comfort zone and just go batshit crazy with your ideas and that's exactly what i did. the fact that i had to split this into two posts makes me so mad like i promise i'm not interaction farming tumblr just can't handle the heat of 20k+ words. i've done grateful remmick, pathetic remmick, and now we've got obsessive remmick. collecting his archetypes like infinity stones 💋! as always, white girls i promise you can have your fun with this too. enjoy reading divas!

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: (including cont'd) SLOWburn, obsession, murder, vampirism, blood, bloodplay i think, praise kink, breeding kink, body worship, eye contact, biting, cunnilingus, very light dubcon, exhibitionism, p in v, monsterfucking, overstimulation, dacryphillia, cockwarming, the wildest possible time to have sex (you won't guess it), i'm sorry yall this shit is just freaky as fuck, overt affection from the start, fluff, a little domesticity never hurts, remmick being an unhinged control freak but in the least toxic way possible, reader did not prepare herself for ts, maybe a little angsty but that depends on your definition, codependency, power imbalance but it's never abused(?), religious undertones if you squint, depictions of racism, texturism, and microaggressions in the fashion industry, amateur knowledge of 1970s fashion and modeling (i was living on the devil wears prada and a prayer), excessive use of dividers, minor vampire rule changes for writing convenience

New York City, 1970.

The city shimmered in the distance like a mirage, flickering orange and gold against the horizon, then hardening into glass and steel as you drew closer. Manhattan rose from the ground like something alive, wild and bristling, all sirens and streetlamps and noise thick enough to taste. The car hummed low beneath you, headlights slicing through the last stretch of night. You leaned against the window, forehead pressed to the cool glass, watching the skyline appear piece by piece like it was being conjured just for you.

It had been a long drive. A strange one. Not quick, not smooth. Over twenty-four hours, maybe more. Time bled at the edges when you were with Remmick.

He wouldn’t drive during the day. Not once. Every time the sky began to lighten, he’d pull off the road. Into a gas station, a motel lot, once even behind an abandoned diner where the air smelled like rust and pine needles, and he’d wait. In silence. Crouched low in the driver’s seat, sunglasses on even in the dark. You’d offered to take the wheel more than once, half-joking, half-worried, but he’d only chuckled and said, "Ain’t no use rushin’. Best things bloom slow, darlin’. Let the night do her part."

The highways felt endless. Flat fields, flickering street signs, the quiet rhythm of tires against asphalt. You dozed in and out, lulled by his steady driving and the scratch of his thumb against his lighter. He didn’t play the radio. He didn’t sing. Sometimes he talked to himself, voice low and rhythmic like a sermon, words you couldn’t quite catch. Other times, he said your name like it was the only thing worth saying.

And then: the city.

He pulled the car to the curb, the engine softening into silence. You blinked up at the brownstone. Tall and narrow, made of worn red brick with black trim and a wrought-iron gate that looked older than both of you. The street around it was quiet, lit by just a few streetlamps buzzing with moths. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was nice. Too nice, as if it'd been detailed just minutes before you arrived. Clean front stoop. Big bay window. Flower boxes under the sills.

You frowned. “This yours?”

Remmick stepped out of the car, rounded the hood, and opened your door with a little bow. “Ours,” he said simply, like that explained everything.

You stood slowly, stretching your spine after hours curled in the seat. The New York air was colder than Mississippi. Sharper. The kind that cut clean and left you blinking. You looked up at the brownstone again. It had to be expensive. The kind of place a real agent might have. The kind of place someone powerful stayed, not someone who drifted into a backwoods general store and offered to make you a star.

But he just smiled. Like he already knew what you were thinking.

“Ain’t much yet,” he said, his voice low, accent thick and lazy and true. “But it’s the start. From here on out, we climb.”

You stared at him. Your so-called agent, your midnight stranger, the man who found you counting change behind the counter of your uncle’s store in Mississippi, under flickering fluorescents and a ceiling fan that squealed with every turn.

You hadn’t been looking to be found.

You hadn’t even meant to speak to him.

He’d come in just before closing, tall and tired-looking, dressed like he didn’t belong. Black turtleneck, coat that didn’t suit the heat, and those eyes. Blue, yes, but something off about them. Ancient. Red flashed in his pupils if the light hit just right, like a warning. You caught yourself staring too long.

Then he said it. “You ever thought about modeling, sweetheart?”

You laughed in his face.

He didn’t leave.

He came back the next night. And the one after that.

He didn’t try to touch you. Didn’t leer or flirt. Just leaned on the counter and looked at you like you were already on the cover of Vogue or Life. Like he was just waiting for the world to catch up.

“You’re a fuckin’ star,” he said again and again. “You don’t see it, but I do.”

Now here you were.

He carried your suitcase without asking, easy like it weighed nothing, and led you up the narrow staircase. Inside, the apartment smelled faintly of lavender and old books. The walls were clean, freshly painted, but the baseboards and window frames still bore signs of age. The floors creaked under your feet, polished wood catching the light. The front room had a velvet couch in a deep wine color, a small but elegant fireplace, and shelves that already held a few books. Some old, some new, all carefully arranged.

There was a vase on the windowsill. Empty, waiting.

It wasn’t just an apartment. It felt like someone had made space for you here.

You dropped your bag near the door and looked around slowly, jaw slack with disbelief.

“You… really live like this?”

Remmick leaned against the doorframe, his shirt collar open just enough to reveal the top of his pale chest. That red glint shimmered faintly behind his tired blue eyes, not threatening, just… different. Other. He didn’t hide it. You didn’t want him to.

He grinned, showing the faint edge of his canines. Too sharp to be human, too familiar to scare you. “I told you, didn’t I?” he said softly. “You’re gonna be a fuckin’ star.”

You stepped toward him, unsure if you meant to laugh or cry. “And this is part of that?”

He nodded once, serious now. “You deserve a place to start from. A place that ain’t tryin’ to drag you back down. I meant it when I said I’d take care of you.”

And in his voice, you heard it again. That vow he’d made in a gas station parking lot under moth-covered lights. That strange devotion that didn’t ask for anything in return.

You looked around one last time, then back at him.

“So what now?”

He stepped into the room, slow and certain, like he’d been waiting years for this moment.

“Now,” he said, brushing a stray curl from your face, “we get to work.”

You very quickly learned the situation you’d gotten yourself into.

It wasn’t subtle. There were no illusions of partnership or shared footing. You weren’t splitting rent, trading favors, or learning the city together like other girls who moved north with dreams and no real plan. No, you were being kept. Thoroughly, obsessively, deliberately kept.

It started small. You mentioned your shoes were falling apart. The next morning, a pair of Ferragamos appeared beside the bed. You half-joked about not owning a proper winter coat, and he was gone for twenty minutes, then returned with three. Leather. Wool. Something French you couldn’t pronounce, still with the tag attached.

The closet filled before you realized what was happening. It started with a rack of dresses, mostly black, some red, some blue, a few greens and golds, all tailored like they knew your body before you’d ever tried them on. Then came the heels. Then the jewelry. Not flashy, but real. Real enough to catch light. Real enough to turn heads.

You didn’t ask for it. Sometimes, you weren’t even sure you wanted it.

But he noticed everything.

You lingered a second too long looking at a photo in a magazine, the jacket the model wore, the earrings that matched her lipstick, and the next day, something damn near identical was folded neatly at the foot of the bed.

“Remmick, I don’t need-”

“Didn’t ask what you need, darlin’,” he’d say, brushing past you with a cigarette tucked behind his ear. “I asked what you want.”

He never lit that cigarette inside. Not even once. Wouldn’t so much as hold a lighter within ten feet of you. He’d smoke out on the stoop or disappear to the far end of the street, muttering something about “not stinkin’ up the air you breathe.” The first time you joked about wanting one yourself, just to see what the fuss was about, he looked at you like you’d cursed, warning “not with a smile like yours, not a chance.”

It wasn’t just the clothes.

You ran out of conditioner once. Just once. The bottle was still in the trash when you stepped out of the shower and found five new ones lined up on the bathroom sink. Different brands, all familiar, all from back home. Stuff you didn’t even think they sold up north. He’d stocked them like he’d raided a beauty supply store in Jackson and brought the entire aisle to you.

When you tried to thank him, he shook his head and looked at you like you’d insulted him.

“Don’t need thanks,” he murmured, turning the sink knobs absently, like making sure the water still ran. “Don’t want it neither. Just want you ready. Prepared. You look the part, they treat you like the part.”

That was the other thing. He never wavered.

You could be barefaced and groggy, hair wrapped, in slippers and one of his oversized shirts, and he’d still say it: “You’re the most beautiful thing in this city.”

Always with that voice, like gravel and honey, and always with that look. Like he was memorizing you for when you weren’t there.

He refused to let you carry groceries. Refused to let you pay at restaurants, even diners. The one time you tried, fumbling for your wallet while he was in the bathroom, he damn near lost it. Quietly, of course. Never loud. Never unkind. But the look on his face when he stepped out and saw you holding your purse?

He took your wrist gently and leaned in close. “You ain’t got to do that, darlin’. You never will.”

And you believed him.

Because Remmick didn’t make promises lightly.

He’d booked your first photoshoot before your second night in the city. He knew a guy who knew a guy. Shady as hell, probably, but the studio was real, the lighting was good, and the photographer never once looked at you sideways. You didn’t have a portfolio yet, didn’t know how to pose, but Remmick stood just out of frame, nodding, giving you small, soft corrections. Not criticism. Just reminders.

“Chin up. Eyes sharper. That’s it, darlin’. Just like that.”

He was everywhere. In the corner of the room, watching. Waiting. Always watching.

You got used to it. Maybe too fast. Maybe too easy.

But something about his presence didn’t unnerve you. It calmed you. Like if anything went wrong, if anyone tried anything, he’d handle it before you even knew to be afraid.

The girls you passed on the sidewalk in Harlem, downtown, SoHo, they looked at you with curiosity. Some with admiration, others with judgment. You didn’t blame them. You were the new face, the quiet one with an older man who opened every door and paid every bill and looked at you like you were something exquisite and holy.

And you noticed him too.

The way he never ate. The way his canines always looked a little too sharp when he smiled too wide. The way his eyes gleamed red sometimes when the light dipped low.

You weren’t stupid.

You weren’t scared either.

Because when he looked at you, it wasn’t hunger. It was worship.

Like he’d waited lifetimes for you. Like now that he had you, there wasn’t a single thing on this earth. living or dead. he wouldn’t rip apart to keep you standing.

And the strangest part?

You were starting to believe it.

You still didn’t know what exactly he was. He hadn’t told you, not directly. But there were nights when the city seemed to go still around him, when your reflection in the apartment window looked younger than it had the day before, when he came back from “errands” with dirt on his sleeves and a strange, metallic smell clinging to his coat.

You didn’t ask.

You just watched him move through your life like a secret you didn’t want solved.

And when he knelt in front of your vanity, helping you fasten the strap of your heels, he looked up at you like you were the moon.

“Whatever you want, darlin’,” he said. “All you ever gotta do is ask.”

And you believed him. Again.

The proofs arrived in a thick envelope, crisp and neatly stacked, smelling like ink and developer fluid. Remmick slit it open with his finger, careful not to smudge the edges, then spread the photos out across the kitchen table like cards in a high-stakes hand.

You hovered nearby, still in your robe, coffee cooling untouched between your hands. He’d barely said a word all morning, just paced between windows and rearranged the chairs until the light hit the table just right. Now he sat, back straight, fingers laced under his chin like he was studying scripture.

“Alright,” he muttered, nodding to himself. “Let’s see what we’re workin’ with.”

He picked up the first photo, held it close to his face, then glanced at you with a small, stunned kind of smile.

“Goddamn, darlin’,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “Look at you. Look at those eyes. Like they know somethin’ nobody else does.”

Your lips twitched. “That good or bad?”

He flicked his eyes up. “That’s perfect.”

The next photo didn’t get the same reaction. He turned it sideways, then back, then let out a thoughtful little hum before setting it aside.

“Not that one?”

“Too wide on the lens. Warps the shoulder line.” He looked up again, serious now. “Ain’t you. That’s on the camera, not the subject.”

You sat across from him, watching the small pile of rejects begin to form at his elbow. But with each one he discarded, he gave an explanation. Real, technical, thorough.

“This one’s too soft. Focus is just off the eye, makes you look unsure.”

“Lighting’s dirty on this one. Sinks the skin tone. Not your fault, not on you.”

“Angle’s wrong here. Nose ain’t shaped like that, lens just thinks it knows better.”

He never let it seem like you’d done something wrong.

Even the ones he didn’t like, he lingered on first. Admired them. Complimented the tilt of your head, the curve of your mouth, the way you held your hands. He only tossed them aside if the frame failed you, if the shot wasn’t worthy.

“You’re not a problem to fix, darlin’,” he said at one point, tapping one of the keeper shots. “You’re a truth they gotta learn how to capture right.”

You were starting to understand how his mind worked. Not just as your agent, but as someone who genuinely couldn’t stand seeing the world misunderstand you. It mattered to him, deeply. Almost violently.

He ended up with four he liked. Four out of thirty.

“This one for the face,” he said, sliding the first forward. “No smile, just eyes. Says take me serious.”

The second: “This one shows the angles. That jaw? That neck? You’ll have girls tryin’ to grow bones like yours.”

The third: “Little softness. You look like someone’s dream here.”

And the last, his favorite, he didn’t explain. Just stared at it for a long while, thumb grazing the edge, eyes unreadable.

When you reached for it, he didn’t let go right away. Then he finally handed it over.

It was a shot of you mid-turn, hair caught in motion, dress pulling just slightly at the hip, your mouth parted like you’d been about to laugh.

You didn’t even remember posing like that.

“I love this one,” you said quietly.

“I know,” Remmick replied, watching you with something almost reverent in his face. “That’s why it works.”

You leaned your cheek into your hand, tracing the edge of the photo with your finger. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen myself like this before.”

“’Cause you haven’t had someone show you right. Not till now.”

He stood, collecting the rejected prints and sliding them back into the envelope. You watched him move. Graceful in that slow, deliberate way of his, like every motion was premeditated.

At the counter, he paused to straighten the stack of fashion magazines he’d brought home the night before, flipping through one until he found a dog-eared page. A model with your same cheekbones, but none of your soul.

“See that?” he asked, tilting it toward you. “They’ll chase this look ‘til they die tryin’, but you-” He tapped the table beside your photo. “You got it. Easy.”

He lingered a moment longer, then returned to the table, his thumb brushing a speck of dust from the corner of your favorite shot. You noticed his hands. Always busy, always precise. Even when they trembled a little, like they did now, like he was holding something too precious to mess up.

“Gonna send these four out by noon,” he said, tapping the chosen shots. “Couple magazines, two scouts. I’ll follow up by phone tomorrow.”

Your brow lifted. “That fast?”

He gave a small shrug, lips tugging into a lopsided grin. “You think I came all this way just to sit on my ass?” He leaned across the table, close enough for you to see the faint red gleam flicker at the edge of his irises. Subtle, quick. “Told you I’d make you a fuckin’ star. Didn’t say when. Just said I would.”

He leaned back in the chair, exhaling slowly, then looked at you with that soft, satisfied expression he wore whenever he thought you weren’t watching. “Put somethin’ nice on, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and warm. “I’m takin’ you out tonight. Gotta celebrate your first real shoot.”

The look in his eyes told you it wasn’t just about the pictures. It was about you. Everything was.

He didn’t call it a date. Wouldn’t even come close.

When you stepped out of the bedroom in one of the dresses he’d picked out days ago, red, silky, and cut to fit like it had been stitched directly onto you, he only gave a low whistle and said, “Now that’s how a star walks into a room.” Not you look beautiful. Not I can’t stop starin’ at you. But it was there in his face, plain as anything. The way he let his eyes trace you, slow and reverent, like he was seeing something sacred.

He held the door for you like always, one hand at the small of your back, guiding you toward the black town car idling at the curb. The engine was quiet, the driver already waiting. No one had told you where you were going, and Remmick didn’t say. He just tucked you into the backseat like you were made of porcelain and leaned close with a grin, his fingers grazing your bare shoulder.

“Big night,” he murmured, low and warm. “You should eat like it.”

You didn’t expect what came next. The restaurant didn’t have a name on the front. Just a narrow archway tucked between a boutique hotel and a shuttered tailor shop, with a single golden plaque bolted to the brick. You wouldn’t have noticed it at all if he hadn’t guided you up the steps like he belonged there.

The maître d’ recognized him instantly. “Right this way, sir,” he said without even asking for a name, and suddenly you were being led into the kind of place people waited months to get into. The dining room was dim and hushed, wrapped in warm light and the clink of expensive silverware. Velvet chairs, fresh flowers at every table, real wax candles instead of electric flickers. The sort of atmosphere where everyone whispered even when they didn’t have to, because they could.

You were seated in the center of it all, surrounded by couples in tailored suits and silk shawls, sparkling jewelry and moneyed quiet. The moment you sat down, you felt them. Eyes, subtle and sideways, glancing over menus and martinis to look at you. You were the only Black woman in the room. Probably the only one who’d been here in a while, if ever. Their stares weren’t loud, but they were there. Lingering. Curious. Unwelcome.

Remmick didn’t miss it.

His hand was already on the table, fingers brushing yours. “Hey,” he said, soft enough only you could hear. “They look ‘cause they don’t get it. ‘Cause you’re sittin’ there lookin’ like a fuckin’ dream, and they’re not used to seein’ somethin’ that real.”

You looked up at him, and he was already watching you, something dangerous and steady behind the softness in his voice. “Let ‘em stare. You belong right here, sweetheart. You belong everywhere.”

That was all he had to say. The weight of the room shifted. Not for them, for you. Like suddenly you were immune. Like the whispering walls of that restaurant had never held a woman like you before, but they were damn lucky to now.

He ordered for both of you, waving off the menu like he already knew what was good. “She’ll have the oysters and the saffron risotto,” he said with a smile that was somehow both charming and firm. “Bring us the champagne. The good kind.”

You laughed and asked how he even got a reservation. He just shrugged. “Told ‘em I had someone I needed to impress. They didn’t ask more’n that.”

The food came in careful courses, small and perfect, each bite richer than anything you’d ever tasted. He didn’t eat much, just pushed things around on his plate while watching you. Every time you made a face or hummed in surprise at the flavor, he looked like he was cataloging it, like he’d remember what you liked forever.

“Tell me which dish you want me to learn to cook,” he said at one point. “I’ll have the whole damn kitchen figured out by next week if you ask.”

You told him that wasn’t necessary, and he smiled. “That ain’t the point.”

Between courses, he kept the compliments coming. Not like a man trying to win favor, more like someone stunned into reverence. He said it like a fact, like gravity: you were stunning, and you should already be on magazine covers. “The cameras don’t even get it yet,” he said. “They ain’t caught what I see.”

Still, he never called it a date.

Even when his gaze lingered on your mouth for too long. Even when he wiped a smear of sauce from the corner of your lip with his thumb and let it stay there for a beat too long. Even when his voice went low again and he said, “We’ll remember this night. First of many, I promise you that.”

You smiled down at your plate, cheeks warm, heart louder than it had been all day. He watched you like you were the only one left in the world. Like he could feel the pull of it just as much as you could, but wouldn’t name it. Not yet.

Dessert was something ridiculous with gold leaf and dark chocolate, something you didn’t ask for but he somehow knew you’d love. When you took the first bite, he grinned wide and leaned back in his chair.

“A star and her agent,” he said. “That’s all this is.”

But his voice was thick, and his eyes didn’t leave yours, and when he reached out to adjust the strap of your dress where it slipped on your shoulder, his hand lingered, slow and possessive.

“And stars oughta be spoiled, don’t you think?”

You nodded, quiet, caught between the warmth of the food and the fizz of champagne and the impossible softness in his voice. He said nothing more, just sat there across from you like he’d already decided you were the best thing he’d ever done.

And maybe he had.

Watching Remmick work was your favorite pastime.

You curled your legs up beneath you on the couch, still wearing the oversized tee he’d laid out for you. Not one of yours, of course. Something soft and perfectly worn, smelling faintly of cedar and whatever cologne he only ever seemed to wear around the apartment. The plate on your lap was empty now, just crumbs and the last smear of blackberry preserves from the toast he’d made fresh that morning. No burnt edges. No crusts. The way you liked it.

He’d sat with you through the whole thing, elbows on the table, watching every bite like it fed him instead. When you asked if he was gonna eat too, he only smiled.

“I’ll grab somethin’ later. You go on.”

He never ate around you, not really. Said mornings weren’t his time. Said he didn’t like the taste of breakfast. Said he’d already had his coffee. A lie, probably, because you never once saw him make a cup. But he’d sat there all the same, chin in his hand, smiling at you like you were the sunrise itself.

Now he stood across the apartment, back to you, the long cord of the house phone stretched taut from the wall to where he leaned against the kitchen counter. His voice was calm but firm, syrupy in a way that meant he was negotiating. You could only hear his side, but it was enough to understand.

“...I know what I’m askin’, but you ain’t looked at her yet, Mary. Once you see her in front of you, you’ll understand-”

A long pause. The hand not gripping the phone gestured in frustration, but his voice didn’t budge.

“Yeah. I get that. But what I’m sayin’ is, she ain’t just a checkmark on a theme issue, alright? She’s talent. She’s the face. Whether that issue’s in January or June or never, she deserves ink. You know it.”

Your stomach tightened a little. He hadn’t said what magazine it was, not directly, but you’d caught the hint yesterday when he started listing off dream shots. Glamour, he’d said. Cosmopolitan. Vogue, if they bite, but Glamour’s got that open slot sooner. At the time, you’d thought he was dreaming big. Shooting for the stars to see what stuck.

Now, listening to him wrangle a gatekeeper with the kind of slick charm only he could wield, you realized he hadn’t just dreamed. He’d promised.

And he was fighting tooth and nail to deliver.

“Mmhm. Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure. I read it.” His voice thinned slightly, though he still sounded smooth. “Saw the whole spread. Good issue.”

A beat. You caught the flicker of his jaw tightening.

“Nah, I’m not sayin’ you shouldn’t have done it. Just sayin’ maybe you oughta take another look at your timing. Feels a little... seasonal. Like maybe you think color only matters once a year.”

Your eyebrows rose.

There was a longer pause now. You heard a faint tinny buzz from the other end of the line, though the words were too muffled to catch. Remmick didn’t speak. He just waited, staring out the tiny kitchen window at nothing. His fingers tapped the countertop, slow and even. You could feel it. The moment. That low boil of something restrained. Whatever she’d said next, it had hit a nerve.

Then finally, he spoke again.

“Listen, Mary. I’m not askin’ you to do her a favor. I’m offerin’ you a face your readers are gonna be grateful for. She’s got the look and the movement. She’s camera-trained and runway-ready, and she just got off a shoot with a photographer I know you’ve pulled from before. You want numbers? You’ll get numbers. All I need is fifteen minutes in front of your casting director.”

Another pause.

His eyes flicked to you.

You offered the smallest smile, and he smiled back. Just slightly, just enough to soften the line of his mouth. Then turned back to the phone.

“Perfect. Yeah. Tuesday’s good. Tell ‘em she’ll be there.”

He hung up with the kind of gentleness that didn’t match the fight you’d just heard in his voice. As if slamming the phone down would’ve undone the win. He stayed there a second longer, hand resting on the receiver, then turned toward you and ran a hand through his hair.

“Well,” he said, voice back to its usual slow drawl. “Hope you didn’t make other plans for Tuesday.”

He'd already made sure you didn't.

You blinked, throwing the first name that came to your mind out. “That was Glamour?”

He gave a short nod and crossed the room in two strides, crouching down in front of the couch. “That was me doin’ what I said I would. You’re in, sweetheart. Casting preview, ten a.m. I’ll walk you in myself.”

Your heart was thudding, too fast to hide. “Remmick... they said no at first, didn’t they?”

He didn’t lie. Didn’t pretend. Just shrugged. “Didn’t matter what they said at first. You got me. I make sure first ain’t never final.”

You looked at him, really looked. The way his blue eyes caught the light and shimmered red in the middle, something not quite right about them, something old and endless that had never scared you. Something that felt like fire behind glass. You’d never asked what he was, not out loud. But you knew.

And you knew whatever he was, it loved you. Or worshipped you. Or both.

“Remmick,” you said, quieter now. “What if it doesn’t go well?”

He reached up, thumb brushing just beneath your cheek. “Then I raise hell.”

You laughed, half from nerves and half from wonder. You’d come to this city with nothing but a suitcase, a dream, and a man who’d found you behind a dusty counter and said star like he already believed it. And now here you were. Toast crumbs on your lap, your agent on fire, and Tuesday morning shining in the near distance like something impossible.

You weren’t sure if you were ready.

But with Remmick at your side, it almost didn't matter.

Tuesday morning came earlier than you'd hoped, though you weren’t the one who set the alarm. Remmick had been up before the sun, half-dressed and humming under his breath in the next room while laying your outfit out across the back of the couch.

He’d picked it the night before, but apparently that hadn’t stopped him from fussing over it again in the morning. You heard the crisp flick of a lint roller, the brush of fingers smoothing seams, the rustle of tissue paper as he checked the shoes a third time.

When you finally dragged yourself out of bed, you found the kettle already whistling and the lights dimmed low, the way you liked them. Remmick was standing by the window, fingers pressed lightly to the frame, eyes flicking up toward the gray, dim sky like he expected it to turn on him.

You watched him for a moment, leaning against the doorframe in your feather-trimmed robe, half-curious, half-sleepy.

“You waitin’ on somethin’?” you asked.

He turned slightly, not startled, just aware. That quiet, humming attention he always gave you.

“Mm? No,” he said, too quickly. “Just checkin’ the weather. They were callin’ for sun earlier. Thought maybe it’d clear.”

You blinked. “And that’s bad?”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Only if you don’t want your hair frizzin’ before the cameras roll.”

You didn’t buy that, not fully, but you didn’t press. Especially not when you caught the way his shoulders dropped just a little with relief as he turned back toward the window and muttered, “Overcast’s good. Real good.”

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, all his focus was back on you.

“Went with the green. It’ll set off your skin like it’s already been retouched,” he said, running a hand over the fabric. “Open collar, mid-thigh hem. You’re showin’ just enough to make ‘em lean forward, not enough to make ‘em blink wrong. You’ll kill in it.”

He’d chosen your heels too. Pearlescent and soft. He bent to help buckle them before you could even sit down fully, kneeling in front of you like it was the most natural thing in the world. He looked up after the second one clicked into place.

He pulled you in front of the small mirror in the hallway, fingers brushing through your curls. Careful but firm, like he was memorizing every strand, every coil.

“You look damn beautiful like this,” he said quietly, his voice low enough that it felt like a secret meant only for you. “This hair? It’s got fire. It’s you. Ain’t no straightening iron gonna fix what’s already perfect.”

You watched his face, how his lips twitched into a rare smile, how his sharp canines flashed for a moment when he spoke. It was like he was showing you a piece of a world you hadn’t dared to claim yet.

“If they try to tell you to change it, you tell ’em exactly what I’m tellin’ you.” He leaned in, voice dropping lower, the kind of serious that makes you hold your breath. “If they don’t like this, they can choke on it.”

You couldn't help but laugh.

The walk to the Glamour offices wasn’t long, but he stretched it out like a runway. Kept looking you up and down with a quiet smile that made your stomach dip.

“You remember what to say if they ask about work history?”

“Freelance,” you said. “New Orleans, mostly. Catalogue stuff. A few showroom calls.”

“Good girl.” His hand found the small of your back. “And if they ask who’s representin’ you?”

“You.”

“Damn right.”

Every few steps, he’d stop to adjust your sleeve, or reposition your collar just slightly, or brush a speck of lint off your back like it was a threat. All the while, compliments rolled off him like breath.

“Walkin’ like you got six hundred cameras on you already.”

“No one else out here looks like you. That’s why they’re gonna remember.”

“God, darlin’, if they don’t pick you up after this, I’ll make a whole new magazine just to show ‘em what they missed.”

He meant it too. That was the thing.

When you reached the building, the receptionist barely had time to look up before Remmick had already introduced you both. “Ten o’clock, casting preview for senior editorial. We’re expected.”

He kept his hand low at your back as you were ushered toward the elevators, nodding politely but not waiting to be led. He knew the layout better than he should have. Knew exactly which floor. Which door. Which office.

You didn’t ask how.

Just like you didn’t ask how he managed the reservation for that dinner, or the money for the apartment, or the pull it must’ve taken to get a Tuesday meeting with Glamour on less than a week’s notice.

He stood with you right up to the waiting room. Talked you through every possible scenario. Repeated it all again. Not like he didn’t think you remembered, but like he needed to be sure. His hand curled around yours for a moment, thumb brushing your knuckles.

“You’re gonna go in there, and you’re gonna own it,” he said low. “Chin up. Shoulders back. They ain’t doin’ you a favor, darlin’. You’re the one bringin’ value.”

You smiled, even if your heart was loud in your ears. “You’re staying, right?”

“As long as they let me.”

The door cracked open then. A woman in a gray blazer stepped out and gave you a polite, clipped smile. “They’re ready for you.”

Remmick looked at her, then back at you.

“You got this,” he whispered, eyes catching the light like glass. “Go turn ‘em to mush.”

You stepped through the door with a deep breath, feeling him at your back even after it shut behind you.

The room wasn’t anything like you’d imagined. No flashbulbs. No velvet couches. Just white walls, a long table, and a row of people behind it. Only three today, though it felt like more.

The man in the middle leaned forward, adjusting his glasses as he looked you over. His suit was tan. His tie was brown. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a retirement brochure.

He didn’t smile.

His eyes landed on your hair, soft and natural, shaped carefully the way you and Remmick had discussed, and he frowned.

“You didn’t straighten your hair?”

The air thinned.

He said it casually. Like it was a reasonable question. Like you were the one who’d missed a memo. There was no malice in his voice. No edge. Just that neutral, evaluative tone. The kind that made your skin prickle.

You opened your mouth, unsure whether to answer. Whether to defend. But you didn’t get the chance.

Remmick’s words came back to you.

If they don’t like it, they can choke on it.

You straightened your spine. Lifted your chin.

“No,” you said, clearly. “I didn’t.”

His brow lifted, but he didn’t comment further. Just made a note on the paper in front of him and gestured toward the far end of the room. “We’ll have you stand there, please.”

You moved without trembling. Stood where he told you. But just as he looked up again, his tone shifted. Cool, clinical, condescending, like he was correcting a child.

“Next time, I’d encourage you to tame it a little,” he said, making a vague swirling motion near his own head. “It tends to interfere with the shape of the editorial spread. Distracts from the clothes.”

You held your breath for a second.

Then exhaled, choosing to respond with your silence.

You couldn’t see Remmick from here, but you knew, if he could, he’d be watching through the walls. Jaw set. Eyes sharp. Fingers curled around the armrest of some uncomfortable waiting room chair, burning with the need to intervene but holding back for your sake. Because he trusted you. Because he’d prepared you for this.

They smiled at you.

All three of them. The old white man in the center, still reeking of cedar cologne and importance. The younger one on his left with the narrow glasses and tight mouth. And the woman, quiet, polished, seated from the start, offered the warmest smile of all, like it might soften what was coming.

“You’ve got something,” the man in the center said, folding his hands like he was giving you the world instead of brushing you off. “Undeniably. And that face? It tells a story.”

You waited. Chin high. Shoulders set. The reader in you knew a setup when you heard one.

“But,” he continued, “we just couldn’t find the right fit for you on the cover. The concept’s already tight, and we’re working with established talent.”

The woman nodded sympathetically. “We’ll absolutely include you in the spread, though. There’s a great piece near the back. Beauty-focused, intimate lighting. You’ll photograph beautifully there.”

“Somewhere in the centerfold,” the younger man added. “Where you’ll pop.”

Pop.

You kept smiling. Even thanked them. Told them it was an honor.

The hallway outside felt colder than it had earlier. Like whatever heat had filled the building this morning had been drained just for you. You glanced around, expecting to see Remmick waiting in that same corner you assumed he'd been pacing in for the last hour, but he wasn’t there.

“Your agent?” the receptionist offered, catching your look. “He was asked to wait in the lobby. Waiting room’s only for models.”

You nodded, once. Of course it was.

You stepped into the elevator, then down through the marble lobby, each heel-click a reminder. Not of rejection exactly, because they hadn’t said no. But of all the ways a person can still be told not quite.

Remmick was already rising from the bench opposite of the window when you turned the corner. The second he saw you, he stood fast. Palms brushing down the front of his shirt, like his whole body was waiting for your cue. For your expression to tell him what to feel.

His mouth opened, but you beat him to it.

“They said I’ll be in the magazine,” you said.

His face didn’t move. Not right away.

Then slowly, his brow lifted.

“And?”

“Not on the cover.”

You watched it hit him. Watched how his expression stayed still for half a second too long. Just long enough for it to twist into something else. Something dangerous.

His jaw set hard. A muscle ticked. The color beneath his skin seemed to shift, just faintly, as if whatever fire lived inside him didn’t know where to go yet.

You almost thought he’d go back upstairs. March into that office and ask those men if they had any idea who they’d just handed a consolation prize to. If they knew how much talent they’d looked straight in the eye and passed over like it was nothing. He looked like he wanted blood.

But instead, he turned back to you.

His voice was quiet when it came. Measured.

“Well,” he said, lips tight around the word, “it’s a start.”

You gave a small nod. You didn’t trust your voice yet.

“And every star,” he added, smoothing his thumb along the back of your hand, “has to get her start somewhere.”

You looked down.

There was something about the way he said it. Not forced, not fake. But like he was trying to convince himself as much as you. Like he was clinging to the shape of the words because they were the only thing keeping him from sinking into whatever fury had been building behind his eyes.

“I wore what you told me,” you murmured. “Said what you told me to say. Stood still, smiled, kept my tone light. Did everything right.”

“You did more than right,” he said quickly. “You were brilliant.”

You looked back up.

“Then why wasn’t it enough?”

His face twisted. Something old passed over it. A flicker of pain he couldn’t hide fast enough.

“It was enough,” he said, voice low. “You are enough. You’re more than they’ve ever had walk through those doors, and they know it. That’s why they smiled so damn hard, ’cause they were too scared to admit they didn’t have the guts to hand you what you earned.”

You blinked.

He softened immediately.

“Darlin’,” he said gently, and that was the first time he’d called you that in a place like this. Not in the safety of your brownstone, not in the hush of his voice during quiet mornings or late nights. Here. Now. On a marble floor that didn’t want to carry your name.

He pulled you close, just enough to press his hand to the small of your back, shielding you from the glances nearby. “This is the last time someone underestimates you and walks away proud of it. I swear on my fuckin’ life.”

You exhaled, shaky. His hand rubbed small circles into your back, smoothing over the ache like he could press all the disappointment down until it flattened into something manageable.

“You said it yourself. You'll be in the magazine,” he went on. “A spread still gets eyes. Still gets press. They’ll see your face, your name, and the next time we walk into a building like this-” his voice dropped, almost growled, “-they’ll beg to put you on the front.”

You knew it wasn’t just a promise. It was a threat. A vow.

Remmick didn’t get loud. He didn’t need to. But the intensity in his voice had a gravity all its own, like if the world didn’t bend for you, he’d find a way to crack it open with his bare hands.

“I’ll make sure of it,” he said, softer now. “No matter what it takes.”

You leaned into him. Just slightly. Enough for him to steady you.

The world had felt heavier in the elevator. More than disappointment. It was like it had reinforced something you’d been trying to unlearn: that the door would still close, even when you did everything right.

But here, in the curve of his palm and the grit of his words, it felt manageable. Not fixed. But seen.

You didn’t say anything else as you both walked toward the exit, his hand never once leaving your back. His touch didn't say Keep moving. It said I’ve got you, and for now, that was enough.

He didn’t take you out that night.

You thought maybe he would. Half-expected it, honestly, with the way he’d looked at you in the car. Like you were glass and flame all at once, and he couldn’t decide which part to reach for first. His hand had stayed on your knee the whole ride, but not in that idle, drifting way men sometimes did when they got comfortable. No, his touch had been still. Focused. His thumb pressing slow, precise circles into the fabric, as if committing the shape of you to memory.

But when you stepped into the brownstone, he didn’t say a word about dinner, or drinks, or anything at all that required going back out into the city.

The door clicked softly shut behind you.

He locked it. Then checked it again, like he always did. Not once. Twice. Fingers lingering on the bolt like the world couldn’t be trusted not to knock again.

Then he turned, caught your eye in the dim hallway light, and you caught the redshift in his.

“Let me keep you in tonight,” he said.

Not a plea. Not a command. Just a fact.

You nodded before you even realized it.

It wasn’t long before the apartment was quiet again, save for the distant hum of traffic and the rustle of Remmick moving through the kitchen. You stood in the living room, still in your casting outfit, watching him open the fridge with that same thoughtful care he brought to everything. Like every bottle or jar might be hiding something important.

You didn’t expect him to cook. You’d never seen him eat. But the man knew his way around a pan, that much was clear.

He tied your apron around his waist without asking, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows as he set to work with the kind of slow, methodical focus that made the whole kitchen seem quieter.

Olive oil warmed in the pan. Garlic hit it next, the sizzle sharp and sudden before mellowing into something rich and familiar.

You leaned against the doorway, arms folded. Watching.

He didn’t look up, but you saw his shoulders shift like he could feel your eyes.

“I had somethin’ else in mind for tonight,” he said. “Somethin’ with music. White tablecloths. Wine list thick enough to kill a man. But figured you might need a minute to breathe.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know,” he said softly. “Still.”

You didn’t say anything to that. Just watched him toss fresh herbs into the pan. Basil, thyme, a pinch of something red from a spice jar he’d labeled in your handwriting. You didn't allow yourself to consider how he even learned to write like you.

“What’re you making?”

“Pasta,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “The real kind. Not that boxed stuff.”

You raised a brow. “You knead dough too, Remmick? That part of the agency job description?”

His mouth twitched, knowingly so. “Never hurts to be versatile.”

You smirked, but didn’t push it.

The radio played something low and old from the corner of the room, letting its dusty melody thread through the space like smoke. You sank into the armchair by the window, curling one leg beneath you as you listened to the rhythmic scrape of Remmick’s knife against the cutting board.

It was peaceful. Domestic in a way that felt almost unreal.

He plated your food with a flourish and brought it over without a word, setting it gently in front of you like he’d done it a thousand times before.

“Don’t wait,” he said, already moving to clear space on the coffee table.

You didn’t.

The pasta was perfectly done. Homemade sauce, deep and savory. You chewed slowly, trying to hide your surprise.

“You sure you didn’t work in a kitchen before this?”

“No ma’am,” he said, stretching out on the floor in front of you, back against the couch. “Just picked things up.”

He didn’t have a plate. You’d stopped asking about that after the third time it happened. He always said he’d eat later, that he’d already eaten, or that he wasn’t hungry. But the look in his eyes as he watched you always told a different story.

“Thank you,” you murmured, after a few more bites.

He looked up at you then. Eyes soft.

“You don’t gotta thank me.”

“I want to.”

Something shifted in his face. A flicker of something he didn’t say. He looked back down at the rug.

“I know today didn’t go like we wanted,” he said, voice quieter now. “But it’s a start. Ain’t no stars born in full blaze. You’ll get there.”

You hummed, letting the praise settle somewhere deep inside. The pasta disappeared slower after that. You were full before you finished, but you kept taking little bites just to keep him sitting there. Just to keep this moment still.

He cleared the plate when you finally set it down. Washed it, dried it, and returned like it was nothing. Like you hadn’t watched his shoulders flex through the thin linen of his shirt or followed the curve of his jaw as he leaned over the sink.

When he returned, he didn’t sit on the floor this time.

He eased onto the couch instead, the cushions dipping under his weight, the worn linen wrinkling beneath him. His body moved with the kind of slow care that wasn’t laziness, but calculation. Like he was measuring how much space he ought to take up, how much distance there was between your bodies.

Then he held out his hand.

Open. Bare. Still.

No words. Just that quiet, steady offering. Not an ask. Not a demand. An invitation.

You didn’t speak either. Just looked at him, looked at that hand, then back up into his face.

He wasn’t smiling. Not exactly. But there was a kind of soft hope carved into the lines of his mouth, a flicker in his eyes that said he needed the touch more than he wanted to admit.

So you reached for him.

Your fingers slid into his, warm and steady, and let him draw you forward. Not pulled. Not dragged or directed or coaxed, but simply… guided. Like gravity worked differently where he was.

You let yourself settle beside him.

His arm curled naturally along the back of the couch, but didn’t touch you. Not at first. He sat still as you tucked your legs beneath you, shifting until your shoulder just brushed his chest.

The lamp nearby cast long, slow shadows against the brick wall behind you. The whole apartment felt hushed, wrapped in soft amber and low sounds from the street that barely reached the window.

You tilted your head slightly, letting the silence stretch.

He looked at you then.

Really looked.

And not with that mask he wore around others, the one he used when smoothing the way for phone calls and photoshoots, all cleverness and quiet, careful charm.

This was different.

His hand slid from the cushion behind you, moved down and found yours again. He cradled it between both of his like it was delicate. Breakable. A thing too precious to be touched without veneration.

He traced the shape of your palm with the tip of one finger. Slow. Careful.

And said nothing.

You let him do it. Let him take your hand in his and explore it like it might disappear, like every line and fold and soft edge meant something more than flesh and skin.

You looked at him for a long moment, studying the lines around his eyes, the way his hair was still mussed from running his fingers through it. His jaw was tense, but not with anger. Something quieter. Something more internal.

“You okay?” you asked.

He smiled faintly. “Tired.”

“You sleep last night?”

He gave a soft snort. “Don’t need much.”

You let that go.

The apartment was quiet again. The kind of hush that felt deliberate. Sacred. The low hum of the refrigerator was the only thing keeping time now.

And then he spoke again.

“I ever tell you how much I hate bein’ helpless?” he said quietly. “Hate sittin’ in a hall waitin’ to hear how they gonna minimize you. Like I’m just supposed to swallow it.”

You didn’t answer. Just turned, leaning slightly into the curve of his arm where it hovered behind you.

“Hey,” you said after a pause. “You didn’t fail me.”

He didn’t speak.

“You hear me?” you pressed, voice firmer now. “You didn’t.”

He looked at you again then. That same old look. Like you were something just out of reach, Something he didn’t think he deserved but couldn’t stop staring at.

And then, like a dam breaking, he shifted.

His hand slid from yours, only to return a second later, cupping the back of your fingers, cradling them between both of his. He brought them close to his mouth, not quite kissing them, but holding them there like they warmed him.

“I just wanted it to be perfect,” he frowned.

You tilted your head.

“It is,” you said. “Not the job. Not them. But this? Us?”

He blinked.

“It’s getting there.”

That earned a small laugh. Quiet. Real.

You smiled.

“Thank you for dinner,” you said again, softer now.

His eyes lingered on your lips a moment too long.

“Anytime.”

And he meant it.

Anytime. Anything. Always.

Every inch of him said so.

You didn’t sleep much the night before.

Too much weight in your chest. Too many thoughts, all rustling like paper just out of reach. Every time your eyes drifted closed, they fluttered open again. The room was too quiet, the air too still. It felt like something was waiting. Or maybe you were.

But even if you had managed to drift off, you would’ve woken anyway. You always did, somehow, whenever he came close.

It was subtle at first. The soft creak of a floorboard just beyond the hallway. A change in pressure. Barely there, but enough to make your skin prickle. Like the atmosphere shifted slightly to accommodate him. The air grew heavier, like it recognized him before your eyes did.

You didn’t move. Kept your breath even. Let your lashes stay low, even though your eyes were cracked open just enough to see the shape in the corner.

Remmick.

Standing there. Still as a portrait, as if one stray blink might smear him from view. Bare-chested, in nothing but a pair of dark briefs that hung low on his hips, his skin pale and sharp against the dark. The moonlight didn’t dare touch him directly. It hovered in the corners instead, gathering where his shoulder met his throat, pooling in the shallow dip of his chest. His body looked almost carved. Lean, wiry muscle wrapped tight in skin that barely looked like it belonged to someone living.

But it was his eyes that held you in place.

They didn’t catch the light.

They made their own.

Twin glints of red shimmered low beneath his brow, steady and unblinking. Not the flash of a reflection. Not the glimmer of light hitting moisture. No. These burned from within, low and quiet, like embers buried deep beneath ash. They didn’t flicker. They didn’t pulse.

They glowed.

And in that glow was something else. Something wordless. Something ancient.

He didn’t say a word.

Didn’t make a sound.

Just stood there at the foot of your bed, breathing like he didn’t trust himself to get any closer. Like he’d been walking through a dream all night and didn’t want to wake you for fear of it ending.

It wasn’t hunger in his face. Not lust, either. It was… awe. Disbelief, maybe. As if he wasn’t entirely convinced you were still real.

And as you watched him, quiet, breath steady, you couldn’t help but wonder:

How long had he been doing this?

How many nights had he stood in that exact spot?

How many times had you not woken up? Had you not noticed?

The thought didn’t scare you. If anything, it stirred something softer. Stranger. Like the ghost of a heartbeat rising from the floorboards beneath you.

You didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

And neither did he.

By the time the alarm sounded, the sun wasn’t up yet, but he was already in the kitchen.

You heard the clink of porcelain, the soft scrape of a drawer sliding open, the rhythmic hush of his bare feet moving across the floor. The smell of something warm and faintly herbal drifted through the air. Something like honey and mint, but darker underneath. Earthier.

You sat up slowly, still heavy with the weight of half-slept dreams, and blinked against the dim light spilling in from the hallway.

Your clothes were already laid out again. Pressed and folded across the back of the couch. The same place as last time.

A blouse in cream and cinnamon tones. High-waisted slacks. The matching heels you'd only worn once, but that he’d polished clean anyway. Everything laid out with such care it made your chest ache. He didn’t miss a detail. He never did.

Even your hair products, combs, oils, moisturizers, pins, were already set neatly beside a warm towel on the kitchen counter. Like he’d anticipated the exact order you’d reach for them, the sequence of your morning carved into his mind.

You stepped in, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and found him whistling. Low and unhurried, some old tune you couldn’t place. He stood at the stove, stirring something in a small pan, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow. There was a quiet light to him this morning.

His hair was combed back, not slicked, but neat. The buttons on his shirt done all the way up, save for the top two, leaving his throat bare. His slacks were creased to perfection, and the leather belt cinched around his waist gleamed like he’d buffed it just for the occasion.

He looked over his shoulder at you, and his face lit up like it always did. Like you were the very thing he’d been hoping would walk through that doorway.

Because you were.

“Evenin',” he said with a smile, voice rough but still sweet.

You raised a brow. “It’s morning.”

His smile widened, almost sheepish. “Don’t feel like it.”

You moved closer, the floor cool beneath your bare feet, and leaned your hip against the counter beside him.

“You been up long?” you asked.

He shrugged, eyes flicking back to the pan. “Long enough. Wanted to make sure everything was just right.”

He handed you a steaming mug of tea without being asked. Your favorite, of course. Just the right amount of honey, just the way you liked it.

“You nervous?” he asked softly, not looking at you.

You didn’t answer right away.

Instead, you watched him. The set of his jaw. The way his fingers flexed slightly on the wooden spoon. His body was still, but the tension was there. It always was. Like the storm never fully left his bones.

“Not really,” you said. “Not yet.”

He nodded. Then turned toward you fully, wiping his hands on a towel tucked into the waistband of his slacks. He studied you, head tilted slightly, eyes trailing over your face with that same intent scrutiny you were starting to get used to.

You didn’t flinch from it anymore.

“C’mere,” he said gently, holding out a hand.

You hesitated. Only for a second.

Then reached forward.

His fingers wrapped around yours, warm and careful, and he tugged you closer. Slow, but certain.

“I had a dream about you,” he said softly.

“You were wearin’ that same look. All bright-eyed and sharpened up. Like you’d walked straight out of some storybook meant to ruin someone,”

He laughed, soft and half-embarrassed, but didn’t look away.

“You make it hard for a man to think straight, y’know that?”

You didn’t respond right away. You just let the words settle, warm and slow in the hollow of your throat. Something in the way he said those words made your stomach twist. Made your breath stick somewhere deep in your ribs. It didn’t feel like the usual flattery. Not cheap. Not performative. Not the kind of thing you’d heard a dozen times back home or whispered at castings with a sleazy grin.

This was different. Lower. Honest. Like it surprised even him.

And maybe it did.

Because as soon as he said it, he seemed to catch himself. Barely. His throat moved with the effort of swallowing it down. His eyes dropped, and he took a small step back, as if distance might fix whatever he’d let slip between you.

“Go wash up,” he said, voice quieter now. “I’ll get breakfast finished.”

You didn’t argue. Just nodded once and moved toward the bathroom, heartbeat louder than your footsteps.

By the time you stepped out again, hair wrapped in a towel and skin still warm from the steam, the apartment smelled faintly of sage and something sweet. Peaches, maybe. Or brown sugar. You couldn’t tell. Just that it was soft. Comforting.

The living room had a golden hue now, touched by early light filtered through overcast skies. Everything looked gentler, as if the whole city had been wrapped in gauze.

Remmick wasn’t at the stove anymore. The burner was off, the kettle still hot beside it.

He stood at the window instead, one hand resting on the sill, the other pulling the curtain back just a fraction. Not enough to see out fully. Just enough to check.

When he turned back around and saw you, whatever he’d been worrying about fell clean out of his face.

His eyes widened slightly. Jaw slackened. His whole posture shifted, like the breath had been pulled straight out of him.

“God damn,” he whispered, nearly under his breath. “Look at you.”

You didn’t need a mirror to know what he was seeing. The high-waisted pants he’d picked out the night before, fitted just right to your waist. The blouse with its delicate neckline and little pearl buttons, catching faint light. Your curls still damp but styled soft and neat. Face clean. Mostly bare, but radiant.

You let yourself smile. Just a little. “You picked the outfit.”

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t nod, either.

Just walked toward you, slow and careful, like approaching something sacred. His boots barely made a sound on the old wood floor.

“Still,” he purred, reaching out to brush something, nothing, really, from your sleeve. His fingers lingered a little longer than needed. “You wear it better than I dreamed.”

He fussed over you the entire time. Fixing buttons. Adjusting seams. His fingers lingered where they shouldn’t have. On your hip, on your collarbone, but always under the guise of perfection.

“You’re gonna hate the cabs in this city,” he chuckled, smoothing a wrinkle from your skirt. “Good thing we’re not takin’ one.”

You raised a brow, though you weren't at all surprised. “We’re not?”

He looked up, pleased with himself in that quiet way. “Got a car waitin’. Somethin’ a little easier on the nerves. And the shoes.”

You laughed. “You got us another driver?”

“I got you a driver,” he corrected gently, brushing something invisible from your sleeve. “I just happen to be taggin’ along.”

His words tried to sound offhand, but his hands kept pausing. Kept hovering like they couldn’t quite bring themselves to let go.

The last touch lingered too long on your lower back.

“If it comes down to it,” he added lowly, “I’ll carry you myself.”

You smiled at the joke, but when you met his eyes, it wasn’t a joke at all.

He meant it.

And for a second, the air in the room felt heavier. Pressed in close. Charged.

You cleared your throat. “We better go.”

He nodded once, like it snapped him out of whatever spell he’d drifted into.

But just before you reached the door, he caught your hand. Gently. Held it between both of his, the edges of his fingers slightly trembling.

“Today ain’t just a shoot,” he said, voice steady, low. “It’s your beginnin’. Your real one. So when they look at you, don’t flinch. Don’t fold. Let ‘em see what I see.”

“And what’s that?” you asked softly.

He didn’t smile.

“Perfection.”

The car rolled to a stop outside a tall brick building tucked deep into SoHo, the kind with no sign on the front and a buzzer system you had to know how to work to get inside. From the curb, it didn’t look like much. A delivery van was parked at the corner. Two men with light meters and cases of film were hunched over a dolly at the service entrance. But inside was something different.

The photographer’s studio took up the entire top floor. High ceilings, polished concrete floors, wall-to-wall windows dressed in gauzy white fabric that filtered in the pale morning light like milk through cheesecloth. You stepped in and immediately noticed the quiet chill in the air, too sterile to feel artistic. Not cold exactly. Just... clinical.

The space had clearly been prepared. No one had cut corners. A fresh bouquet of lilies and peonies sat in a vase by the makeup station. Garment racks overflowed with gowns in every imaginable shade, some still tagged, some borrowed from designers who only lent to the best. Studio assistants buzzed around with clipboards and cups of coffee, walking fast but talking softly. Respectfully. Not to you, but to him.

Remmick.

He stood just behind your shoulder, as he always did, not saying much but radiating authority in a way that made people clear a path. There was no need for volume, no need for presence to be announced. His silence had weight. The kind that made a room shift without realizing it.

You saw it in the way spines straightened when he stepped close, the way assistants lowered their voices mid-sentence, as if whatever they were discussing might offend him by accident. He didn’t bark orders. He didn’t need to. His gaze alone, steady, unreadable, somehow both patient and predatory, did most of the work.

Every time someone turned, they looked at him first. Their questions never quite made it to your lips. The makeup artist. The stylist. Even the photographer, who was trying too hard to act like he didn’t notice. His eyes flicked to Remmick’s figure once, twice, like he was trying to place him. Like he didn’t understand why he felt nervous.

You’d started noticing it more often. How his presence rearranged a room. How the tone changed, the pace shifted. Like the energy bent around him before anyone knew it was happening.

The photographer, a trim white man in his late thirties with thin lips and thick-framed glasses, finally stepped forward. His pants were pressed too stiff. His cologne smelled sharp and expensive, but didn't mask the sweat already building beneath his collar. He gave you a quick glance. Nothing warm. Nothing memorable. Just a skim of the eyes like you were a fabric sample. He didn’t offer a name.

Instead, he turned his head, nose wrinkling ever so slightly, and addressed the stylist behind him.

“She’s darker than I expected,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice. Not even a whisper of shame. “We’ll need to be careful with lighting. That undertone catches weird on film.”

You felt Remmick stiffen behind you. So subtly you might’ve missed it if you hadn’t been so attuned to the way he breathed.

There was a silence, sudden and sharp, like someone had shut a drawer too hard.

But he didn’t speak.

Not yet.

You didn’t need to turn to know his hands were probably flexing at his sides, slow and deliberate. His restraint wasn’t the brittle kind. It was the kind that bided time. Waited for the perfect opening.

You kept your face smooth. Not blank, not soft, just controlled. Every inch of you brimming with dignity he clearly hadn’t expected. You caught one of the assistants glancing up from her clipboard, eyes wide and flicking from the photographer to you with something like alarm. Her jaw tensed, but she said nothing.

No one corrected him.

No one said a word.

But you simply walked past anyway, toward the makeup chair, head held high.

The chair sat beneath a ring of lights, too white and too bright. You sank into it with practiced grace, smoothing your robe over your thighs as a stylist bustled over, her nervous smile stretched too wide.

“Hey, sweetie,” she chirped. “Let’s get you glammed up, yeah?”

Her hands were quick, efficient. She swatched shades across your jawline with a speed that spoke more to panic than precision. None of them matched. Too yellow. Too gray. Too red. You didn’t say anything. Just watched as she fumbled, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for another palette.

“Your undertone’s so unique,” she muttered. “Really gotta find that balance... can’t let the camera flatten it...”

You knew what she meant.

And what she didn’t say.

Remmick hadn’t moved from the edge of the room. He leaned against a column, arms crossed, eyes locked on the back of your head through the mirror. Not breathing heavy. Not shifting. Just watching.

Guarding.

The stylist was careful with your hair, at least. Didn't try to fight it. Just lifted and pinned and fluffed with dutiful fingers, whispering tiny praises under her breath like she was scared of doing too much. She was trying, you gave her that. Whether it was guilt or fear or something closer to decency, you didn’t care. So long as she kept her hands gentle and her thoughts to herself.

“Camera loves your cheekbones,” she said, and that part sounded honest.

When you were done, you stood slowly, caught your own reflection in the mirror.

You looked like yourself.

Yourself, but sharpened. Framed in gold and plum. Lips glossed, lashes full, jaw set just right.

Behind you, Remmick shifted. You saw him in the glass, his eyes not on the outfit, not on the hair.

On you.

Always on you.

You didn’t smile. Not yet. But something eased in your chest.

The first few rounds of photos went smoothly enough. You moved between backdrops in different gowns. Deep purples, yellows, something champagne-colored with a sheer overlay that caught the light like water. The fabric floated when you walked, whispering against your legs, pooling at your ankles in gentle, liquid waves.

You didn’t pose so much as exist the way Remmick had taught you: shoulders open, chin tilted with certainty, mouth soft but deliberate. Posture like armor. Expression like invitation. You didn’t chase the camera. You let it come to you. Let it find the angles it wanted, as if it had no choice but to follow the pull of your gravity.

The flashbulbs burst in rhythmic intervals, bright and brief, filling the space with the scent of heat and ozone. Stylists moved around you in a silent, efficient orbit. Patting down your skirt hem, adjusting the hang of your sleeve, brushing an invisible strand of hair from your brow. But it was the photographer who kept lagging behind. You could feel it in the pauses. In the hesitations. In the way he kept glancing toward Remmick like a man who had questions he didn’t know how to ask.

He didn’t know how to handle it.

“Give me something more demure,” he called at one point, standing behind the camera with a squint and a frown. “Less... confrontational. Softer eyes.”

Your brows lifted. Not high. Just enough. And just for a moment, you let your tongue slip.

“I’m looking into a lens.”

“Well, yes,” he said, chuckling like he thought that’d smooth things over. “But it’s just... try to be less direct. You’re a feature, not the focus.”

You didn't say anything back.

Your mouth didn't even twitch.

But Remmick did.

“She’s exactly the focus,” he said, stepping forward from the edge of the lights, voice low and firm and without a speck of humor. “That’s what centerfold means.”

The room went still again.

Even the stylist’s hands froze mid-pin near your waist. The assistant by the reflector stiffened, eyes darting between the two men.

The photographer adjusted a light. His fingers weren’t as steady as before.

“I meant it compositionally,” he said, clearing his throat, not quite meeting Remmick’s eye.

“No, you didn’t.”

Remmick said it without blinking.

His tone hadn’t changed. Calm. Crisp. But the weight behind it was enough to press the silence flat between every heartbeat in the room.

And for a moment, the only thing that moved was the slow flicker of the overhead bulb as it warmed.

The photographer looked down, fiddled with his light meter, and muttered something about “another angle.”

Eventually, the shoot resumed.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t fold.

But you caught the way Remmick stayed closer now. Just outside the frame. Arms still crossed. Watching the photographer like a man making mental measurements. Every time the camera clicked, his eyes weren’t on the flash, but on the hands that adjusted it. On the words that came next. On every breath, every shift in tone, like he was deciding whether or not to let this man finish his job.

As the final shots were taken, dramatic lighting, a sheer backdrop, your hair full and proud against the white, he moved beside the stylist and spoke low, voice barely above a hum.

“She’s done after this one,” he said. “I’ll be handling approvals.”

The stylist didn’t argue. Just nodded, lips pressed together, hands folding neatly at her waist.

You were back in your clothes ten minutes later, the silk blouse clinging a little from the heat still radiating off your skin. The dressing room felt more cramped than it did before, the air heavy with setting spray and leftover perfume. Your throat was dry. One of the assistants handed you a paper cup with a straw, and you accepted it without a word, sipping slow, letting the cool water settle the heat in your chest.

Someone knelt beside you, working at the straps of the heels. Your feet ached, throbbing faintly from hours of posing. Never quite standing, never quite walking, just holding beauty in place.

Remmick was waiting by the door.

He hadn’t moved the entire time. Coat over his arm, one hand resting lightly against the wall as if to anchor himself. His body didn’t sway. Didn’t fidget. But his jaw ticked every few seconds, like he was grinding something silent between his teeth.

When you joined him, blouse tucked, shoulders square, he didn’t say anything right away. He just looked at you.

Looked long.

“You were perfect,” he hummed, voice barely above a hush.

“But?”

“But nothing,” he said, tone rough at the edges. “You were perfect.”

He opened the door with his free hand, held it until you passed through, his touch naturally settling the small of your back.

He didn’t comment on the photographer again.

He didn’t have to.

You saw it in the way he walked beside you. Shoulders set too tight, gait too rigid for someone supposedly at ease. His jaw was still clenched, the muscle there twitching with the rhythm of his steps. His fingers flexed every now and then, as if rehearsing something they’d wanted to do but hadn’t been given permission to.

And when you stepped into the elevator, he stood still. Hands folded in front of him. The red shimmer pulsed once, subtle and slow. You reached out, gently brushing the tips of your fingers against his wrist.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t flinch.

Just looked at you, like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the floor.

You weren’t sure what he would’ve done if you hadn’t been there to stop him.

But you were.

And he let you lead this time.

Just this once.

It had been a week since the shoot. Seven full days since your skin was powdered and styled, since camera bulbs flashed like lightning, and since Remmick’s hand hovered behind your back like a second spine. Steadier than any wall, quieter than any breath, always there.

And now, a week later, the magazines were out.

The sun hadn’t even gone down when you heard the lock click. You were barefoot in the living room, tea cooling untouched on the windowsill, your thumb slowly dragging across the same corner of the same page in a book you hadn’t really touched since morning. You weren’t reading. Just looking. Letting the quiet stretch long around you.

The soft hum of traffic rose from below, dulled behind brick and double glass. Somewhere across the alley, a radio crackled faintly from an open window. But inside, the air was hushed and warm, filled with the scent of sweet almond and black vanilla. Something Remmick had lit before he left, soft and curling in the corners of the apartment like memory. A clean smell. Luxurious in its calm.

You turned your head at the sound of the door creaking open.

Remmick stepped in, arms full. No coat, he hadn’t worn one in days now, but his favorite fitted blazer was slung on his shoulders. Brown and a little rumpled like he’d worn it too long. His sleeves were pushed to the elbows, forearms exposed, the collar open at his throat. His skin looked flushed, not from heat, but from effort. From thrill.

And in his hands?

Magazines.

Stacks and stacks of them.

Glamour. Thick, glossy. Dozens, no, maybe hundreds of copies, some with their spines still crisp, others already peeled open, like he couldn’t resist peeking before bringing them home. He kicked the door shut behind him with the heel of his shoe and dropped the load on the coffee table in a huff of breath and triumph.

You blinked at the pile.

Then looked up at him.

Then back down.

“…Remmick.”

He beamed at you.

Actually beamed.

And for just a second, just long enough to make your stomach flip, you saw them.

Fangs.

Not teeth. Not canines. Fangs.

They hadn’t fully retracted. The points glinted faintly behind his bottom lip, his mouth too wide with joy to contain them, like he’d forgotten what he was supposed to hide.

He didn’t notice. Not yet. Just stood there, catching his breath, eyes glowing faint and sweet in the lamplight like he'd returned from battle with spoils no one could take from him.

And you, watching from the couch, weren’t sure what took your breath first. His smile, or the fact that it wasn’t quite human.

“Every shop had a limit,” he said breathlessly, already tugging the first magazine open. “Three per customer, some of ’em said. Five, if I smiled real nice.”

You raised a brow.

He licked his thumb, flipped a page. “So I went to every damn shop in Manhattan.”

And he meant it. His shirt was damp at the collar, sleeves wrinkled at the elbows. A thin line of sweat traced his temple like he’d run half the way home. You could practically see the city on him. Subway grit on his cuffs, the faint scent of cold air and ink clinging to the folds of his blazer. He looked like a man who’d carried your name through the streets like it was gospel.

Then he found the spread.

Your spread.

Dead center in the glossy pages, your face filled the left half. Your body, the way they’d posed you, half reclined, your mouth parted like you’d just finished saying something worth listening to, took up the right. Above it, the title gleamed in embossed gold: A Southern Star on the Rise

He whistled low. “Would you look at that.”

He turned the magazine toward you like you hadn’t already lived it. Like you hadn’t memorized every contour, every careful arch of your brows, every piece of your expression caught in that still moment of light.

But he held it like it was sacred. Like scripture. Like he was revealing something you hadn’t quite grasped yet.

“Damn,” he muttered, opening another copy. “Print didn’t dull you a bit. Thought maybe it would. Thought maybe it’d catch you wrong. But no. You shine right through.”

He pulled open another magazine. Then another.

In seconds, your entire coffee table disappeared under layers of your own image. Identical pages laid side by side, all turned to the centerfold. There you were, over and over again. Still. Composed. Glowing.

Like a constellation laid across the living room. Like stars, just rearranged.

Remmick crouched beside the table, smoothing one copy flat with the care of someone laying down silk. He didn’t blink, just studied the page like it was breathing, alive. Like he was waiting for it to reach back.

Then he rose to full height, tucked a copy under his arm, and walked over to you. Still barefoot. Still silent.

Still watching.

And you, frozen on the couch, felt your throat tighten with something you hadn’t named yet.

“You seen yourself in these?” he asked, voice quiet and smooth. Like the question itself was fragile.

You nodded once.

He grinned and leaned in to kiss your cheek. Just a brush of lips. But slow. Like it meant something. Like it had waited all day to land there, and now that it had, the world could keep spinning again.

Then he reached for your chin. Callused fingers gentle as they tipped your face up, thumb brushing just beneath your jaw.

“I want you to say it,” he demanded, though so gently you could've mistaken it for a polite question.

You blinked. “Say what?”

He didn’t answer. Just looked at you. Really looked. His pupils were blown wide, red bleeding through the blue, burning steady in the low light of your living room.

Not glowing out of hunger.

Not now.

Out of pride. Out of something heavier. Older.

He waited.

So you said it.

Soft at first. A breath, barely formed.

“I’m a fuckin’ star.”

His smile widened. Slow, hungry, like it’d been waiting just beneath the surface.

So you said it again.

Louder this time.

“I’m a fuckin’ star!”

And this time, he didn’t stop at your cheek.

He kissed the corner of your mouth. Gentle. Noncommittal. A press of gratitude, of awe. Like you’d just named something holy.

Then he straightened, tapped your shoulder once with two fingers like sealing a blessing, and turned back toward the coffee table. Toward the sea of open pages like he couldn’t stand to look at just one.

He crouched again. Fingers drifting over the print, barely touching the paper. Just enough to feel the ink. Just enough to make sure it was real.

Behind him, you stared down at your own face. Again, and again, and again, until the whole room felt covered in you. Until your name echoed back at you from every glossy surface.

It was too much.

It wasn’t enough.

You reached for one of the magazines and ran your hand over the fold. The version of yourself staring back was powerful. Beautiful. Alive. You looked like a woman who knew exactly who she was.

The only thing stronger than the pride warming your chest was the look in his eyes every time he flipped a page.

He thumbed through another copy, quieter now. As if just the sound of turning paper was too loud. Then, almost absentmindedly, like the thought had just resurfaced between page turns, he said it:

“Oh, Vogue called.”

Your head snapped up.

He didn’t look at you right away. Just kept flipping, smoothing down a crease on one of the centerfolds.

“Said they had an opening next month. I booked it. Thursday, ten.”

You blinked.

“Vogue.”

“Yeah.” His voice was soft, distracted. Eyes still on the magazine in front of him. “Figured it was a good fit. Didn’t wanna wait.”

“You... booked a Vogue shoot?”

He finally looked up then, eyes wide and sincere, brows pinched like he was only just realizing something might be unusual.

“I mean… yeah. I told you, didn’t I?”

You stared at him.

He stared at your photo.

And then you laughed. Soft, incredulous, stunned.

Because of course he had.

Of course Vogue had called Remmick.

Of course they had seen the piece and knew exactly what they were looking at.

He hadn’t had to knock on their door, hadn’t begged or bargained. They came to him.

Because when they saw you, they didn’t see a gamble. They didn’t see a request.

They saw inevitability.

And Remmick?

He treated it like the most obvious thing in the world.

“You,” you said, smiling now, “are insane.”

He blinked once. Then gave a faint shrug, turning back to the magazine.

“Maybe,” he murmured. “But I’m not wrong.”

And when he looked at you again, spread out across a dozen pages, glowing under lamplight, you could see the truth settle in his expression.

He wasn’t just proud.

He was certain.

You were everything he said you were.

And now, the world was catching up.

You woke to the scent of freshly peeled citrus and the low sound of Remmick humming. The windows were still closed, the curtains drawn against a morning sky that hadn’t quite made up its mind. The apartment smelled sharper than usual. Grapefruit, maybe. Lemongrass. Something he knew cleared your head. You were still blinking the sleep from your eyes when his silhouette appeared in the doorway.

“Up,” he said gently. “Got somethin’ to tell you.”

You sat up slowly. “What time is it?”

“Little after six. But don’t panic,” he added, smile curling at the corners. “You’ve got hours.”

You raised a brow. “Remmick... what?”

He walked in, holding your outfit already pressed and draped across one arm. Light blue silk. Crisp ivory slacks. A bold, gold-buttoned jacket you didn’t recognize.

He held them out. “We’re goin’ to Vogue.”

You blinked. “I know. You said the shoot was today.”

He hesitated. Then, sheepishly, almost boyish, he added, “Right. But, uh… I didn’t tell you everything.”

You stared at him.

He cleared his throat. “It’s the cover. They want you on the cover.”

Your mouth went dry.

He took a step back. Just one. Holding the clothes like a peace offering. “Figured if I told you earlier, you’d start worryin’. Fret about posture. Or pores. Or your walk. Or-”

“Remmick.”

He looked at you then. Earnest. Glowing.

You pressed your palm against your chest, trying to slow the way your heart was kicking against your ribs.

“The cover?” you whispered.

“Front page. Full feature.”

It should’ve floored you. Maybe it still would. But right now, all you could do was nod and let him help you out of bed.

He guided you through the morning like a man who’d rehearsed it a hundred times. Hands careful, patient. Shirt laid out before you needed it. Jewelry untangled before you even glanced at the box. He pressed a warm cloth to your face, careful not to disturb the curl of your hair, freshly done the night before.

“You’re gonna knock ‘em dead,” he said, and you knew he believed every single word.

And then, quieter, almost to himself: “And I’ll be right there to see it.”

The car was waiting downstairs. Sleek and black and already running, the driver greeting Remmick with a nod and holding the door open for you like he’d been coached. Your nerves didn’t settle, not even on the drive. But Remmick’s hand rested gently against your knee the entire way. Grounding. Warm.

The studio was quiet when you arrived. Museum quiet, gallery quiet. The kind of stillness that felt curated, intentional, like someone had taken great care to make the space feel more like a cathedral than a workplace. The polished concrete floors were cool under your heels, spotless and reflecting faint outlines of the high arched windows that lined the walls. Exposed brick, original to the building, gave the room a sense of old, lived-in charm, and soft white curtains billowed ever so slightly from vents high above. The air was heavy with the scent of lavender, linen, and something powdery-sweet.

You moved through the entrance with Remmick just behind you, his hand barely grazing the small of your back. Never guiding, just anchoring. He didn’t speak, didn’t announce himself. He didn’t need to. His presence always did the talking.

The photographer met you before you’d taken more than three steps inside. “Étienne,” he said, with a faint bow of the head. His accent was French, thick and rounded at the edges, the syllables slipping from his mouth like warm sugar. His hair was silver at the temples, his blazer draped and elegant, and his handshake was firm but not aggressive. Warm, like he’d waited a long time to meet you.

“It is my absolute pleasure, mademoiselle,” he said. “I’ve admired your spread in Glamour. You moved with the camera. Not many know how to do that.”

He didn’t say your skin glowed.

Didn’t ask about your hair.

Didn’t say anything about being “surprised” by your presence.

He just met your eyes, quiet and open. Like you were someone worth listening to.

“Today,” he said, “you belong to the camera. Let’s make her fall in love.”

You let yourself breathe, just a little.

The rest of the team introduced themselves in a calm rhythm, one by one. No rushed hands. No clipped instructions. A stylist with a soft Brooklyn accent asked gently before adjusting your collarbone. A makeup artist barely older than you murmured a few compliments while swatching shades along your jaw. Matched your undertones on the first go. No hesitation. No apologies.

Your hair wasn’t “a challenge.” It wasn’t “big.” It was just yours. One woman, sharp-eyed and efficient, studied the fullness of your curls for a beat, then nodded once and said, “Let’s let it speak today.” No flattening. No translation.

You didn’t feel tolerated.

You felt expected.

Appreciated.

The way the room moved around you was not with caution, but with respect. Like your place had already been made, and they were just moving to match it.

And Remmick, he didn’t hover today.

He didn’t pace. Didn’t step in or offer unnecessary notes. He took a chair near the edge of the set, legs crossed, hands loosely clasped over one knee. His coat lay neatly across the back of the chair, and he looked like he was simply waiting for a performance he’d already seen, waiting to watch it unfold in the flesh.

He watched you the way a man watched a storm rolling in. Calm. Certain. Unwavering.

His eyes tracked your every step.

And when the camera clicked, when Étienne raised the lens and tilted his head just so, it began.

Soft commands, never harsh.

“Lift your chin just a touch, oui. That’s perfect.”

“Let the shoulder dip, like you’re sighing.”

“Not a smile. Just the idea of one.”

And you you didn’t pose. You existed. You did what Remmick had drilled into you for weeks: you let the room adjust to you. Shoulders drawn back, chin at just the right angle, spine fluid. You didn’t chase the lens. You let it orbit you.

Each frame caught something new: your strength, your softness, your refusal to shrink.

Backdrops shifted behind you. One faded into the next. Cool eggshell white to a moody, smoky grey. Then to a blush-rose curtain lit from behind to mimic early sunrise, and finally to a gold-toned gradient that bathed your skin in warmth, turning every line of your body into a celebration. Your hands, your mouth, the arch of your back. You weren’t just in the photo.

You were the photo.

At one point, as you adjusted in the sheer champagne gown, the stylist stepped close to smooth a wrinkle on your shoulder. She paused, tilted her head, then muttered under her breath, “I swear, you don’t have a bad angle.”

Remmick smiled at that.

Didn’t say anything.

But you saw his fingers twitch against his knee.

And when Étienne pulled the camera down after the final shot, when the room held its breath and the lights warmed one final time, he exhaled slow, his voice dropping.

“Mon dieu,” he said. “You are going to be the beginning of a new era.”

There weren’t cheers. No grand applause. Just a quiet stillness that settled over the room like snowfall.

The stylists nodded. One of the assistants wiped her eyes.

Your name passed around the room in whispers.

Back in your own clothes again, the familiar weight of your own scent folded into the fabric, you stood in front of the mirror, unsure what exactly had changed.

Something had.

You could still feel the echo of the lights on your skin, the soft heat of the set, the way Étienne had whispered magnifique under his breath more than once without knowing you heard him. The clothes they’d dressed you in had been draped and pinned and sculpted to fit your body like a second skin, but now that they were gone, what lingered wasn’t fabric.

It was power.

You weren’t wearing a magazine dress anymore.

But you still felt like a cover.

You gathered your things slowly. Slipped on your shoes one at a time. Tucked the lipstick you'd needlessly brought. Gave the studio one last glance over your shoulder, just to make sure it had all been real. That the lights weren’t a trick, that the hush in the room wasn’t some illusion of grandeur.

And then you saw him.

Remmick.

Standing at the edge of the studio floor, right where the light faded into shadow. His coat was folded neatly over one arm, the other hanging at his side, still and sure. He didn’t lean against the wall. Didn’t shift his weight. He just stood there like he’d been waiting for this exact moment, this exact you, to turn and meet his eyes.

And when you did?

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t grin. Didn’t offer some teasing remark or coy turn of phrase.

He just looked at you.

Like he couldn’t believe it.

Or maybe he could.

Like he’d known it all along but still wasn’t prepared for the truth of it staring back at him now, standing in her own skin, quiet and luminous and ready.

He extended his hand.

Not rushed. Not hesitant.

Like a gentleman.

Like a vow.

You stepped forward, each footfall soft against the studio floor, and reached out to take it.

His palm was warm. Slightly callused, as always. Big enough to hold you steady.

And when he leaned in close, closer than necessary, just so his breath could touch your ear, his voice dropped so low it barely cleared the air.

“They’re never gonna forget this.”

A beat passed. Two.

Neither did you.

Not the way the stylist said your name like it mattered. Not the way Étienne had bowed when the shoot wrapped, saying Merci, étoile. Not the way your hands hadn’t shaken once. Not the way Remmick’s thumb had grazed your knuckles on the way out, subtle and steady.

The door clicked shut behind you.

And the city welcomed its newest star.

You should’ve known not to get your hopes up.

Remmick had warned you once before. To not believe in the win until the ink dries and the check clears. And still, the moment the phone rang, you felt the breath catch in your chest like something was finally about to settle right.

It was early, too early, and the tea in your hand hadn’t even cooled yet. Steam curled in the morning light, soft and golden through the windows.

You heard him answer it in the kitchen. Not loud, not sharp. Just steady.

“Remmick.”

His voice, smooth. Polished. Still cold from sleep, but clipped with that quick professionalism he always wore when someone else was listening.

There was a pause. Long enough to tighten something at the base of your neck.

“…Come again?”

That was the first red flag.

You stood. Not rushed, not loud. Just enough to hear better. Half-expecting him to wave you off with a flick of his fingers, that little sideways smile he gave when things were under control.

But he didn’t.

He turned his back instead. Shoulders hunched slightly. Quiet. Like he didn’t want you to hear what was coming next.

He rubbed the back of his neck once, then pressed his thumb into the edge of the counter like he needed the grounding. His knuckles whitened around the phone cord, twisting it once, twice, tighter.

“Yes,” he said carefully, “I’m familiar with your lead editor.”

Another pause.

Then something darker entered his tone.

“Yes. The one with the impeccable eye for trend pieces.”

Your stomach dropped.

There was silence on his end. Long. Tense.

And then:

“They what?”

His voice didn’t rise. Not yet.

But it changed. Dropped lower. Flat and cold like steel before it’s drawn.

You stepped closer, quiet as breath, barefoot against the hardwood. Leaned just enough to see the side of his face. The angle of his jaw, sharp and flexed. The twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“They’ve already had their one for the year?” he repeated.

Low. Disbelieving. Dangerous.

His free hand came up, rubbing slow at his temple like he needed to press the words back out of his skull.

“Who’s they?” he asked, quieter now, but you felt the weight of it in your chest. “Go on. Say it clear.”

There was no response.

Just static. A voice on the other end fumbling for footing.

Remmick’s brows drew together.

“No, I’m not upset with you,” he said, voice thinning again into something cool and even. “I understand you’re just passing the message along.”

He closed his eyes a moment. You could see him working to keep it in. Like something old and sharp was waking in his blood, trying to claw its way out of his chest.

“I’d like to speak with the editor directly,” he said, softer now. “Yes. I’ll hold.”

And then his hand dropped to the counter. Fingers drumming.

Waiting. Ready.

The line clicked.

Then his jaw twitched.

“Good morning,” he said. Different now. Calmer, colder. Stripped of the courtesy he kept like a glove around secret hands. “Didn’t expect to catch you so early.”

You still couldn’t hear the voice on the other end. Not a single word. But you didn’t have to.

You could see everything you needed in him.

The stillness of his posture, the death grip he had on the base of the phone, the fine tremble running through the muscle of his forearm beneath that rolled-up cotton sleeve. It wasn’t the kind of rage that burst outward. It was the kind that boiled, thick and patient, one degree at a time.

“Yes,” he said, so polite it sounded rehearsed. “I was just speaking with your assistant.”

He closed his eyes a moment. Not a blink, but something longer. As if he needed to press the lids down tight to keep from rolling them.

“She told me they, meaning you, have reconsidered the cover.”

The pause that followed was electric. Tense.

Then, low and even:

“Right. Of course. Marketable. That’s the word you’re going with?”

He said it like the word itself offended him. Like it was dirty in his mouth. Too small for what he knew you were worth.

You moved forward without thinking. Just enough to lean your shoulder against the hallway wall. Careful. Watchful. Your arms folded tightly across your chest, heart beating fast and slow at once. He hadn’t seen you yet.

And you weren’t sure he was aware of anything anymore beyond that call.

“I see,” he said softly.

That was the shift.

The sound of something sliding into place. Like a bolt locking. A fuse catching.

“So let me get this straight,” he continued. Slow. Measured. Precise in a way that made your skin prickle.

“Your board approved the shoot. Your casting team signed off. Your editor watched the proofs. Sat on them. And now, after all that, you want to scale her back to a feature because you already had your cover for the year.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t empty.

It was dense.

He didn’t yell.

He didn’t curse.

He didn’t raise his voice by an inch.

But every word landed like a coin dropped on concrete. Heavy. Sharp. Deliberate.

“You think this city’s gonna run out of covers?” he asked, the ghost of a laugh in his voice, but it wasn’t amusement. It was disbelief, slicked with venom. “Or is it just that you think she’s the kind of beauty you ration out, so you don’t have to explain yourselves twice?”

His free hand braced against the counter now, steadying himself.

“Was she too sharp? Too soft? Too dark?” he asked, the last word clipped so hard it cracked in the air.

You watched him as he stood there, completely still except for the way his shoulders were rising. Measured. Controlled.

But underneath that, underneath every inch of him, he was seething.

He wasn’t shouting.

But something inside him was.

And you knew it. Could feel it.

Remmick was holding onto composure with a thread, not because he didn’t want to break, but because he knew what would happen if he did. Because if he said what he really meant, what lived behind that voice, that mouth, those glowing eyes, he might set the whole building on fire.

And you hadn’t even heard the worst of it yet.

His voice didn’t rise at first.

It stayed low, clipped, deliberate. But the sharpness in it grew. Line by line. Word by word. Like something uncoiling inside him, slick with heat and venom.

“You listen to me,” he said, voice climbing with a force that prickled the air, “and listen real good, if you think for one goddamn second that this is a numbers game, a market play, a token, you’ve already lost the future.”

You flinched. Not because he was yelling at you. He wasn’t.

He was yelling for you.

“You want safe? Go print another profile on Gunilla Lindblad. You want forgettable? Put some washed-out French girl on the cover in a turtleneck. But if you want history, if you want impact, you don’t remove the only name worth remembering.”

He turned then. Saw you.

And his eyes didn’t soften. Not even a little.

“She’s the only thing your readers are gonna remember come fall,” he snapped, jaw set, nostrils flaring. “Not the blonde. Not the brunette. Not whatever recycled face you’re tryin’ to float next. Her.”

There was a sputter of protest from the line. You couldn’t hear what was said. Didn’t need to. You were watching Remmick’s knuckles flare white around the phone.

“No, I don’t care what the board says. I don’t care what the sponsor says. And I sure as hell don’t care what you think’ll sell. I know what sells. You’re lookin’ at the future and treating it like it’s a fuckin’ one-shot.”

His voice cracked with how tightly it hit the consonants. Near shouting now, not just raised. Commanding.

“You owe her the same shot you’d give any other girl in her place. And if the only reason you’re pulling her is because you already had your one,” he hissed the word like it was venom, “then you better grow a spine before I walk you into a lawsuit so loud it echoes into next year’s masthead.”

Silence on the other end.

Remmick didn’t wait.

“I want you at the brownstone tomorrow night. Seven o’clock. Alone.”

His next words were a knife dragged slow.

“We’ll talk in person.”

And then he hung up.

Didn’t slam the receiver. Just lowered it with a kind of deliberate grace, a calm that only made the burn beneath more terrifying. He stared at the cradle for a moment like he could crush it just by looking hard enough.

Then sat, slowly, at the dining table. Exhaled through his nose.

He didn’t look up at you right away.

Just stared at the wood grain beneath his fingers, the set of his jaw making it clear he was holding something in.

Then his hand rose.

Palm up.

You crossed the room without a word and slid your fingers into his.

He pulled you down gently, like you were breakable, into his lap. One arm curled low across your waist, the other resting across your thighs. His hands were steady, even though you could still feel the tension in the muscles of his forearms, coiled and waiting, like it hadn’t quite drained from him yet.

His cheek pressed to your shoulder, his breath warm against the side of your neck.

“You’re goin’ on that cover,” he said, low and final.

There was no fire behind it. No venom.

Just certainty.

Like he was telling you the weather. Like it was already written in the next day’s paper.

You turned slightly in his arms. His hands tightened to keep you balanced, to keep you close. “Remmick…”

“No,” he cut in, soft. “No more backpedalin’. No more maybe next times. We play their game, we lose. You hear me?”

You nodded. You didn’t trust your voice not to shake.

He looked up then. Met your gaze dead on. The light in the kitchen caught in his irises, a faint, simmering red just beneath the blue. Not bright. Not threatening. Just there. Alive.

“Which means,” he continued, more gently now, “you’re not gonna be here tomorrow night.”

That made you blink. “What?”

“I want you out the house. Just for a few hours. Somewhere comfortable. I’ll make sure your ride’s arranged. I don’t care if it’s the theatre or a restaurant. Hell, spend it with friends if you want.”

You didn’t have any of those yet.

He knew that.

Still, his tone didn’t waver.

“I just need the place. Need it quiet. I don’t want you hearin’ what might be said.”

His fingers grazed your wrist, his thumb brushing along your pulse. You leaned back, just slightly, the movement slow. Measured. Testing.

“What are you gonna say?”

His expression didn’t change. Not even a flicker. “Enough.”

That was all he gave you.

And somehow, it was enough.

He kissed your temple then. Just once.

The kiss wasn’t sweet.

It was solemn.

Like a promise.

Like a man setting something in motion.

And you, sitting in his lap with your arms around his shoulders and your pulse kicking hard against your ribs, believed him. Felt something shifting under your skin.

A current.

A warning.

You’d seen Remmick angry before. Seen the quiet tension in his jaw when someone spoke over you. The cold way he looked at men who looked too long. The clipped tone when a stylist suggested straightening your hair or brightening your skin.

But not like this.

Not cold. Not still.

This wasn’t bluster.

It was a verdict.

You pressed your forehead to his, and he closed his eyes like the touch settled something in him. His fingers slid slowly along the small of your back. He didn’t squeeze. Didn’t grip.

He just held.

Quiet and firm.

And somewhere, under all your nerves, you felt that same fire rise too.

Because he was right.

This was your cover.

And they didn’t get to decide otherwise.

Not anymore.

cont'd.

#remmick #sinners movie #remmick sinners #sinners 2025 #remmick x you #remmick x reader #remmick smut #smut #jack o'connell #remmick x black!reader #remmick x black!fem!reader #black!fem!reader #black!reader #sinners #click cont'd CLICK CONT'D

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mochieekittenz · 2 days ago

Text

Hold Me After

cw: p*ssy eating, (not so) dry humping, thighf*cking

character(s): caleb x f!reader (smut, fluff)

aaaaand before we begin! thank you so much for all the love on my last Sylus post — your comments, reblogs, and general interactions absolutely made my week. You guys are insane in the best way, and I adore you for it!! <3 It makes me genuinely so happy seeing people enjoying my work because I try to put my everything in it

THIS FIC is brought to you by my sleep deprivation and the ghost of my dignity. Warning! This is 90% my Caleb obsession and 10% me desperately trying to keep up. I take no refunds. Proceed with caution and enjoy! :>

──★ ˙

It was summer — Last year of highschool

The school year was practically over. Graduation was just a few weeks away, and for the first time in ages, the idea of “what comes next” didn’t make your stomach twist with anxiety — it actually excited you. You were done with the routine, the crowded hallways, same questions, same answers. There was something thrilling about the thought of stepping into the world on your own terms.

You’d always dreamed of that moment. Of being your own person, following your own rhythm. It should’ve been exciting. You were ready for it — or at least you told yourself that.

But the truth was, independence didn’t always feel like freedom. It felt like silence, sometimes. Like boredom. Like being left behind.

It also meant change. Real change.

Especially when it came to Caleb

You used to see him every day. He was your partner in crime. A best friend, someone with you didn’t have to pretend anything. You knew each other too well for that. You shared the same roof, same stories, the same stupid inside jokes that could only build after years of proximity.

He’d tease you, you’d mock him, you’d steal food off each other’s plates, pinch eachother, even argue at some times. The unstoppable bickering between you two was a no stranger.

It was simple like that

But now? Now everything felt…grown-up. Fragile. Like if you said the wrong thing, you’d ruin the balance.

He’d started college — aviation. He was chasing clouds while you were stuck finishing essays and pretending high school still mattered. And Caleb changed — not drastically, but in little ways that stung. He spoke differently now, carried himself with a quiet kind of confidence. He was sharper. More thoughtful. His voice deeper, his face leaner. There was still the same warmth when he smiled at you, still the same teasing edge — but something else, too. Something you couldn’t name without feeling stupid for noticing.

He was visiting you and grandma as much as he could, when he wasn't heavy with his responsibilities, like now — early June when holidays were almost there. When the sense of nostalgia filled the air and made everything rush back to you.

However — Today the house was still. Caleb had been out all day, catching up with old friends he hadn't seen since winter. Dinner was long over. Grandma had gone to bed early with one of her crime novels. You were laying on your bed, freshly showered and still warm from the steam, your hair damp against the back of your neck. The heat had lingered even after sunset, turning your small room into a suffocating bubble of humid air and sticky skin. An old fan clattered weakly at the foot of your bed, doing more noise than good.

It was too hot to think. Too hot to sleep. You lay on your stomach, chin propped on the pillow, staring at your phone screen and scrolling through the same posts, fingers moving out of habit more than interest. Pictures. Videos. Nothing new. You were bored out of your mind.

That restless kind of bored that made your skin feel too tight. That kind of bored that made you itch for something, anything to feel.

You sighed heavily and locked your phone, you let it rest on your chest, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness. It was so hot. It was so fucking hot.

It felt ridiculous. But your body wouldn’t settle, no matter how many positions you tried, no matter how many apps you opened and closed again.

There was nothing to do

There was no one to talk to

And you couldn’t stop thinking about Caleb

Not in that way. Not…like that.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But he’d been so different lately. Distant, quieter. Still kind, still Caleb — you caught him looking at you sometimes. Not in a way that you could call out. Just…a second too long. A flick of the eyes when you weren’t wearing a bra under your tank top, or you were wearing something shorter. You never wanted to admit it to yourself, you never let such thoughts even cross your mind — You felt bad about it.

But on the other hand.

You weren’t stupid

You noticed the way his eyes flicked away the instant you met his gaze, like he was caught but unwilling to admit it. That brief pause, that half-smile that never quite reached his eyes. It made your heart both race and ache, all at once.

Your legs shifted, thighs pressing together. You exhaled slowly through your nose. Your hand moved to rest on your abdomen, fingers mindlessly fumbling with a string of your sleep shorts.

It was dumb

But you can still feel it — the way he looked at you, those barely-there glances that never failed to set that weird sensation in your stomach. It made your skin tingle in the worst way possible. Your heartbeat quickens just at the thought of it, a slow, taunting ache blossoming inside you.

Without really thinking, your fingers twitch at your waistband. Your hand drifts, almost hypnotically, sliding underneath the soft fabric of your shorts.

Not because of him. Of course not. He was just a passing thought.

A shiver runs up your spine as your fingers press gently against your underwear. The touch is light at first, a delicate tease as your fingertips trace the smoothness of your panties. You feel the faint heat beneath, a warmth you hadn’t fully acknowledged until this very moment. It makes every nerve in you ignite.

With an heavy exhale you begin to circle your fingers. Your touch slow at first, barely there. Just enough to make your body tense, to make your hips lift slightly into your own hand. Your other hand gripped the sheets. Your breath stuttering. The world outside faded, leaving only the uneven rhythm of your breath and the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

Your mind drifts again, tangled in fantasies of what those looks might mean — what might possibly happen if you dared to meet his gaze and hold it.

And you imagine his voice.

Low

Breathy

Over your ear

Saying your name the way he doesn’t.

Just a passing thought. Yeah

You press harder, your fingers finding that perfect spot over your underwear, that little bump covered by the fabric, rubbing in gentle, measured circles. The friction — the pressure — it’s not enough, but it’s a good start.

You know this won’t take long

Not when your body already knows what it’s chasing. Not when you’ve been carrying this heat all day, pretending it wasn’t there.

You bite your lip, trying to keep quiet, a soft sigh escapes. Your legs part a little wider, giving your fingers more room to move, pressing harder, faster.

Your whole body is flushed, caught in that delicious, desperate chase. You catch the inside of your cheek with your teeth. And just as your thighs started to tremble—

...

Click

The door swings open

Caleb.

You freeze

"Hey pipsqueak, I've—" you can swear that his face just went through at least 15 emotions, all at once.

....

"Shit...Sorry—"

You lay wide eyed. Heart hammering. Hand still buried under your shorts, caught in motion.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He didn't knock — because he never had to knock — and now there he is — Caleb. Standing in the doorway, just like he’s always done, comfortable, casual — except this time, he had seen everything.

In one frantic motion, you yanked the sheets over your hips, sitting upright so fast your head spun.

“Jesus—Caleb, knock—!” you blurted out, voice breaking somewhere between anger and panic.

He had seen.

“I—fuck,” he stammered, eyes darting to the floor, but he didn’t step back, didn’t shut the door.

“I didn’t know — I thought you—"

“Y-you were supposed to be out—" you muttered, your voice strangled.

“I was. But I left my charger in your room,” he whispered, voice low and ragged. “Didn’t think…”

....

Your skin prickled. Your heart wouldn’t slow down, no matter how hard you tried.

“…didn’t think I’d walk in on you doing that.”

You swallowed hard, chest heaving.

“W-Well—congrats. You did. So—"

He still stood there, caught like he’d stepped into a dream he wasn’t sure was real. His gaze raked over you—slowly, like it hurt to look and hurt more to stop.

You both stared at each other, locked in the kind of silence that stretches forever. He didn’t move. Didn’t leave. And for the first time, you saw something in his expression that wasn’t brotherly at all.

Something else flickered there — a shift you didn’t know what to do with.

His gaze was too steady. It made your stomach clench. You saw the way he shifted his weight, the way his hands curled and uncurled at his sides. You were both hovering on the edge of something irreversible.

“Were you...gonna finish?” His voice was quieter now, lower. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just… raw.

What. The. Fuck

"Wha-...C-Caleb, what are you—"

“You were gonna finish, right?” he asked again. “When I walked in?”

The way he said it — not teasing, not cocky. Just…careful. Wanting. So painfully full of restraint it almost hurt.

Your eyes were like two red coals, Caleb never saw such desperation on your face, he really did done something to you. As if this insane desire was matching up to his own - long suppressed one.

“I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie.”

You looked at him and you didn’t even knew what to say anymore.

He ran a hand through his hair. He was flushed — from frustration. Confusion. Something messier.

You swallowed, your face turned crimson by now.

“Caleb—”

“Please...Tell me what you were thinking about.”

You shook your head, your eyes dropping to the floor.

“Tell me,” he said again, quieter.

“I… I don’t…”

"Please. I need to know." he groaned as if he was going through some kind of pain

You couldn't find your voice at this moment.

Caleb took a nervous second of look back, then clicked the door shut gently, the sound barely audible. He paused, motionless, as if weighing his next move. Then, with slow, deliberate steps, he approached the bed and crouched beside it.

“Did I ever cross a line with you pipsqueak?” he asked. “Ever made you uncomfortable?”

“I...No.” you shook your head.

“Then tell me the truth.”

You bit your lip, eyes cast down.

“Were you thinking about me?”

You were silent, but the corner of your eye twitched. That was everything he had to know.

And he breathed out like if you had just knocked the air from his chest.

Caleb's heart raced, pounding against his ribs like a drum. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. You, touching yourself, thinking about him? It was everything he had ever fantasized about and more. But it was also so, so wrong.

He swallowed hard, trying to push down the dark, depraved thoughts that flooded his mind. He couldn't think about you like that.

“…Shit. Please don't do this to me." he exhaled heavily.

His voice was low, like it barely made it out of his throat. Like he regretted the question even as he asked it.

You didn’t know where to look. You couldn’t meet his eyes. Your thighs squeezed together and it only made it worse.

He knew he should put a stop to this conversation right now, should push you away and pretend he had never heard your confession. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't bring himself to deny you, to deny himself the chance to be close to you in a way he had always secretly dreamed of.

He was too fucking selfish, too consumed by his own dark desires to do what was right.

“I was trying so hard not to be a sick fuck. So hard.” his face was washed with something you've never seen before. His hand moved out, intertwining his fingers with yours. He swallowed. Hard. His eyes flicked up to your face.

"I'm trying to be good , pipsqueak...I really am. But I don’t know what the fuck we are anymore.” he muttered. ”And do you?”

Your fingers curled tighter around his as you were watching how your hands connected.

“I…” your voice came out small. “I don’t know.”

Caleb exhaled through his nose, eyes shutting like he was trying to keep something inside from spilling out. But it was already too late for that.

“I keep thinking it’s just a phase,” he said. “That I’ll get over it. That it’ll pass.”

His eyes met yours, and they were haunted. Desperate.

“But then you look at me like that. All wide-eyed. Like you’re scared of me. Like...you don't know me? Or worse — like you’re curious.”

Your eyelashes fluttered, your eyes taking in every inch of expressions that were washing over his face at this very moment.

“I hate myself for it. For all of it.” he continued

“I’m not...—proud of what I thought,” he admitted. “Of what I felt. Of the things I imagined when I was alone.” you could swear that his eyes were freaking glossed as he rambled.

"Caleb..."

“I'm so sorry pips. But...I just— I don’t think I can play pretend to be your good proper brother anymore. It's driving me batshit crazy. I’ve been swallowing it down for so long. Every glance. Every goddamn brush of your skin against mine. And it’s—it’s eating me alive.”

He stared at you like he needed you to hate him. Or need him back.

“I don’t want to be this guy,” he said. “I really fucking don’t…”

He moved closer, forehead pressing against the edge of the mattress like it physically hurt to hold back.

“If you tell me to leave, I swear to God I will. I’ll walk out that door and never bring this up again.” his voice came out a muffled desperation.

“But if there’s even a part of you… that feels this too…Then please. Let me stop pretending.”

You felt your throat tighten, the words caught somewhere between fear and fire.

“I…I thought I was crazy.”

He stilled. Moving his face up to look at you.

“I thought...it was just me,” you whispered. “The looks. The way my stomach would flip when you’d come into my room—” you felt your eyes starting to sting, you bit your lip to prevent your emotions from showing. Caleb was watching your face silently.

“I...I hated it. Hated...how wrong it felt. How wrong I felt. But you were always so calm. So normal. Like it didn’t even cross your mind. And I figured it was just me being…sick.”

“No,” he said instantly. “God, no, baby—”

“I know,” you whispered. “Now I know.”

Your fingers curled around his.

He was silent, his eyes bright as all the stars brought together. His lips were parted slightly, as If he couldn't believe his own ears. He swallowed and exhaled through his nose, rising slightly on his knees.

"Can I...Can I kiss you?—"

“Yes.” your response came faster than you could think. You thought about it. Fuck you thought about it so many times, even if you wouldn't admit it to yourself.

His breath shuddered. He leaned in slowly, as if he was giving you every second to back out. But he never found any hesitation.

He closed the distance. His lips brushed yours like he was testing the idea of a kiss, not taking it. Feather-light, his breath trembling over your plushy lips.

You made a small, aching sound in the back of your throat — not even a word. Just need.

And that was it.

He pressed his lips against yours. He kissed you, this time real. His hand curled into the sheets near your hip, still not daring to touch your skin, but his mouth moved over yours like he was starving for it. Like kissing you was a sin and a salvation all at once. You whimpered against him, your lips parting, and he groaned into your mouth like the sound had been ripped straight from his chest.

Your hand reached up blindly, curling into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer with a breathless little noise you couldn’t hold back. That was all it took for him to lose the last of his control.

He deepened the kiss — not harsh, but needy, hungry in a way that felt like it had been building for years. And you kissed him back — shy, nervous, a pure instinct.

As if driven by some quiet courage you didn’t know you had, your free hand found his wrist. You squeezed it gently.

He pulled away to catch his breath, his eyes flicked open, searching yours — surprised but not pulling away.

Slowly, hesitantly, you guided his hand downward, until his palm rested against your inner thigh. You held his hand there for a heartbeat, your heart hammering in your chest like a drum. And then, with a trembling breath, you guided it further.

Right between your legs.

Caleb froze for a second — his breath caught in his throat. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked at you with something fierce and tender all at once.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, voice rough and barely controlled.

You nodded, cheeks flushing hotter than before.

He shuddered and leaned back towards you. He started to plant soft kisses over your jaw, sliding down to your neck. He nuzzled his nose into your collarbone, letting out a shaky breath as he let his fingers fumble underneath your sleep shorts.

His breath caught — sharp and audible — and for a second, his whole body visibly shuddered.

“Holy—…” he whispered, voice cracking in his throat.

His fingers pressed gently against the dampness soaking through the thin cotton, like he couldn’t believe what he was feeling. You squirmed, your face twisting slightly as you felt his fingertips grazing your panties.

“You’re—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “Fuck, you're soaked..”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his face flushed, lips parted, chest rising like he couldn’t catch his breath.

“You got like this… just from touching yourself?” he asked, eyes searching yours, stunned and wrecked.

You nodded, shy but unable to lie.

His fingers kept moving slowly over the soaked fabric, each drag making you twitch beneath him. It was maddening — warm, steady pressure just shy of what you needed, and you couldn’t stop the quiet, aching sounds spilling from your throat.

Caleb was staring at your face like he was watching something sacred. His jaw was tight, eyes wild, and his lips hovered just inches from yours — close enough that you could feel every shaky breath.

You whimpered, hand fisting the sheets beside you.— like the sound was dragged out of your chest without permission. Your eyebrows pulled together.

His breath caught again — like every sound you made hit him straight in the chest.

“You’re already shaking,” he murmured, voice rough. “And I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

Your breath shook — a sharp, broken sound that made his whole body jolt.

“I can feel you through them,” he rasped, fingers teasing along the edges of your panties. “You’re so wet I could probably taste it through the fucking fabric.”

You squirmed. His mouth found your ear, he kissed it slowly, reverently, as his thumb dragged down the soaked center of your underwear once more — slower this time.

“I’m...trying to go slow,” he murmured against your earlobe, words hot and wet against your skin. “Trying not to scare you. But, fuck, pipsqueak…”

He groaned, soft and strangled, his hand pausing again.

“You feel like this and expect me to be normal?”

You shifted, thighs twitching around his wrist, and his fingers twitched in response — a helpless reflex.

“God, pips… I’m so hard right now.”

He swallowed hard, eyes dark and desperate.

“I swear, it’s like my cock’s about to burst.”

He leaned downwards. His lips found the corner of your mouth, moving down to jaw, then your neck — slow, open-mouthed kisses dragging down every inch of your skin. You whimpered uncontrollably.

“You have to be quiet,” he murmured, barely above a whisper, “Because if Gran' hears, we’re both fucked.”

Caleb’s hand massaged you for a moment longer, trembling with every touch — before he slowly pulled back, his eyes dark and searching. His fingers hooked under the hem of your shorts, sliding them slowly down you.

You swallowed hard, cheeks flushing even more, caught between embarrassment and want

“I hate that you couldn’t finish… because I walked in. I’m gonna make it up to you,” he vowed, voice desperate but soft. “I promise.”

“I want to do this right,” he whispered, voice low, rough with need. “I want to make sure you feel everything — all of it.”

Caleb stripped your shorts off with practiced ease, the fabric pooling at your ankles. He dropped to his knees beside the bed again, hands firm as they slid beneath you, pulling your hips to the edge with a quiet hunger. His breath hitched, eyes locked on the darkened center of your underwear, his pupils wide with want. He wetted his lips slowly, gaze flicking up to meet yours — a silent question, or maybe...just maybe — a promise. He leaned in.

His mouth found you through the damp fabric, a low hum escaping him immediately as he kissed you there. His nose grazed against you as he breathed in, savoring the scent of your arousal. You gasped softly, hips jerking upward in response, and his eyes didn’t leave yours for a second — dark, burning, and full of intention.

”H-Hah...Caleb—" you whined out

He lingered there, lips pressing to the soaked fabric as if testing your patience — or his own. He exhaled a shaky breath, then slowly, deliberately, let the tip of his tongue drag along the dampness, tasting you through the thin barrier. His hands gripped your hips tighter as he let out a low sound of approval, the vibrations humming against you.

His mouth moved with purpose now — no longer tentative, but hungry, sure of the effect he had on you. His tongue traced slow, deliberate circles, then flicked with precision, alternating rhythm and pressure in a way that made your thighs tense around him.

Your face twisted with that kind of pleasure — that you didn't even knew could exist - until now of course.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured into you, his voice breaking on the edge of awe. “You taste so sweet… I need—” his breath caught, “—I need to make you cum…"

And with agonizing slowness, he hooked his fingers under the edge of your underwear, his fingers tracing the lacy frill that was already soaked by your arousal. He lifted his eyes to yours once again — a silent pause, waiting for your permission, your surrender. When he saw it, he pushed the fabric aside, baring you to his heated gaze.

"Gods—You're so...pretty, pipsqueak."

He took his time, as if memorizing every detail, before leaning in again. This time, there was no hesitation. His tongue met you fully — wet and hot — It made your hips jerk up harshly, your hand flew to cover your mouth. Fuck and the whine he made...was pure need. Each drag of his tongue was hurried, worshipful, drawing a gasp from your nose as your body arched into his mouth. You couldn't blame him, he waited for so long after all. He held you there, pinned by the weight of his hunger, devouring every reaction with his mouth, his breath, his eyes.

You shivered like you've never did before. A bead of sweat rolled down your back. Your fingers found his hair, threading through the soft strands, pulling instinctively as your hips arched toward his mouth. He responded with a low growl, gripping your thighs tighter, holding you open, guiding you exactly how he wanted you — nowhere to run, nothing to do but feel.

His lips sealed around your clit. Tongue closed around the delicate bud, flicking and teasing with maddening precision, the tip of his tongue blessing it with kitten licks, sending shockwaves of fire straight to your core.

"C-Caleb, I-I can't—" you whimpered over your hand.

“I wanted to get my hands on you...for so long...” he stammered, then sucked — hard. His lips locked tight around your clit like he was trying to drink the years of longing straight from your body.

”I...I just wanted to do this to you...” his fingers stroked your thighs, tender but desperate, like he couldn’t decide whether to hold you or worship you.

“You don’t get it,” he gasped against your heat. “You don’t fucking get it. I’ll ruin myself for this. For you. I’ll tear myself apart. I’ll fall on my knees, I’ll beg, I’ll fucking crawl. I'll do anything you ask me for—"

He whined like a damn puppy. It was cute — in it's own way, but so fucking sick and twisted at the same time.

“Can’t believe you’ve been walkin’ around with this between your legs…and I couldn’t touch it,” he whispered raggedly, kissing your inner thighs, his voice cracking like he was close to crying. “All those nights thinking about it. Thinking about you—how you’d taste. How you’d sound.”

He groaned like it hurt to say it, to feel it, to taste it. His fingers trembled slightly as he spread your folds open, almost like he was afraid you’d disappear if he wasn’t careful. He pressed his tongue flat against you and dragged it up with aching precision, then locked eyes with you again, pupils blown wide.

You try to hold back, to stay quiet, but the tight, uncontrollable squeeze inside you betrays your will. Your hole contracts reflexively — even though there’s nothing inside, it clenches around empty air, like it’s already craving him, already hungry for the fullness you know only he can give. Your hips buck upwards sharply, and he pulls you by your hips even harder.

“Shit...please. Please just...use my...—Use my face.”

You swear you could feel your eyes almost rolling back your skull. A single tear rolled down your cheek — From the immaculate pleasure you couldn't comprehend. Your body shuddered, hips jerking instinctively as he devoured you, tongue pressing harder, driving you closer to the edge. You grind into his mouth, desperate, needy, gone — and he doesn’t stop. He won’t stop. He’s slurping you up through the edge, into it, past it — until your vision whites out and your body forgets how to do anything but come, violently, endlessly, wrecked on his tongue.

As soon as you whine out into your clasped over your mouth hand — you feel him stiffen. A strangled cry — half a whine, half a gasp — ripped from Caleb’s throat. His whole body tensed like he’d been shocked, a sharp ache crossing his face.

“Fuck—” he gasped, pulling back slightly, breathing heavy, a flush spreading across his cheeks.

You froze, heart pounding, eyes wide.

”C-Caleb? What's...What's wrong?" you breathed out harshly, still struggling to compose yourself.

Before you could ask more, he shook his head, swallowing hard, voice hoarse and embarrassed. “I… I just… came,” he gasps out, breath ragged.

Came from freaking watching you come. Fucked.

A flush rises to your cheeks, a mix of surprise and something tender swelling inside you. You didn’t expect this vulnerability, this raw honesty from him. It makes your heart skip, even as your body aches, still pulsing from the way he touched you.

“Caleb…” you whisper, voice soft but steady.

“I-I'm okay,” he whispered, voice trembling. He reached up to brush your sweat drenched bangs from your forehead.

“Fuck, it never happened to me before” Caleb huffed as if he couldn't believe himself. He swallowed hard, biting his lip as if to hold back something fierce. He pushed himself up and leaned over to press a kiss to your temple.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, voice rough but tender. “I didn’t mean for that to happen now. I just… I need you. Need you so much.” His hands trembled slightly as he reached for your panties. He gently pulled them back into place, like he was protecting you — even though inside he was burning up with need. You furrowed your eyebrows in question.

“I don’t deserve to touch you bare—not yet.” he explained. Then, without breaking eye contact, he slid his hand down to the front of his pants and freed himself.

You saw him — like really saw him for the first time. Your breath hitched. That was this moment, a flicker of time when everything else fades away. His cock was still hard and pulsing, it was something you’d imagined a thousand times, but nothing could prepare you for the reality of it.

Your eyes traced every line, every vein, the way it throbbed with need. The heavines of his arousal was suffocating. You felt a flush creeping up your neck, your heart pounding as a mixture of excitement, nervousness, and something almost like awe washed over you. It was bigger than you expected, powerful and alive, and seeing it like that—so close, so exposed—made your skin tingle all over.

For a heartbeat, his confident, desperate facade cracked, and a flicker of fear passed through his gaze. Were you scared? Did he push too hard, too fast? There was a flicker of worry in his eyes, like the intensity of your stare unsettled him more than you realized. “If you’re… if you’re scared, I get it. I just—”

“No,” you breathed, voice shaky but sure. “I’m not scared.”

He still didn’t move. His hands hovered, frozen in the space between reaching and retreating. You saw how tightly his jaw was clenched, the way his brows pulled together like he was bracing for rejection.

“I’ve just… never seen one in real life before,” you said quietly, eyes flicking down, then back up to meet his. Your cheeks burned. “And it’s… bigger than I thought.”

Silence.

Caleb’s entire body tensed like you’d hit him with something physical. His jaw dropped a little. His eyes went wide — stunned — and then something deep, guttural escaped his chest, like the sound was ripped from him. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, voice breaking as his hand flew up to cover his mouth, like he was physically trying to hold back whatever that did to him.

You could see it — the way his stomach tightened, the way his cock twitched, visibly, painfully. His knees almost buckled.

"I'm gonna lose it..." he groaned.

He moved slowly, but with purpose — stepping back into your space, his hands curling tight around your thighs. He didn’t rush. Instead, he pressed himself against you—through the thin fabric of your panties—his desperate need to feel you flooding every inch of his body. The thick, hot head of his cock found the damp center of your panties, and you both sucked in a breath at the same time.

"A-Ahh—...Caleb–" you hitched sharply.

He let out a deep, broken groan as he rocked his hips forward — slowly, like he was trying to savor every millimeter of friction. The tip of his cock dragged along your soaked fabric, sliding right through the heat of your folds. He hissed, forehead falling against your shoulder, like the sensation alone had him unraveling again. His hand moved down to his own cock, fingers wrapping around the thick shaft, stroking hard and steady while he pressed himself into you.

“Your clit… fuck, it’s right here,” he whispered breathlessly, dragging the tip of his cock over the wettest spot he could find through the fabric.

You whimpered. He whimpered too, his control fraying with every slow stroke. Your body reacted instinctively, thrusting forward as if desperate to chase that burning touch, though you didn’t even understand how just panty-rubbing could fuck with your head this hard.

You couldn’t handle it. The urge to reach out, to pull him closer, to feel him pressed against you in a way that wasn’t just teasing, was unbearable. You let out a soft moan, your hands twitching, craving contact.

Caleb caught it immediately. Of course he did. He was watching your face more than anything in this world. It was always like that. Even when you two were still kids. He always wanted to catch every emotion, to know if you were scared, shy, uncomfortable — It became a habit of his own. Without hesitation, he shifted, moving over you until he was hovering, chest pressing down on yours gently, his heavy breaths mingling with yours.

He kissed you fiercely, lips claiming yours in a hunger that matched the ache between your thighs. His hands slid down to your legs, wrapping around your thighs with a gentle grip.

“Squeeze your thighs for me,” he murmured against your lips, voice thick with desperate need.

You looked at him strangely for a moment but without thinking about it for too long — you pressed your thighs together. And Caleb not wasting his time, guided himself between your legs — Slowly, carefully.

You saw his cock sliding out from between your thighs, looking straight at you, making your breath hitch. Your eyes flicked up at him as your teeth tortured your lower lip. He held your eyes as he began to thrust—not inside you, but between your thighs, grinding firm and steady. The fabric of your panties stretched and slickened under the pressure.

Caleb groaned deep in his throat. His hands roamed your body, holding at your hips as he continued to thrust between your thighs, hips rolling in needy circles, desperate for every inch of your warmth. His mouth claimed yours again, kissing fiercely, tongue exploring with a desperate hunger that matched the relentless grinding below.

“Gods—...you're so soft here pipsqueak..." he muttered over your lips as he pulled away to rest his sweaty forehead over yours.

You whined a little bit, trying to keep your noises mindful. Your eyes were locked down on your closed thighs. The sight of his hardness vanishing and reappearing between your plushy flesh was making your head spin.

"S-Squeeze them tighter..." he choked out, your eyes flicked up to his face, watching it closely.

You clenched your thighs harder, grinding up a bit to help his cock catch onto your clothed folds better. And when you did that — the look on his face was absolutely everything. His face scrunched in pleasure, eyebrows drew up together, he looked as if he was about to cry — at least.

It was that easy for you to make him lose his mind.

”Shiiiit...Just like that—Good girl.” the nickname made something ugly churn in your stomach. He used to call you that earlier. Many times. Like when you got a good grade on your test, or when you achieved something he knew you could do. But now? It was an entirely different thing — and it made you mewl.

”You're making so much noise pips, you're some kind of pervert?...” he chuckled softly, even though his breath was ragged and he was clutching his self control tightly.

"S-Shut up..." you squirmed, your hand pushing at his shoulder.

”Don't get your panties in a twist pipsqueak...I always knew you liked when I called you that — You used to be fishing for my praise, y'know?...”

"I-I wasn't—"

"You were. No need to hide it pips...I think it was cute — it still is, if you ask me..." he snorted softly, laughing through his nose.

Then he groaned, his hips speeding up in it's moves. Your sweaty thighs slapping together.

"Ah...Fuck...” he hissed, taking a shaky inhale.

”You know, pipsqueak...I think, that you've always liked my attention on you.”

His hand sank down, to press himself better over your underwear as he fucked your thighs. You whined, and he smiled. Fucker.

”When you were younger you always found your way to have my eyes on you. You were pinching me, biting, kicking, stealing my stuff, showing off...” he huffed, his eyes closing as he tried to keep himself at the bay.

”But now when you got older, you understood some things...You know what I mean, yeah?"

You squirmed as the head of his cock firmly rubbed over your center with each thrust.

"N-No—"

”You know.”

He leaned down to your ear, placing a hot kiss over it.

”When you started to understand how to rile me up in a much better way — Like...You stopped wearing a bra whenever I was around. Those teasing touches when we would watch a movie together. When you—Ah...Shit—When you would tickle me because you knew I wouldn't put my hands on you anymore....You can tell yourself that you didn't know what you were doing, but deep down you know you wanted me to notice. You're not stupid, and i'm not stupid either.”

”Caleb—” a shiver rippled down your spine as he murmured into your ear. Not only from how close he was, but because of how right he was. You were losing it fairly.

”You're not going to shy away now, are you?” he scoffed, his hips slapped foward, making noise. He let out a shaky moan.

"Fuck i'm so close already..." he muttered over your earlobe, your fingers tightened on his shoulder, your eyebrows drawing together, overwhelmed from the friction. He moved his thumb to press his tip strictly over you.

"Y-You feel, too good...I can— Feel...How wet you are...It's doing things to me that you won't understand.”

You let our a shaky breath and moved to wrap your arms around him. You needed him close in this moment, heart to heart. Your thighs started to tremble as he rubbed against you, that similar ache blooming deep inside you once more, it was all purely for him, only for him.

"Gonna cum baby?..." he caught onto it immediately, his efforts doubled.

You choked down a moan and nodded, your back arching subtly as you bucked up to meet his delicious movements.

"H-Hah...You gonna cum with me, okay?..." he breathed over your skin. Everything was becoming dizzy so fast. Your eyes closing, all of your senses heightened.

You felt — Everything

Starting from the way his ragged breath shook over your ear, how your slick with sweat bodies slid against eachother as if they were meant to be together, the squelching noises you two were creating, the subtle slaps that eachoed through the walls of your suffocating room when he pressed close. It was so much. It was beautiful, because it was you and him, just like it should always be.

You begin to feel a knot after knot, tying down in your abdomen. Your thighs clamp instinctively, you grip tighter around Caleb as if holding onto the very source of your rising pleasure. The friction builds relentlessly, a delicious torment that tightens your belly and curls your toes. You can feel the muscles deep inside your pussy, contracting and relaxing in an involuntary rhythm — trembling with the power of what’s coming.

Your breath hitches and stutters, uneven and quick, like you’re struggling to catch the air that keeps slipping away. Caleb's hands clutch at your hips, fingers digging into your skin as if trying to hold you close forever. His jaw clenches tight, muscles taut as he fights to keep himself together, but the heat is overwhelming—too intense to control. He breathes deeply against your lips, his eyes squeezed shut.

”Cum for me...P-Please cum for me..." he whines, his face contorting. He's almost there. And so are you.

Just as the wild surge of pleasure begins to shatter your control, your breath catching in ragged gasps, Caleb moves with urgent purpose — he closes the distance, his lips crashing over yours in a fierce, searing kiss that shuts down any cry before it can escape.

And there it is.

You squeeze your eyes shut, Caleb swallowing every single of your moan, and so you are his. Your whole vision went blank as your thighs shook off the stimulation. Pure bliss washing over your body.

You feel the wave of his own orgasm wash over him—hot, intense, overwhelming. His body shakes and his hips stutter — his essence spurting out over the place where you meet, a testament to the fire you’ve ignited together. He elongates the kiss before pulling back from your lips to catch his breath.

The silence afterward feels sacred. Caleb is still above you, but there’s no urgency now. His body is trembling, his chest still heaving, but his hands… his hands are soft. Careful. Like he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t keep holding on.

And he kisses you. Once on your temple. Then your cheek. The corner of your lips. Reverent, unhurried. His touch glides from your hips to your stomach, slowing with each stroke, like he’s trying to calm your body and his at the same time.

“A-Are you okay?” he whispers finally, voice still hoarse with what just happened, but gentler

You don’t answer right away. Just a small nod, soft, but there’s that tiny smile — faint, tender, a little dazed — And it makes his heart melt.

Without a word, he reached over and pulled the hem of his shirt up, tugging it off of him, careful not to disturb you. The fabric was soft against your skin as he pressed it lightly against your lower stomach, where a few stray marks of his release still glistened. His touch was delicate, almost hesitant, as if afraid to break the fragile quiet between you.

”I'm sorry i've made a mess...” he muttered

You shook your head to reassure him. ”We are even.”

He raised his eyes to you and a bashful smile blossomed on his face. He gently swiped the fabric across your skin, wiping away every trace with a tenderness that made your heart squeeze. It wasn’t just about cleaning—there was a sacredness in the way he cared for you, in how he always cared for you.

“I got you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

You felt the weight of those three words, how much they meant for you, coming from him — gentle and devoted.

He discarded his dirty shirt somewhere on the floor without a care in the world. He reached beneath you, sliding his hands to the edges of your underwear. His fingers trembled just slightly as he carefully pulled them down your legs, his gaze never leaving your face. You feel no shame here, only a profound tenderness as he helps you shed the last remnants of the night’s intensity. He folded them neatly and set them aside — mentally noting to wash them tommorow. Then leaned down to kiss the soft curve of your hip, his lips warm and soothing against your skin.

He moved up, letting himself slump beside you. Intertwining your hands together — As if he has to know you're here, that you're not just a speck of his imagination. His thumb moved slowly over the back of your soft hand, he pulled it up to press a gentle kiss over your knuckles.

Your breathing slows in unison. The chaos of earlier melts into a soft hum beneath your skin. You don’t speak for a long moment, because there’s no pressure to fill the silence. It’s the kind of quiet that only comes when you’re held by someone who sees you—truly sees you—and stays anyway.

Eventually, Caleb lets out a quiet laugh.

“What?” you murmur, turning your head to look at his side profile.

“I don’t know,” he says, exhaling slowly. “I just… I feel like I waited forever for this. And now that it happened, I keep thinking I’ll wake up. Like maybe I fell asleep on the couch while you were ignoring me and now I’m dreaming the whole damn thing.”

You shift, lifting your chin slightly to meet his eyes. “You’re not dreaming, Caleb.”

He smiles, and it’s soft. His thumb traced the line of your knuckles. “If I was, though, I think I’d want to stay asleep.”

You nudge him playfully with your forehead. “That’s so corny.”

“Mm. You like it.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop smiling either.

He leans in and kisses you again—not hungrily this time, but with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. His lips move slow, reverent, and he pulls away just to whisper, “You look like a mess right now.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Caleb, you meanie.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You smile and nuzzle yourself into his lips. With a small, content sigh, he slid his arm around you, tugging you gently closer until there’s no space left between you. You feel his heartbeat thrumming against your back, steady and strong, and it grounds you deeper than any words ever could.

”Can you stay in my room for tonight?” you hummed softly.

”I wasn't exactly planning on leaving, y'know” he murmured quietly, amusement tugging at his voice

”Good.” you smiled to yourself

You both sink deeper into the bed, the softness of the sheets a gentle cradle beneath you. His cheek rests against the top of your head, his breath tickling your hair, his heartbeat a lullaby only you can hear. Your eyelids grow heavy, and a calmness unlike anything you’ve felt before settles over you.

You've never felt more at peace than you did now.

Just before sleep can pull you two under, Caleb’s arms tighten just a little, holding you closer as if to reassure you that he's here.

”I love you.”

That little whisper was everything you ever ached to hear. You didn't realize it until this very moment.

...

”I love you too.”

And in that shared silence, wrapped together in warmth, you both drifted gently into dreams. In his arms, you feel safe. Loved. Whole.

...

And now?

Now the change you were so scared of — turned out to not be bad at all.

Now It felt — Like home.

324 notes · View notes

heartyluv · 1 day ago

Text

Note: There’s something about a toxic Caleb who purposely got you pregnant just so he really has a way to stay in your life without you being able to find an excuse to keep him out of it…ANYWAYS, I originally just did headcanons for this idea, but my luvly @asiatic-apple requested—read here—a full fic of it and of course, I just had to. I hope you love it, babe. 🫶🏽

Creds to @/strangergraphics and @/omi-resources for the dividers!

Warning: Unprotected rough sex, Caleb is a walking threat, pussy slapping, he’s a little mean to you in this but it’s only because he’s so mad (calls you stupid once), he threatens to kill a man. I think that’s it LOLL

(!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!)

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: Caleb catches a man in your house when he checks on you through the cameras you never knew he installed. Long story short, he’s fucking pissed.

Possessive&ToxicBabyFather!Caleb/Reader

Caleb’s obsession and his questionable idea of love for you ran so deep that you’ll never really understand how far that man could go. There’s a lot he would do—he’d fight, he’d steal, he’d kill, he’d lie. He would do absolutely anything to ensure that he is the only person in this world that you’ll ever need. And in order for him to successfully be there to fulfill that role, he has to know what you’re doing and thinking before you even get the chance to attempt it.

It’s why when you moved to your place after you two had officially broken up, he came to visit you to not only scope it out, but to make sure he had your exact location. Even if you two weren’t labeled as a couple, in his eyes, you always would be. For him, he was just waiting until you got over yourself and let him come back into your life so he could be where he’s supposed to.

You blamed his obsessive and possessive behavior as well as his never-lacking tendency to overcrowd for why you called it quits despite all the years together. He didn’t argue, he knew he could be a lot. But he would never—could never, change that when it came to the woman he loved. So he let you have the fantasy of a life without him for a brief moment, but of course, it didn’t last.

He was there the first day you moved in, but once he learned that your daughter wasn’t there because she was with your parents while you set everything up, his original plan had gotten a whole lot easier. You were already tired from the move, so it was a simple task of him fucking you so deliciously until you curled yourself into him to sleep.

After making sure you were really knocked out, he carefully slipped out of the bed to do what he originally came for. Unbeknownst to you, he had set up several little cameras in places he knew you’d never find them. He meticulously placed the small black devices in locations he deemed best as you rested peacefully without any clue in the world.

Every day he’s checked on you. Every day he knew what you were getting ready to do. Every day he was there without you knowing.

But unfortunately, for the last few days, he hasn’t been able to see in on you or your baby girl Maven. Being a Colonel makes your baby father a busy man, so he has times where it could get like this and it was a time he always hated. If he wasn’t working while trying to fit in a meal, he was sleeping. There was never any time in between for him to even send you a text, let alone to view you on the cameras.

After the longest five days of his life though, he was back and ready to see his family.

He loved that despite all your attempts to act like you were tired of him, you could never resist making sure he was okay. When he went a whole two days without a peep from being so busy, you were blowing up his phone with text messages and phone calls with worry and concern. It’s things like that that kept him from leaving you alone. He knew that you were too intertwined for there to be any form of separation.

Once he got back into his poor excuse of an apartment—because any place without his woman and daughter would never be a home—he pulled out his phone to see how he was going to sneak up on you both today. He planned on making it a day all about you two; taking you out to eat, getting his girls whatever they, and spending the night because he knew you’d let him.

But when the live feed of your living room took up his screen and he saw you sitting at the dining room table with a fucking man—smiling, grinning, and drinking lemonade out of a cup he paid to put in your home—all that lovey dovey shit dried up.

Caleb had to squint to make sure he was seeing what he was looking at correctly. When the image never altered, he knew he wasn’t crazy. You really went against his word.

A man in your house. The one that he paid for because he vowed to always take care of you. The one he told you to never let anyone but him, family, and your daughter inside of.

That wasn’t going to do.

He watched for a few more minutes, tapping on the button to allow him to hear what was being said.

“…that’s cool. I didn’t know you had a kid.”

“Yeah,” you smiled, thinking of your baby girl. “She’s my everything, but that girl loves her dad.”

“Oh?” the man raised a brow. “He’s still around? I figured you were a single parent.”

“We’re not together. Technically,” you huff. “It’s complicated. But he’s very much present.”

We’re not together? Complicated?

The image of you begging him to go deeper when he bent you over the counter last week flashes across in his head. Have you lost your fucking mind?

He wasn’t going to sit here and listen to this shit anymore. The drive to your house that’s originally fifteen minutes? Caleb turned it into less than ten.

All you heard as you sat at the table and conversed with your next door neighbor was the loudest slamming sound of what you assumed to be a car door. You jumped a little at the sudden noise, looking at Ryker with the same amount of confusion as he was showing you.

But that confusion quickly shifted to shock when you heard the bangs on your front door.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

“Open the door,” Caleb commanded loudly on the other side as his fist continued to pummel the hard wood beneath his closed fist.

“Holy shit,” you shakily breathe, standing and looking at Ryker with sorrow. You had no clue Caleb was back and you didn’t know what was to happen, but you felt terrible for whatever it was about to be.

Ryker had saw you struggling to hang these new flower pots you bought for your porch, offering to help you out. You hesitated at first—you know why you did—but you figured it was harmless and Caleb wasn’t around for him to even know. With your daughter at school, you wouldn’t have to worry about her randomly bringing it up to her dad that some nice man helped her mommy.

After he hung the flowers, he watered them for you, and even whipped out his lawn mower to cut your grass. You knew this was his way of flirting, but you also knew better. Thankfully, you weren’t interested anyway, but had you been, you still wouldn’t pursue anything because of the type of man you have sex with at least twice a week.

But still, you couldn’t find it in your heart to just say thank you and send him on his way. It was supposed to be a quick cup of lemonade and some conversation.

With Caleb outside your door demanding entry, that wasn’t about to be the case anymore.

“Do you want me to answer it?” Ryker offered.

“If you knew who was on the other side, you wouldn’t be offering.” You pressed your lips together. “Just let me do the talking.”

Ryker nodded, watching you approach the door and close your eyes as if to brace yourself before opening it. Caleb pushed it open and despite the irritation on his handsome feautures, he looked so delectable.

A white tank top with black cargo pants and boots—it was simple, but simple was mouth watering on a man like him.

“I didn’t know you were back,” you speak up. Caleb’s eyes bore into Ryker’s before shifting to you.

“Why the fuck is he in here?” he says sharply. “You forget what I told you?”

You shake your head. “He’s just my neighbor, Caleb. He was helping me—”

“I help you,” he interjects. “Me. That’s my job.”

“Yeah, well you weren’t here and I didn’t know when you’d be back. It’s not even that serious, he was just getting ready t—”

Caleb quickly turns to grab you by the jaw. Not hard and not to hurt you—just to make you understand him.

“You like to make me mad, don’t you?” His eyes narrow as he stares you down. “Because you know I’d never hurt you, so you drive me to make me want to harm somebody else.”

Your heart races as he brushes his thumb against your bottom lip. And you know that your pussy shouldn’t be throbbing, but it is.

“That’s not true,” you say through clenched teeth. The tension rippling off you two is like static, ready to shock anyone who dares to get too close.

“Get out.” Caleb turns his head just enough so that Ryker knows he’s talking to him. “Or you could stay and watch me fuck her stupid, but then I’d have to kill you.”

“I don’t want any trouble, man,” Ryker raises his hands in defense.

“Yet you’re still here causing it.”

“Should I call somebody?” Ryker looks at you, completely ignoring Caleb for a moment. That’s what sets him off, but you’re grabbing him before he can throw the poor man across the neighborhood.

“Go ahead and make a call,” Caleb threatens. “We’ll see who’s quicker.”

“Ryker,” you say carefully, placing your hand to Caleb’s chest. “Just go. I’m fine—we’re fine.”

“Are you—”

“Do you not see who is trying to get his hands on you right now?!” you exclaim in disbelief. “Go.”

Finally regaining some sense, Ryker quickly walks past you two before slamming the front door shut after himself as he scurries off. And you have no time to say a word as Caleb picks you up with ease, making you yelp when you’re thrown over his shoulder.

“Maven’s in school?” he asks on his journey to your bedroom.

“Caleb, put me down!”

“Where’s my daughter?” He smacks your ass, making you cry out.

“Yes, she’s in school! I have to get her in like twenty minutes—Fuck, Caleb, would you stop and talk!?”

“I only need ten.”

He throws you down onto the soft mattress, pulling his shirt over his body as he stands between your legs. You try and crawl back to get off the bed, but he grabs your ankle to pull you toward the edge again.

“Now you want to run from me?” he tsks. “Has my absence made you stupid, baby?”

“You’re a dick,” you seethe, your jaw clenching. But your cunt is doing the same thing.

“Maybe I am,” he smirks. “But you’re about to be full of mine, so does any of it really matter?”

He spreads you open, yanking your shorts and panties down your legs with one rough pull. He whistles when he sees how wet you’ve gotten, how your slick coats your pussy lips just how he likes. Running his thumb down your slit without pushing inside, you think he’s preparing to fuck you with his thick fingers.

Instead, he slaps your cunt.

“Agh!” you scream, eyes wide as he holds you down by your waist.

“I shouldn’t even let you come,” he says flatly before delivering another smack. “Since you want to act like you have no fucking sense.”

You jolt, feeling the hot sting mark your flesh. When you try to close your legs instinctively, all Caleb has to do is look at you to tell you what he shouldn’t have to voice.

Don’t move.

“You’re lucky we need to get our daughter, pretty,” he coos, beginning to undo his belt as you remain spread for him. He gets his hard cock out, giving it a few pumps to make his precum seep out the flushed tip. “I would’ve taken my sweet time making you show me how sorry you are for pissing me off.”

Your hips buck, craving him inside you despite the ache settling from his hits on your sensitive pussy. You can’t resist him or his cock, ever. It’s embarrassing.

“Look at you,” he mocks, circling your clit with his tip to make you shudder. “So desperate for it every time. Just like you’re supposed to be.”

“Caleb, please,” you beg, not even finding it in yourself to be care anymore. “Please, fuck me. I’m sorry…”

“I know you are.” He slaps your pussy again with his cock this time and the heaviness of it against you makes you even wetter.

“Say it again.”

“I’m sorr—”. He spears you at the same time you tried to utter the pathetic apology. The way you mewl makes him pulse inside of you and you’re so wet that you can feel it cascade down your cunt and right beneath you onto the covers.

And there’s nothing slow, sweet, gentle, or patient about any of this. He holds your thighs open, his hands so firm in your flesh that you won’t be shocked to see the marks.

His hips meet yours fast and hard, skin echoing against each other in the otherwise quiet bedroom that he’s defiled you in too many times to count. Your arm reaches up and behind you to claw at the sheets as his cock slides in an out of your tightness with no intention of letting up.

The urge to see your tits jump is urgent as he pulls your shirt up just enough to get them out. The chill makes your nipples even tighter.

“Fuck—I can’t, Caleb… ‘s too much..” you mumble incoherently, but you’ll be dammed if he stops. It being too much is what makes it so good.

“You know how to handle my cock, baby. Take what you deserve,” he rasps, pressing down on your stomach so you can really feel him. Somehow, he manages to get deeper. “Think of me sitting right there the next time you want to disobey me again.”

You feel like you’re choking on his dick with how nestled he is inside of you. His hands moves from your thighs to grip your hips, the pace somehow getting faster. You’re moaning like you’re getting paid to do it. You can’t help that the wet claps of you and him connecting has always been one of your favorite things.

“Gonna come…” you warn with a cry as the hold on you tightens, right on the precipice of being painful.

“You better hope you finish before I do then,” he threatens, slapping your tits to make your head spin. He keeps his momentum. “Because I’m filling you with my cum no matter what.”

He feels how you clench over and over eagerly, unable to stop suffocating his cock with your needy cunt. Caleb strokes your tender velvet walls a few more times with his thick length before it becomes all too much. He curses as his orgasm rapidly approaches, spilling into you with zero warning. Your own orgasm is induced at the feeling of his thick and heavy load making its way into your womb, marking you from the inside out.

You can barely catch your breath as he slips out of you with a hiss and a moan, rubbing his softening cock between your lips.

“Push it out,” he breathes. “Let me see.”

He stares at your pussy as you work your muscles to push his cum out of your used hole. You feel it trail and honestly wish you could see it for yourself when you feel him use his tip to push it back inside like he’s claiming you all over again.

Caleb smiles as he licks his bottom lip, admiring the visual he never gets tired of seeing.

“Funny how well you listen when you want to.”

You look at him with annoyance and that weird sense of love you refuse to say out loud. You always have to make yourself remember: You broke up for a reason.

“Will you clean me up?” He raises a brow. You sigh. “Please?”

He leans down, his silver chain clinking as it gently brushes against your chest. While he kisses your lips, you wrap your legs around him, a habit you’ve never broken.

“You love me?” he looks into your eyes as you purse your lips.

“You want me to.”

“But I know you do.”

“So why ask if you’re so confident?”

He shrugs. “I like hearing you say it.”

It’s silent for a moment. “I tolerate you.”

“Cute,” he pecks your mouth again. “You have no choice but to.”

All the while, he’s thankful you never questioned his sudden appearance and anger when he got here. He has his cock to thank for that. The man was prepared to lie if he had to—he came up with his lie on his drive here—but you were so dumb on dick that you didn’t think about anything that wasn’t him.

You still don’t know about the cameras in your home and he intends to make sure it stays that way.

Tags 🏷️ : @innergardentoadpony @teacupwaifu @mcdepressed290 @calebapplepie @xcelfer @honeymoonfleur @obeythebutler @ajyoursgirl @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @honeycrispangels @dummiebunny @sucre-princesse @brailsthesmolgurl @klossnite @grlyeetswrld @beesin03 @dramaticalsachan @moonchildjae00 @asiatic-apple @callads7 @caien @stargirlygirl @multisstuff @littledarlingsthings @purpleamethyst25 @lazygelpen @floatinginaer @meadowinthesky @floatinginaer @grackerzzz @nod4mnm3rcyy @loveinorion @ur-l0cal-crypt1d @inutrasha94 @cowaungabungabby @gravity-pilot

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deespace smut #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb smut

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cigsafterfics · 3 days ago

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in the flesh

summary. you watch longingly as your boyfriend marks strangers with permanent inked lines—but you want something more than a tattoo. you want his initials carved in your skin.

pairing. erik campbell x fem!reader

wc. 3.03k

warnings. smut, piv sex, knife play, blood kink, playing with death (not recommended), degradation kink, petnames, jealous!bratty!reader with internalized misogyny tendencies uhh, dom!erik when he’s angry, spanking, fingering, slight dumbification? 18+ only minors do not interact.

The night isn’t getting younger yet Erik has to tend to another, hopefully last, customer who decided to go for a lower back tattoo as if it was a casual spur of the moment afterthought. Yeah, good luck not regretting that in the morning. Maybe you’re being too harsh with her in your head, but tattooing on the lower back region feels a little too intimate for comfort. Okay, you can’t pretend Erik hasn’t seen it all. He’s probably got tons of people, including women, bent over half naked before him every day to get their backs tatted.

That doesn't bother you one bit. However, it only makes you iffy if the girl starts innocently batting her lashes and flirts at your boyfriend who’s just trying to do his job. Many such fucking cases. Erik remains professionally affable and his naturally talkative self. He may tend to overshare, but he knows better than to entertain their annoyingly coquettish pander. Still, that doesn’t stop jealousy from consuming your guts. What can you say? She’s going to be the center of your boyfriend’s undivided attention for the next three hours or so. It doesn’t help that she’s pretty and about your age. Jealousy’s a perfectly justifiable reaction.

“First time?” Erik asks.

“Yeah, kinda scared.” The girl giggles.

You roll your eyes when Erik asks her to pull her pants down further, revealing more skin for him to work with all the while, giving you more reasons to resent this poor girl. “So, you get the gist. Tattoos hurt, they’re undoable—well, sort of. It’s important to me you know what you’re getting yourself into.” He explains with halfhearted concern. Erik then rolls up his sleeves to don his usual latex gloves.

See, he doesn’t need to do the sleeve rolling thing. It’s all to tease you because he knows how much you love his pale, inked and deliciously veiny forearms. He knows they’re worthy of showing off but you personally think they should be reserved for your viewing pleasure only. Not here, not when a girl with underlying motives to steal your boyfriend is around. She doesn’t deserve to see them.

Before you know it, you’re interjecting the scene and the book you’re reading suddenly isn’t that interesting anymore. “Babe, of course she knows what a tattoo is. Otherwise, she never would’ve gone the trouble to come all this way here and get a trashy tramp stamp.” You snap, immediately regretting how it came out. Too harsh. Even Erik stares at you with widened eyes, a silent look that screams what the hell?.

“I mean my boyfriend’s a professional. He manages to make bad tattoos look like works of fucking art. He’s like emo Michaelangelo and your rear’s the Sistine Chapel ceiling.” You quickly retract upon seeing your boyfriend’s reaction, you look at the girl on the table and force a fake smile at her expense.

“Hey, I wouldn’t go that far.” Erik says modestly, stifling a laugh while he sets up the needles and ink. Your ridiculous poetic analogy has charmed him.

However, the girl isn’t as amused. She shoots you a scrutinizing look over her shoulder instead. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

You open your mouth to reply with an unprompted retort but Erik is quick to step in before fire breaks loose. “She’s my girlfriend. Casual observer when I’m on the clock. She’s good company, usually...” Erik emphasizes the last word while he glances at you intently. Fine, you get the message. Sit pretty in the corner until closing time. Don’t fuck it up and push another customer into rage-reviewing the parlor again because you can’t keep your mouth shut. “When mercury isn’t in retrograde or whatever. You into that shit too?”

“Not a chance. Is she here to solely insult your customers because that’s like, not a good business model.” Tramp stamp girl sneers as Erik starts the mechanical needle. A long dragging buzz emits through the room. The metal music in the background grows more and more palpable as you shoot back daggers in return. “I literally compared your ass to the Sistine Chapel and you still think that’s an insult?”

Erik sighs sardonically when he realizes he has a situation to mediate. “Bet she appreciates that so much, baby.” He says before punching the first needle against the girl’s skin, causing her to groan in pain.

You recognize the sarcasm in Erik’s tone. You deflate slightly. “You’re supposed to side with me.”

“I am. But don’t you think you’re being a little… distracting right now maybe?” Erik replies not bothering to look at you as his eyes zeroes in on the ink work… and her ass.

Oh. Okay. You scoff bitterly in disbelief before admitting defeat. So you did the favor by sitting quietly in the corner, secretly sulking, while attempting to finish a chapter in the book but the words only flew over your head.

You find a way to distract yourself by manning the music as you watch your boyfriend masterfully do his craft. Two hours pass by excruciatingly long but you’re just glad that it’s over when the girl finally hops off the chair and Erik instructs her about aftercare and obligatorily reminds her to like and subscribe in a comically deadpan tone before she leaves.

You join him in closing up, wiping the glass counters and putting bottles of chemicals back in the storage cabinets. Erik is unusually quiet throughout. You take it that he’s exhausted, but you’re not going to let what happened slip easily. You’re famously known for not letting things go and Erik is aware of that. “I think it’s unfair you get to tattoo and look at her ass for two fucking hours.”

Erik huffs, shaking his head. “I kinda have to…”

You walk towards the chair he’s busily cleaning. “I’m just wondering when it's gonna to be my turn.” You smile innocently as you sit on it. Erik tilts his head, slightly bewildered at what you’re implying. A small smirk tugs the corner of lips, “You want me to tattoo you? But you told me repeatedly you’d rather drink that bottle of rubbing alcohol than get a tattoo.”

“You’re right, but maybe I want something more painful than a tattoo.” You say, your lips drawing closer to his but only enough for your hot breath to touch his skin.

Erik is using all his power not to pull you then and there and kiss you sloppily. “I’m listening...” He says, his voice going lower.

You pull yourself away, biting your lip when anxiety finally strikes you. You’ve debated for so long whether or not it is appropriate to bring it up, considering your boyfriend’s trauma. You feel your heart pounding against your chest as you’re about to spill him your shameful fantasy. “You know the knife you got when death came after you… the one you always carry everywhere. I can’t stop thinking about the idea of you using it on me.”

The cat’s out of the bag and you can only hope Erik receives it with open arms. He pauses, surprised by your words before raising his eyebrows. Your boyfriend looks intrigued more than anything. “I’m totally expecting something else, but this is welcomed.”

Relief and that familiar feeling of excitement takes over you.

“So let me get this straight, you want me to play with my knife on you? Is that what you want, you little freak?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, smiling sheepishly at your own request. You’re suddenly shy when Erik’s gaze lingers on you with lust-drunken eyes. “Death isn’t in control anymore. You are. But I understand if you feel uncomfortable, we can ju-“

“No, no, babe. What the fuck? I think you woke up something in me that I didn’t even know existed. This is some spiritual awakening.” One thing about you is that you never fail to amaze Erik with your curiosities.

“I want you to mark me. Claim me as your own. Put a brat like me in her place—” Erik pushes you on the chair, his breath has noticeably gotten heavy as you watch the skull on his stomach rise up and down. “Sit down, when I come back I better see you without your clothes on you fucking slut.”

You strip off your top and jeans easily. When your arms reach behind to unclasp your bra, Erik comes back almost as if on cue, a sharp fixed blade in hand. Your breath hitches at the sight of the knife, the lamp light casting a glint on its sharp edges. “Stop. Let me get this off for you. ‘S not like you need it anyway.” He commands, deftly flipping the knife between his fingers. You lay back down and let Erik do the work. He secures you on the chair, him on top of you. You are now literally under his mercy.

Erik drags the tip of the knife down your chest, the blade only grazing at your skin lightly. He’s one push of the knife away from drawing a nasty wound. You sigh, feeling yourself getting wetter in your panties at the thought of Erik toying with your safety—with death. He could stab you to your death any moment, but he chooses not to. It’s messed up but that somehow drives you over to the fucking edge. With one swift flick, he cuts your bra in half. You gasp at the sudden cool air hitting your nipples.

Erik chuckles at your reaction. “You look so fucking beautiful, you know that?” His sweet compliment juxtaposes the unholy acts he’s about to do. His hand gropes your boob, kneading it expertly while he dives in on the other, his septum cold against your touch. His mouth wraps around your firm nipple to suck your bud, tongue circling in motion. Erik moans against your skin, sending deep vibrations in your chest.

“Too bad I have to mess up a pretty little thing like you.” Erik pulls away and reveals a stupid smug smile plastered across his face, proud of the writhing mess he made out of you. You only look at him under your lashes, a silent plea for him to do something. Anything. He soon pouts, “Poor baby, always begging for my attention. You can’t even function properly without being tended to, isn’t that right?”

You nod, biting your lip too hard it draws blood. Erik cups your chin, pinching your cheeks slightly. You moan at his strong grip. “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes.” You manage to weakly choke out.

“Pathetic.” Erik spits, letting you go before trailing his knife across your torso. You arch your back when the blunt end of its handle touches your clothed clit. “Bet this pretty pussy is begging for my attention too, huh?” He moves the knife up and down, stimulating your clit with the handle. You buck your hips forward, moaning at the strange yet delicious sensation. “Yes—yes, please touch my pussy.” You whimper.

Erik is forgiving this time and heeds your wishes. He cuts the thin fabric off to expose your throbbing pussy. “God, you’re so fucking wet. Is this all for me?” He dips his fingers on your lips and teasingly rubs them, spreading your juices all over.

“Yes… ‘s all for you.” You moan, desperately in need of his fingers inside you. “Please, please Erik. Please fuck me.” You feel like a ticking bomb ready to explode. Your desperate sounds seem to satisfy Erik enough so he plunges his fingers into your pussy pumping in and out, his rings stretching you out in ways you haven’t felt before.

“Good girl.” Erik coos, marvelled at how tight your walls pull his fingers deep. Before you could feel the tight coil forming in your stomach, Erik does the unthinkable. He lifts up his blade dangerously close to your neck causing your breath to heave out of instinctual fear. You quickly let your guard down when you remember the man wielding the knife is knuckles-deep inside you. “Don’t cum yet or there will be ugly consequences.” He grits his teeth as he speeds up his pace. “You call that a threat?” You smile at him tauntingly.

“Shut the fuck up.” Erik withdraws his fingers to get back at you, leaving your walls hollow and once again unattended. He inches his knife towards your cheek, caressing you longingly with the blade. You can tell he’s getting cocky with it. “Tell me… where do you wanna be marked, slut?”

You thought of him carving his initials in your skin more times than you can count, but you never considered the possibility of it coming true. You’re left tongue-tied, unable to muster words to come out from your mouth. “What? Can’t think for yourself?” Erik coos condescendingly. “Now you need me to do the thinking for you too? Poor baby.”

“How about here?” Erik digs his head on the side of your neck, sucking off the sweet spot until it's tender. “I know you love it when everyone sees how much of a slut you are, and it’s all for me.” Once he leaves an adequate amount of hickeys on your neck, he moves on to your collarbone along with his knife.

“Or here…” He traces the sharp tip on your collarbone, drawing the letter E. His touch feels light as a feather, but this newfound gentleness won’t last long. You hold your breath in anticipation of what’s to come. Erik gives you a reassuring look before he presses the knife in the same spot on your collarbone where he traced his initial. A sharp pang of pain shoots through your senses but you can only elicit a loud moan of heavenly pleasure. “Shh… relax, baby.” He says softly. You watch your blood seep out from the fresh cut as beads of crimson stream down the surface of your skin. Erik wipes the blood off with his bare hand in precise fashion like he’s doing a tattoo on you.

“You’re doing so well.” Erik praises, kissing your tears off your cheek before putting all his attention to the wound he inflicted. E C. Carved on your collarbone for all to see. His initials. “You look so fucking hot. And you’re mine. God, when did I get so lucky?” He kisses the bloody letters, devouring the blood out of your flesh. Erik smiles to reveal red tainting the gaps of his teeth. You’d be lying if you say that’s not the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your waking life.

You pull Erik close to clash your lips against his. You kiss him like you're starving, tasting your blood from his tongue. You moan at the sickly sweet metal taste that pairs with the cigarettes and coffee Erik recently had. “Erik, please fuck me. I want your cock so bad.” You whisper in between your messy kisses.

“Since you’ve been such a good girl for being so brave, I think you deserve it.” He replies, tucking your stray hair behind your ears almost too dramatically. “That’s so fucking cliché.” You giggle. Erik smirks, amused at the fact that you still look innocent even after moaning all sorts of dirty profanities. “Yeah? What about this… does this feel cliché to you?” He thrusts his hips forward to let you feel the tight bulge of his cock threatening to burst out from his jeans any moment now. “You made me so hard, baby. You drive me fuckin’ nuts.”

“Turn around.” He says and you immediately comply, unable to wait any longer as you maneuver yourself on the tattoo chair so you’re lying on your stomach. “Ass up, baby girl.” Erik slaps your cheek causing you to gasp and giggle even more. Erik can’t help himself. He always spanks your ass whenever he gets the chance. “Good girl.” He grabs his dick and eases his tip teasingly between your folds, his Prince Albert piercing barely touching your wet pussy. You suddenly got reminded that you're dating an asshole.

You take matters into your own hands by sinking yourself into him but he holds you down. Erik’s strength shouldn’t be underestimated despite his skinny build. “I need you to stay still, princess.” He instructs as he rubs soothing circles on the ample spot of your left cheek. “Think you can handle a little more pain?”

“You can fuck me as hard as you want once this is over. I just need to carve a heart right… here.” There it goes again. You feel his knife slice through the spot he’s been lovingly massaging. Your eyes roll at the pain, as your pussy clenches around his tip. “Please…” You whine while Erik brands you. “God babe, I didn’t think you’d get off to this. You like it when I hurt you, don’t you?”

“Yeah… feels good.” You say breathlessly, making Erik chuckle.

“Now this is what I call a tattoo.” He says, admiring his magnum opus on your ass proudly, a heart shaped lineart with his name spelled out inside of it. Erik didn’t waste another second to ram his dick fully inside you.

“Fuck!!” You scream at the sudden fullness in your pussy, clawing the leather on the chair as he thrusts in and out with such precision, his piercing palpably drags against your walls, hitting your G-spot in the most mind spinning way possible. “That’s it, good girl. You’re taking me so well. Fuck—your tight pussy belongs to me.” Erik mumbles incoherently through in his growls.

The room is filled with the sounds of your salacious moans and skin slapping repeatedly. You look around and see the glass windows, blatantly reminding you that the sight of you getting railed by your boyfriend can be viewed from outside. Someone could be watching. You didn’t care though. You want everyone to know you belong to Erik. Erik pulls your hair, fucking you deeper until his pace becomes unsteady. “I’m gonna cum.” He bites your shoulder. “You better take it like the good girl you are…”

Before you can react, you feel spurts of hot liquid coat every crevices in your pussy. It didn’t take long until you reached your high too. Erik praises you, as you ride your orgasm on his dick with slow and lingering thrusts. You lay your spent body lazily, savoring the euphoric feeling you just experienced.

Erik kisses your back, before slipping out to grab some sterile rags for clean up. He comes back with a mirror so you can properly see the marks he’s given you. “What do you think?” He asks shyly like he’s expecting artistic validation. After the amazing sex he’s given you, it’s only fair you have to give him that in return.

You smile, admiring his work etched on your skin. It’s going to stay that way for a long while. “I love it. I love you.”

“Guess I need to have you around in the shop more often." He helps you stand up, your legs still feel wobbly from the activity. Erik picks up and helps you put on your clothes.

“I guess you do.” You reply contentedly.

“I deserve a five-star review for giving you the best tattoo I’ve ever done.”

author’s note. a week after seeing fd6 and this man still lives rent free in my mind ughhh. been a while since i’ve written something spicy so i aplogize for the rusty smut prose! & thank you so much for reading!! <3

#erik campbell x reader #erik campbell x you #erik campbell smut #erik campbell #final destination x reader #final destination bloodlines

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quercus-queer · 3 days ago

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Just to clarify: the social worker isn’t played by a white woman, she’s played by the original voice actress of Nani from the movie. Honestly I think this choice is even more insidious because casting a white woman for that role would be Too Obvious so instead they pick the original voice of Nani to change the entire message of the show. I think they also picked this role for the og cameo so that people who may be like “why’d you switch a black man out for a woman to play a social worker?” can be told “oh we just wanted the original voice actor to interact with new Nani 🥰.”

Also if you were wondering I would consider Bubbles a good social worker. Bubbles gives Nani ALOT of leeway in the movie. Nani kicks his car and calls him a stupid head on his way to their house, the home visit goes TERRIBLE, Nani looses her job, Stitch assaults him (lol), and a couple other things. He says something along the lines of I can ignore everything else “but I cannot ignore you not having a job” and THAT is the prime reason he is even so present in the movie to see any mistakes Nani makes. He’s not like comically evil, hovering waiting for the perfect moment to snatch Lilo up, he’s doing his job and it just unfortunately isn’t great for Nani lol. He doesn’t give Nani any resources from what I remember but we also only see into their interactions for like two days lol. Also, at the end of the movie he is the one who gives Lilo the opportunity to keep Stitch, helps them rebuild their house, shows up for holidays and random tv nights, and I at least think it was implied he pulled strings for them to get some additional income for housing aliens.

In case anyone was wondering about the Lilo and Stitch movie here’s the highlights from someone chronically online enough to have seen the movie through snippets lol

Nani does in fact give Lilo up to the government, ppl defend it by saying David’s mom is her foster mom now but Lilo is still in fact in the system and can easily be taken away from David’s mom if conditions are “unfit”… the exact same situation Nani was in before lol

Took away all of Nani’s support system that the original movie develops for her except for David/his mom

Had Nani treat Lilo like a burden for “realism”… anyway…

Lilo literally says “you’re so smart Nani, I think you should join the Marines”

Nani was deeply connected to her culture and family, that aspect of her just isn’t there at the end of the day (and part of that is because Sydney is not indigenous Hawaiian and it shows… in looks, actions, and line delivery) and the conclusion to her story being giving up her kid sister to the state and leaving her home for a “better” education and future is atrocious

They had her go to California to study marine biology. First of all, it was implied she was a pro surfer in the og movie no hint of marine biology. Not every persons dream is college and it doesn’t need to be part of everyone’s story… the choice of “putting yourself first” in order to get a better education is very #girlboss… Second of all, Hawaii has multiple universities with marine biology programs that would give far more money and benefits to a native Hawaiian than literally any Californian school let alone UCSD lmao

They changed their island from Kauai to Oahu… most obvious reason they did this was because that is the island their resort is on and overrun with tourists. However, with this location change and their wack ass narrative changes they also made going to California even more blatantly propaganda because that is where the University of Hawaii at Manoa is… ALSO, Oahu has major cities… you know how Sitch has to find new meaning for existence because he can’t do what he was programmed to do because he’s stuck on an island with no big cities… yeah…

On this note, pretty much removed all substantial tourism commentary

Jumba is the villain, he sounds like a whiny computer nerd and it’s miserable

Pleakley is lame, rip queen 🕊️

Lilo is pretty well adjusted and normal lol? No fights, no biting, no trying to curse her enemies etc… she’s literally a normal girl which… alright then???

There is no Gantu (rumor has it this is at its core because they don’t want to make law enforcement look bad)

CGI is literally so fucking bad like besides aesthetics the actors literally don’t point to where Stitch is and when they’re supposed to touch it they often miss lol

Editing is also terrible. Every scene lasts like 5 seconds and is jarring, so genuinely terrible I think shows like this are gonna further ruin kids attention spans lmfao

Nani misses Lilo’s actual performance instead of just being late to pick up Lilo from practice after getting into a fight…

Myrtle isn’t white #diversity win

No ugly duckling subplot

Bubbles is not the social worker and is working against the gang (again removing all of Nani’s support system, he literally shows up for every holiday with the fam in the og)

Changing the social worker role from an externally imposing black man with good intentions to a gentle woman has some undertones tbh considering this is the justification: “According to Camp, it was easy for audiences to believe that a towering man with a "Cobra" tattooed on his knuckles was a social worker in the animated movie. However, that kind of exaggerated character design doesn't translate convincingly to live-action.”

The new social worker literally tells Nani that the right thing to do is to give up Lilo… very different from Bubbles doing his best to keep the sisters together. Keeping family together is a prime goal in social work btw…

#also Lilo is a genuine menace in the original #like man was there for a reason lol

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vnpyy · 3 days ago

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is it still me that makes you sweat?

nerd! armin x reader (nsfw)

tags: college au, f/m, tongue piercing, semi-public sex, oral fixation library sex, edging, nipple piercing, dry humping, virgin, smut with plot, dirty talk, nipple play, making out, soft dom/sub, 18+, whimpering

The fall semester is nearing its end, and the only thing you’ve been up to is finals, of course. However, there’s somebody else who has piqued your interest lately at the library where you’ve been studying…

Armin Arlert, the library assistant at your college.

Every time you pop into the library for a long study session alone, you constantly manage to grab his attention.

Maybe it’s because of how put-together you always are? Or how good you look in those tiny skirts you wear from time to time?

You’ve had many interactions with him: when you need help finding a book on the subject you’re learning about, or with a question you’re struggling with, somehow he’s always there whenever you need him. You find it cute. Even though he seems somewhat reserved whenever he’s around you. Then again, both of you are somewhat strangers to other. Sometimes you wish it could be more than that…

──────────────────────

“I need to stop procrastinating and finish this damn essay for psych,” you said, heaving a sigh.

“Why don’t you head over to the library instead of staying in the dorm with me and Sasha?" Mikasa offers as she cleans up around the dorm you share. “Plus, once you’re done, we can all have movie night together! I’m dying to have one again,” Sasha chimes in, agreeing with Mikasa.

“Yeah, you’re right. I was thinking about going out in a bit. I just wanna get ready before I go,” you say as you slowly head to the bathroom to touch up your makeup and find a cute outfit to put on.

“Getting ready for the library, I see? Is there somebody specific you’re hoping to see hm?” Mikasa giggles, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of you.

“Maybe y/n is going to pay Armin a little visit,” Sasha teases, giggling with Mikasa.

You froze for a second, thinking about how you’ve been caught…

“How do you guys know me so well,” you sighed in disbelief. Mikasa and Sasha always know when you’re up to something. Maybe Armin has mentioned you when they all hang out… I mean, they’ve all been good friends for years. I’m sure you get brought up from time to time..

“Well, don’t go doing anything stupid. You need to get your finals done, deadlines are approaching way too fast,” Mikasa scolds you a bit for not being on track with your academics.

“I know, I know. I will,” you sigh loudly enough for everyone to hear. You finished getting ready to head out, slinging your tote bag over your shoulder. “I’m gonna head out now, see you later, guys. I’ll send a text in the group chat if I’m coming back late.” Mikasa nods, and Sasha blows you a kiss goodbye, wishing you well on your studies as you hurry out the door.

You finally made it to the library after you grabbed a coffee and a sweet treat, so you’re motivated enough to write your essay.

As you approach the building, you’re eager to see if the blondie is on his shift. Maybe he’s just as eager to see you, too? You shrug away the thought as you enter the building through those heavy wooden doors.

Finally, you enter the library, inhaling the smell of still air and old books. You take the elevator to go to on 5th floor of the library.

…

*ding* you’re here

Stepping out of the elevator, you sigh in relief at how very few people are on this floor. You walk around, looking at shelves upon shelves of books as you look for a secluded place to do your work.

While looking for a spot, you suddenly catch a glimpse of the very person you hoped to see.

His beautiful blonde hair was hard to miss; those sweet blue eyes that make your heart flutter every time he stares at you a little too long, glasses that slide down his nose when he looks down at you. There was no doubt about it. He was already staring at you the moment he noticed you were here.

He smiled when he saw you, waving slightly. Both of you make quick but heavy eye contact with one another. Before you could break eye contact with him, he says, “Let me know if you need help with anything. I’ll be happy to help.” You blush at his kindness but quickly nod and thank him as he goes back to stacking books up on the shelf.

You continue walking and find a seat close enough to be able find him if you needed to. You set everything down on the table, sipping your cup of coffee and resting a bit before you started working. Eventually, you pull out your laptop and notebooks, getting comfortable and ready to start working when you realize, “shit… I forgot my textbook.” You suddenly recall that you left it on your desk in your bedroom, frustrated at the thought since you need it to write your psych essay.

Maybe Armin can help me… You smile at the thought of him helping you out. Eager to find him, you slowly get up, pulling yourself together while you make your way through the narrow walls of bookshelves, hoping to find him, and you eventually do. You find him near the back; the walls of bookshelves tower over both of you.

There he is…You found him organizing more stacks of books, immersed in his own world.

Before approaching him, you stop to admire him..

You don’t know why, but there’s just something about him that you can’t seem to resist, like a moth attracted to the light. You continue walking closer to him.

“Hey Armin, is there any way you guys happen to have this psych textbook? I desperately need it for my essay that’s due on Friday,” you asked.

He startles and quickly turns to you, immediately recognizing your voice. “Uh- y-yeah, yeah! I definitely have it. What was the name of the textbook again?” he stutters, eyes lowered while trying not to make too much eye contact with you. You quickly tell him the name of the book you’re looking for.

"I believe it should be around here… you can follow me,” he says as you continue to thank him for helping you out, which managed to crack a cute smile from him. “The book should be here somewhere…” He ran his slender fingers along the spines of each book he looked through. At last, he does find it and hands it over to you, giving you a small smile. Before you can say anything, he suddenly decides to asks you something.

“By the way, your name is y/n right? Sorry I know that was out of the blue,” he quickly looks down at his feet out of nervousness, hoping you don’t notice. Your heart skips a beat at the thought of him saying your name. After all, you do have mutual friends, yet you’re intrigued who told him about you...

“Yeah it is. Who told you that?” you shoot him a snarky grin as he stammers to explain himself. “Eren actually told me since you dorm with his girlfriend Mikasa. We’re all pretty close friends and I’ve always seen you around a lot, so I just wanted to know…”he starts rambling in an attempt to reassure you so he doesn’t come off as a perv somehow.

You giggle at what he says. Seeing just how flushed he gets when he talks to you, you can’t help but want to tease him more. “Honestly I wanted to get to know you too. I mean… I see the way you stare at me,” you say as you slowly move closer to him.

He realizes what you’re doing and clenches his jaw as he looks you up and down. You see the way his eyes drop down directly at your chest for a moment, lingering before they snap back up to your face. Can you blame him though? You were wearing a low-cut long sleeve top, with no bra underneath as your nipple piercings peaked through your tight fitting top.

He can’t help the fact that his dick twitches at the thought of being this close to you. The air suddenly feels thick and heavy around you, and he’s trying so hard to keep his composure but the way you look at him makes it all that more difficult… you want him and he knows that.

You can’t help but be a bit bold. “Would you want my number? I think you can get good use out of it, no?” you hummed to yourself. He was not expecting that… He looks dumbfounded at what you said, feeling flabbergasted at how blunt you are. He slowly nods his head, not knowing what to say he blurts out, “y-yeah of course.” He shakily hands you his phone. Putting your digits in, you swiftly hand the phone back to him. His fingers accidentally brushed against yours.

You both don’t say anything for a while; just taking each other in for a moment. The tension between you is unbearable. Armin stands there stiff as wood, trying to figure out what to say to you next, but you quickly say something first to break the silence.

“Well I really should get back to my work. Maybe you can find me again once your shift is over?” you grin, waiting for his response.

“Yeah I get off in about an hour so maybe you can use some help, i-if you would like that. I believe I’ve taken the class before too,” he says while trying to keep his cool. Knowing me, I need all the help I can get. You sigh in relief, nodding at his offer.

“Thenn I’ll see you later okay?” winking at him as you slowly turn and walk back to your seat.

“Fuck me…”Armin mumbles lowly under his breath while watching you walk away, getting a good look at the tiny black miniskirt you happen to be wearing. He can’t help but wonder if you’re the slutty type or if you wear a thong underneath your skirts… Pervert. He shrugs his dirty thoughts away and goes back to his work.

You return to where you left your stuff. Finally, you take a seat, trying to concentrate on your essay, but you can’t seem to get him off your mind. I wonder if he’ll actually help me, you think to yourself as you work on your essay.

Before you realize it, two hours have gone by.

It’s 7:00 pm on the dot, and the 5th floor is completely empty by now. You decide to text the group chat you have with the girls.

You: Guys, I’m still at the library I think I’m gonna be here until it closes, it feels like..

Sasha: Nooo we were hoping you could have dinner with us :((

You: I wish but I have 2 more pages to go babes

Mikasa: I’ll save you a plate so you have dinner to enjoy when you get home <3

Sasha: Aw okay we’ll miss you now go finish that essay !

You: Ily both i’ll catch you guys later :3

As you put your phone away, guess who finally shows up?

It’s Armin, of course. As soon as you see him, you give him a gesture to come over. He notices you as he begins to walk towards you. He’s finally off his shift. In his comfortable clothes, you can’t help but stare at him. He quickly notices, making him nervous as he approaches the seat next to you. Quite bold of him.

“Hey y/n, how’s the essay coming along?” he takes a seat, trying not to make eye contact with you as he starts making himself comfortable, pulling out his laptop and his notes. “I’m telling you this is literally torture. How am I supposed to finish a 6-page essay in two days?” you complained. Felt like the exhaustion from all the stress during finals week has gotten to you.

“It’s doable, but at least I can help you out. Can I take a look?” he asks. You move your laptop so he can see what you’ve written so far, without realizing he gets significantly closer to you to get a better look. You feel his knee bump into yours. That’s when he realizes how close he was to you. “O-oh sorry, am I too close?” he asks, ears turning red from embarrassment. “Get closer if you want,” you say, slightly flustered.

As you say that, he leans slightly closer to you, his body reacting first before his mind does. At this closeness, he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume on your neck. It kinda smells like cherries, he thinks to himself. God, he can’t get enough of you. He wants you on him.

The sexual tension between you two gets stronger; it’s just you and him in the library. Forget your essay. It’s such a perfect time for one of you to make a move on the other. Pausing for a moment, you look up at him. “Armin… have you ever kissed anyone before?”

His breath hitched at your words. “N-no, I actually haven’t done anything like that with anyone before,” he replies. “Really…? Not even a little peck?” you teased him. He quickly shook his head no. All he could focus on was the way you’re looking at him.

“Then… can I be your first?” you ask, failing not to burn up at your own words. He freezes for a moment. “I-I mean.. how can I say no to you?” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. You gently grab his face while staring into his pretty eyes. “Just follow my lead, okay?” you whispered into his ear. He nods. Tilting his head, he’s leaning towards you. Your lips softly brush together, kissing him ever so slowly but desperately. He already lost his composure when you pressed your lips against his. He’s been wanting this for so long.

Armin is a fast learner, though. He’s doing such a good job mirroring your movements to the point where you started wondering if he’d actually done this before… Gaining more confidence, he slowly starts to swirl his tongue around yours, and you feel the slight pressure of his tongue piercing. Oh? It surprised you, the fact that he has one.

Your heart is racing, and you can’t help but crave more. The kiss is getting more intense as he slowly slides his hand onto your thigh, caressing it ever so lightly. You moaned in his mouth, pressing your thighs together from how good he makes you feel. Fuck. If he wasn’t already hard now… he thought, while he breaks apart from the kiss, letting you catch your breath.

He was still grabbing your thigh. “Didn’t expect you to have a tongue piercing,” you said softly as a small smile touched your lips. “Y-yeah.. I kinda forgot to mention that. I hope that wasn’t weird for you.” He swallows hard, throat feeling dry, trying to regain some composure as his hand lets go of your thigh. “No, I enjoyed it. It was really hot,” you murmured slightly, getting close to him again. You put your hand on his chest, gliding it lower and reaching for his crotch. Feeling how hard he is, you gasped quietly.

Armin tilts his head back, letting out a low whine just from your touch. Fuck. He’s so hard it hurts… He clenches his jaw tightly, teeth grinding against each other, thinking about all the things he can do to you while no one’s watching. It’s exactly what he needs to relieve himself. You can’t help but bite your lip, showing him how badly you want it. “You’re such a virgin Armin, it’s cute. Do you want to keep going?” you asked, continuing to palm his erection.

“Yes. Please y/n,” he says as he bites back a moan. With that, you make your move, fixing your bunched-up miniskirt as you slowly get up from your seat. He definitely caught a glimpse of your underwear. “Lace panties? How fitting…” he cooed. Your face turns red at his remark. “You’re such a pervert.” He leans back in his seat, spreading his legs out just a bit. He feels his pants tightening even more at the pretty view in front of him. Armin reaches his hand out for you, and you’re surprised at him taking the lead. You grab his hand, and he’s pulling you straight into his lap.

You’re flustered when he sets you down on top of him, grabbing your waist softly. Immediately feeling his bulge now directly on your cunt, you can’t help but start grinding back and forth on him. Gasps and moans slowly leave your mouth. “You don’t know how badly I’ve been wanting to do this with you,” he whispered. A sudden neediness fills his voice as his hips try to match your pace. He feels how wet you are for him.

Oh fuck. He can cum just by doing this. If you keep going any longer, he might just…

On queue, you slowly stop bucking your hips onto him, almost like you read his mind. “Armin… I don’t want you to cum just yet,” you said coyly. He throws his head back, feeling breathless. “Please, y/n I’ll do anything,” staring at you so desperately with those pretty eyes. “Anything…?” Your adrenaline kicks in a little, continuing the deep eye contact you both make with one another. “You should kiss me slowly down my neck, then you can go from there,” you say in a haze.

“L-like this?” Firmly grabbing your waist, he leans closer, starting to kiss the top of your neck. Not knowing what he’s really doing, he slowly goes lower and lower, nibbling your skin ever so gently, letting out faint moans. “You’re doing so well Armin… you want me to take my top off for you?” you say teasingly as you bite your lip. Without hesitation, he’s already lifting your top off, desperately wanting to see how hot nipple piercings look on you. “Fuck y/n. How do you keep getting hotter,” he murmurs, already grabbing your tits with the cold touch of his hands.

His words send a tingle down your spine as he firmly gropes your chest. Seeing the glare in his eyes you he knows exactly what he wants to do with you. He shudders out a “Can I...?”

Tilting your head, you give him a sweet smirk.

“Go ahead, but... remember what I told you, okay?” He doesn’t even care if you won’t let him cum yet, he just wants to make you feel good..

He exhales, and before you know it, you feel him sinking his mouth in, feeling his tongue piercing glide over your nipple piercing. His tongue circles around it softly as he gropes the other tit.

The feeling makes you quiver, throwing your head back, and blurting out many moans that echo around the library.

Armin realizes how loud both of you have been. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, though..

“If you’re too loud, we might get caught,” he says between heavy breaths. You can’t help but whine in annoyance. “I hope we get caught so everyone can see how desperate you are to get your dick wet,” you say, biting back a moan as you start rolling your cunt over his hard erection again.

He can feel how wet you are against him through the fabric of your underwear. Armin jolts a little as he hears what you said.

“Y/n, please. You’re gonna make me cum and I’m not even inside you..” he whines. Seeing the desperation in his eyes

The way he’s looking at you is mesmerizing, observing his desire for you

You can’t help but give in. How could you not?

You let him know you’re giving in by slowly smirking at him

He starts grabbing onto you waist again moving your hips up and down rubbing against his cock, his pace gets faster and faster

Leaning towards him now kissing him up his neck, slightly biting his collarbone, leaving him all red

Letting desperate whines from his mouth, he breathes out “ Mmph just like that y/n,” he murmured

You remain calm while continuing to kiss him, leaving a few hickey marks on his neck. His groaning is growing louder and more needy

Armin is not lasting another second of this feeling, his vision fading..

“fuck, I can’t— I-I’m almost-” inhaling sharply, bucking your hips down one last time before he releases, he cums fucking hard. His body jolts harshly from the intensity of his orgasm, his hands gripping your hips tightly as a string of moans leaves his mouth. The sight of him like this makes you cry out, reaching your peak. All you can hear is the sounds of your breathing as you come down from your high.

Armin feels his body limp, hair sticks to his forehead from all the sweating. After catching your breath, you feel a wet spot underneath you, realizing you made a mess in his pants and realizing what he just did.

You stop to look back up at him, arching your back lightly as you feel the pool of wetness under you. "armin, did you just cum? I guess you really are a virgin," you tease him.

"Shitt," he says, deeply gasping for air. You lean towards him, putting your head on his chest. As you both try to catch your breath, exhausted, you say, "We should do more of these study sessions. I have a thing or two I can teach you." You giggle, and his face turns red from embarrassment. Soon after you say those words, you both hear an unexpected *ding* from the elevator.

Hearing someone walking inside the building, both of you freeze in place, staring at each other. Remembering you're still in the library, you both realize you aren't alone anymore..

Oh god, if anyone sees you both as a hot mess and you on Armin's lap, both of you are done for. You swiftly hop off his lap, pulling your top back on, fixing your lifted miniskirt. As you do, you finally get a good look at the mess you made all over his pants.

You turn your head away, noticing he was also staring down at his pants.

You sit back down next to him, keeping your composure as he leans back in his chair, wiping the sweat off his forehead, fixing his messy hair, and cleaning off his glasses. You can help but stare, seeing how good he looks after practically ruining him.

"Should we get back to working on your essay?" he whispers, giving u a soft smile.

…

notes: I hope you enjoyed! this is my first time writing something like this so lmk if should more like this

(crossposted on ao3)

251 notes · View notes

xylatox · 2 days ago

Text

Laurel Hell || lhs

And im on part 2 >< The warnings already worry me slightly god, anyways unto my thoughts

Not hee calling his friends’ behaviours childish. I love that their friend groups did in fact merge, that makes me very happy

but how could heeseung love you when you’ve been such a pest in his life? sure, that night at the basketball court is a step of progress towards normalcy in your relationship, but, just like you said. baby steps are needed as you both had hurt each other so much; after he now knows of what you feel in the catalyst of why you hate each other and how you also know of his.

I feel bad about this honestly like :/ youd think the fact that theyre having a baby together would change things but its doesnt really; at least not at this point

American Football mention <//3 havent heard that name in forever

“you don’t think that i don’t realize your crush on beomgyu, don’t you? with the way you’ve been pining over him ever since he brought you to the doula’s office. even if i still harbor unsavory feelings towards you, i’ll allow it cause it’s fucking natural when you interact with him as much. but to then see you slut yourself out to my friends-“

Oh that broke my heart. Her feelings were a bit obvious in part 1 and it being out in the open hurts

“heck, i could’ve terminated them if i didn’t consider you-“

“don’t you fucking dare say that, 'cause,” he says as you looked at him exhaling, the tears of anger brimming in your eyes as you let your mind analyze what you say and how messed up it is. “don’t you see? you thought you were the losing one here? no, (y/n).”

Oh this hurts even more

“please,” you whispered, “please tell me you feel the same way as i do for the past few months.” you silently cry.

the boy in question, beomgyu, gives a solemn smile instead. “i’m so, so, sorry (y/n). but i don’t feel the same way.” he is shaking to signal to himself that yes, he doesn’t reciprocate.

Rejection always makes me so ughfhsibd yknow, i feel so bad for her. Also the whole thing about beomgyu and ryujin??? Thats not nice :( now why would he string her along :/ did he really care for her friendship?

I also feel super bad for Heeseung because it seems as if he has feelings for her but obviously their history makes it difficult and the act of being together to their parents

OMG ITS A BOY AND A GIRL I WAS HOPING😭😭😭😭😭

AND THEIR PARENTS GOT THEM A NEW APARTMENT???/ WHAT.

“(y/n) and i don’t get along with each other.”

he stares at the two women who turn their heads to face each other. both of them sharing a look before your mom replied, “we know.”

::::(((( they know, ofc they know they are their moms :(

“your mom and i are actually rivals in our school basketball athlete days.” your mom said, “we used to trash talk so much at each other that our teacher had the smart plan for us to do something for detention together.”

Its a shame they didnt get together 🚬🥀

“you have me, (l/n)(y/n). we can heal together, if you want, of course. or else, i just take care of myself better an-“

This made me tear up a bit :(

your free hands move animately whilst describing what you are reading, making a few kids holding onto their plush or blankets so hard as they imagine what you’ve said. every time he sees you like this, he can’t help but be enamored like you. like you are a goddess of storytelling and your stories capture people’s attention in such the right way that it influences them too.

This is so sweet what :( The interaction with the kids has me so soft oh my god

“you gotta have to be patient with that. she’s a demiromantic, so you have to coax her into that part of the relationship. make her trust you enough.”

Demiromantic rep!! That makes me super happy ahhh

I am glad that gyu formally apologized and they had that closer, it makes me happy :)

Also love how theyre going to support hee at his game :((((

you could see heeseung’s hooded gaze as he didn’t hesitate to crouch down and give two kisses to each side of your bump—for his two kids—before he stood up and gave you another peck on the lips.

Oh im fucking soft ugh

“i can call that a date because we usually eat after each appointment,” he answers with the right vigor as you change the way you see. that, hey, maybe they are dates.

Hee is so silly oh my god

“it’s time?” heeseung asked, his mind’s wiring not right as he saw you standing up, wobbling from your weight. but he also sees the front of your crotch all wet and the beanbag being the collateral damage.

“oh fuck, it’s time- okay.”

Not me laughing, i love when men panic for childbirth

Thnks fr th mmrs is playing and i didnt expect that omg??? 2000s - 2010s nostalgia

“remember your hee hee hoos, babe,” he whispered to your ear as you nodded, the midwives checking in on you as you are now in active labor.

Oh my god he is really just a silly guy

This is so hee coded oh my god hes so cute

“and, you’re my girl. i’m your boy. and i do think you need to embrace that more. let me take care of you.”

Oh my heart no

“make it more of like a friendly or romantic rivalry,” he says, leaning upwards as he pecks on siah’s sleeping head on your shoulder. “besides, how could i compete with you if we aren’t on equal terms?”

Oh my god the end :(((

Lissie i know i still have the epilogue to get to but this was so sweet. After getting through the main story i can see why I got this in the quiz (not only am i astronomically down bad for hee) but i also heavily related to the mc i think :( like from the sports to her general behaviours it just feels familiar.

Im so glad i finally read this <3

part 2

cast: heeseung ✗ fem.reader (ft. the peeps, enhypen, and other idols)

synopsis: when you told your long-term rival and latest hook-up, heeseung, that you are pregnant with his child; you didn't expect said topic to be involved in your rivalry!

genre: romantic comedy, slice of life, coming-of-age, slow burn, drama, rivals since childhood to [redacted], college/university au, pregnancy au, future parents au, fluff, angst, mature content (explicit smut)

word count: 36351 (36.3k) out of 60550 (60.5k)

warning(s): so many curse words!, implication of abortion, rejection, depression, mention of cigarettes, mentions of consumption of alcohol, explicit description of active labor and childbirth, blood, explicit sex, pregnant sex, pretty rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up tho guys), hand job (m & f receive), oral job (m & f receive), dirty talk with pet names (daddy & mama), marking, multiple orgasms, creampies (if there is something that i forgot, let me know)

message of the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life.

i genuinely didn't expect THAT much attention on the first part! here is the rest and yes, the word count increased by 2k words. thank you so much for the love and support on the first part and enjoy! p.s. all the links will be edited including from the character intro and the first part!

soundtrack | read part 1 first!

3. the heat of lightning is 30.000° celsius

“bro, innie. your stream is starting.” chaeryeong calls out from the couch as the setup of jeongin’s camera and lights are standing in front of her. jimin brought in the snacks and put them on the coffee table right in front of ryujin and minjeong who sitting on either side of you. beomgyu and heeseung follow suit, sitting on the other dining table seats brought to the living area while jeongin is setting up his stream on obs.

you could see—from the mini setup of his—the chat scrolling up as you watched them get familiarized with the names that had come back from when jeongin asked you and the girls to join him on his last stream. his viewers seemed to enjoy it so much that another one was scheduled the next day, which is today after lots and lots of matching up free time schedules. as jeongin sat in between minjeong and jimin, he used his wireless mouse to change the static “starting soon” screen so chat could see all of you on the screen inside the boys’ apartment. the apartment that you’ve been hanging around about for the past month.

jeongin starts with, “ey, welcome chat!”

“WELCOME! WOO!” ryujin’s fanfare sounded as you heard the laughter being thrown all around you.

“since you guys have been wanting to for us to play again together since the last stream we did, well surprise, surprise! here we are!” the others seemed to hype him up as jeongin continued to speak. minjeong playfully slaps your hand as you try to not knock your headset that is lightly placed on your belly and playing classical music—something that heeseung’s mom told you could help with the babies inside you—as none of jeongin’s viewers have noticed your pregnancy bump with the successful oversized maternity top you shopped alongside beomgyu. jeongin continues to greet the chat on today’s stream.

“we did mario kart last time but now we will do mario party. but not just any mario party, courtesy of smosh games: we’re doing reverse mario party where the last place is the winner.”

“finally, (y/n) can win-“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP HEESEUNG.” you throw the pillow behind you, right towards him as beomgyu stood up to massage your shoulder, hyping you up while heeseung playfully glares at you.

“also, this is chaereyong’s idea. but we decided to not make this stream another "boys vs girls" type, but more so a mixed group with these wooden chopsticks inside the mug here helps in picking which person is in which team.” jeongin holds onto the mug as he pushes it towards each person, picking up the chopsticks one by one. in a countdown, all of you show the chopsticks you picked together as heeseung find his one marked—the same along with you, beomgyu, and ryujin: making you four a team.

the seating arrangements change as you are seated in between the two boys. you’ve already told them that you might not get too physical as you let ryujin and beomgyu play first, playing as luigi and waluigi, respectively. heeseung can hear how you are encouraging your team to play bad as your arms wrap behind beomgyu’s back, making heeseung feel a little iffy but he is just rolling his eyes watching the two using his switch controllers that jeongin asked him to lend out for the eight-peopled stream.

for the past month, as the two groups got closer, heeseung realized how strong your influence is. maybe it’s because you are used to taking care of children—just like his friends’ childish behaviors are—but your demeanor matches well with all of them. when heeseung heard beomgyu invited you and your girls over, he was taken aback by just how easily both groups can blend in with each other. but then he is reminded of what you said on that basketball court: how you want to have a truce with him. how he is so much more ahead of you that you deviate from the sport of basketball that you still seem to enjoy.

heeseung couldn’t join much of the hangout as he was being brought into the season’s games and competing left to right. the scream of his name from the bleachers rings in his ears as he recognizes a few of his fans and decelis’ fans supporting the team as he checks his phone during the break. he remembers how he caught a notification from jeongin’s stream, pressing the banner to see you appearing on it with him as you play guess the song or some sort of game similar to it. then, he remembered one day after you both came out of the doctor park’s office for your biweekly check-up. a sudden proposition you push to him as you hold your phone with the screen showing a familiar social media.

“i’ll follow your instagram and you follow mine back.”

“why?” he questioned, arms wrapped in front of him with squinting eyes.

“that’s another baby step for us to be like what our moms want it to be. you say so yourself.” you also replied with your own wrapped arms in front of you, letting the flowy cloth be pushed towards your body as he could see the shape of it and the appearance of your revealing bump. heeseung let out a groan as he said his username.

“which is your full name?” you raised an eyebrow.

“hey, it’s for personal branding and it’s rare to have a username to be your name…”

you snicker as you hit the follow button, seeing the three-digit number on top now becoming four.

“really? i’m your 1000th follower?” you playfully grab something out of the chest pocket of heeseung’s unbuttoned shirt, placing it near your heart like a badge of rare achievement.

“i’m honored.” your face scrunches, forcing out a tear that is not showing, making you blame your current stable hormone for that not happening. heeseung looked at the notification showing up, a snort coming out of him as he leaned his head closer.

“for fucking real? you’re asking me about why my username is like that while yours is mu- mune ga-“

“mune ga hachikire-sode, ‘my chest seems like it’s going to burst’.” you answered so quickly it’s like you have talked about it before that it became an automated response, earning a pregnant pause as you tilted your head towards him while he stares towards your vicinity. a small gap in between his lips as time passes by without sound between the two of you before he closes the gap and smiles.

“must be a freaking mitski lyric.”

you snorted out a laugh, wondering why he knows you so well.

heeseung gazes at how his friends and your friends seem to thrive under your hyper-ness, even making ryujin jokingly angry because you were unintentionally supporting the other team, making you let out the pout that he doesn’t expect to witness so much from when the semester starts. and now, as it approaches the end with the new year’s coming alongside the gender reveal party coming soon and the last matches for the tournament near the end of the year. life seems to go so fast for him, yet here you are thriving in it. as if you are influenced by some kind of deity that is making people around you notice and care about your presence, frolicking around as you seem to make their lives a tad bit easier to face with your motherly care and, what he acknowledge, your emotional intelligence.

something heeseung had also grown for the past 3 months since you told him you're pregnant with his kids.

the boy realized just how quiet he was when he sensed your shoulder touching his as you leaned back against the sofa to just stare at the screen of jimin screaming how he had to get another star, making him now in first place. a soft smile on your face as you glance at your friends having fun before you feel the trembles against your thigh when you catch heeseung’s leg jittering from how he is moving his achilles’ heel in a random rhythm.

“you alright?” heeseung looks down to find your hand on top of his pant-covered thigh. you give him a thin lip frown as you let your touch soothe him down, seemingly not minding the entire history you have with him. the boy is suddenly too embarrassed to see you as you watch the redness growing on both of his cheeks. you wanted to tease him about it—maybe it’s the awkwardness cause he was not there when you started to get close to his friends—that is showing up now.

as you look at your hand against his thigh, courtesy of your muscles' memory telling you to try soothing every nervous child in your way, you retreat it back to your space before beomgyu wraps his arm around your back to pull you into his embrace while you see the stars and coins are being tallied up alongside additional stars that are given. beomgyu has both hands around your and ryujin’s shoulders as you follow with the momentum, seeing that ryujin got last place–making your team win the first round of mario party.

beomgyu handed the switch controller to his best friend as the game resets for the second round where it is you and heeseung vs. minjeong and jeongin—said girl is focusing on the chat because she is convinced that she caught sungchan’s username there. your cursor instantly picks at rosalina whilst heeseung moves his to pick bowser. peeking to the side, you recognize the competitiveness that is shown from how heeseung is glaring towards the tv screen as you try to flick that same emotion on in your mind. when you feel it tainting you, you give minjeong a sly wink from where you are sitting. that even though she’s one of your best friends, you’re not taking her lightly.

the second game was a tad bit chaotic as physical play was done when jeongin seemed to make mind games by positioning himself behind where you and heeseung sit. yet, the rivalry doesn’t just create between your team and the other team; heeseung has also started playing dirty when he grabs onto your controller to stop you from failing the task.

“ughh!” you groan out as you hear the laugh coming from jimin on the other sofa, making you answer by covering heeseung’s eyes as he couldn’t see where his bowser was supposed to fell off the platform, proclaiming him to win the match and increase the ever-loving coins he owns, making him have to buy the star if he came across it: only five more spaces to go on the board. the way you hinder him from failing and he does the same to you creates a slapstick that jeongin’s chat seems to revel in as you spot jimin reading the text that is running to the top of the monitor as fast as the light goes.

“woah!” he proclaimed as you noticed chaeryeong snickering from the rapidly moving chat. “people seemed to ship you and heeseung, (y/n).”

“no kidding.” you reacted as you stared at the way your rosalina was three spots closer to the star—no choice but to buy one as you got over 20 coins. your body forces you to stand up as you kneel to see the chat, eyes glancing between four points on the screen of jeongin’s laptop: the chat who is now arguing on who are the “correct” ships within the people here, the screen as minjeong rolls the dice for her shy guy to move, beomgyu who leans back against the sofa’s backrest, and heeseung who is leaning forward to the screen before you caught his eyes for a few milliseconds.

“come on, chat. really? me and heeseung?” you audibly scoffed, glancing at your friends that is showing on the stream a few seconds later from the latency. “what about me and beomgyu? he’s also nice to me.”

“I SURE DO, (Y/N).” he said as you could detect him grinning with two thumbs up before he rested his hands behind the sofa by your empty seat. but you could see heeseung’s very obvious scowl as he didn’t say anything. the determination to lose against you may now be influenced with an even more push—because you did say to him that you’re the one losing in your battle.

“not your mods creating a poll for who shipped (y/n) with whom and the fact that (y/n) x jeongin is pretty high too.” chaeryeong stated as you tried to hold back your laughter. with the knowledge; which you’ve just known as you started hanging out with the boys; that jeongin’s mom is an ob-gyn doctor also, he has let you talk to his mom when it’s jeongin’s turn to “babysit” you—"per heeseung’s request" he said—making you show up on jeongin’s stream more often than the other girls as you and he create a more sibling vibe where he teaches you how to game. with the help of every woman around you including jeongin’s mom, you could say that you can expect what you’ll expect for your second and third trimesters and your birth. how jeongin’s mom and doctor park’s sayings are pretty much similar in a way as they remind you that you have to give birth to your twins before week 40 so that they could fit through your hip bone since you want to do it the normal way.

you were glad beomgyu had invited you to meet up. because you felt like you’d met brand new people with whom you seemed to have a sense of familiarity. like old friends having a reunion.

“WOAH! (y/n) x heeseung is no.1!” jimin reacted as all of you heard the chime of a gift sent to jeongin followed by a text-to-speech sound.

“(y/n) and heeseung’s bickering is something i aspire to have with my significant other.” the robot voice sounds as you watch ryujin’s wide eyes getting larger, knowing your real-life relationship as she has been there the longest as of right now alongside beomgyu who is just holding a subtle sheepish smirk.

“bickering because we aren’t compatible with each other? yeah right,” you give a verbal jab as you can see the comments updating a few seconds later when your words are streamed, making people send the sus emote in the chat column but also a few “opposites attract” and “you can get to know each more” comments as you looked at heeseung. the corner of his lips rose as you gave up on reading the chat before sitting down back to your empty seat. your body was instantly ignited in surprise as you could feel how beomgyu was holding your shoulder, stretching his arm behind your shoulders as you were trying your best to use your special dice to lose. then, you sensed a shift on your thigh as you find heeseung’s moving his against yours, either to distract you… or to tell you something you haven’t realized.

heeseung was heaving as the coach took him out of the court to the sidelines to bring sungho in as his replacement. drops of sweat are forming on his exposed forearm while he watches the score of his team nearing 50 in the game's last quarter. sunoo gave him a small towel as he looked to the back to only see none of his friends on the bleachers. other than ryujin, all of them are watching the want2dance crew showcase—you and beomgyu have no information circulating even though his turn to take care of you. heeseung should’ve been ecstatic that he got the ticket for the finale that easily. sure, the rival is strong enough, but with niki now standing as a center alongside sunghoon, they’ve been able to block the shots of the other team with their long limbs and agile jumps.

yet, all he could worry about was how much he had learned for the next appointment with the doula as he was trying to beat you with the advantage you had by the women all around you—including jeongin’s mom he had hidden as a wildcard now exposed to you.

he tried to familiarize his hands with how to hold a baby with a plushy jeongin still owned in his room before he tried using the full 2-liter water bottle he had that was identical to the real weight. heeseung had read the books that the doula recommended to him—well, heard the books that doula had recommended as he worked out with the audiobook version speaking to his ears. yet, the only thing that miss haseul said that he is stuck in his mind as he looks at you who is closing your eyes whilst you stretch your back because of his babies is…

“don’t just stand there.”

heeseung doesn’t just stand there, he does things he tried to help; preparing groceries so that you don’t have to worry about that, carrying your bags around so you don’t have to walk as your stomach is getting bigger than ever from the growing fetuses. yet he knew what the phrase actually implies.

“don’t just stand there.” take care of her, be there for her, love her.

the coach’s board is pushed in front of him as he traces the magnetic jersey symbol with the number 3 representing his position as the small forward if he got to be put on the court once again. since jake is playing as the point guard and how he had been killing it in slipping through the rival’s defense, heeseung’s job is to find an opening so he can throw the ball to either jake or sungho who will stay nearer to the half-circle if heeseung got put in.

“or just try to shoot as many 3-pointers as you like. we have the advantage here and our goal is to make that gap wider. passing 50 would be great.” coach min said, making heeseung turn his head towards the scoreboard, seeing the 45:36 bold in the red LED lights. and with his mind not wanting to wait more for his appointment, his gaze changes as he sounds his understanding to the coach. heeseung stretched his neck when he viewed the coach walk to the side referee so he could be switched back in.

heeseung explains as best as he able to the other four of the court about the plan, making jake and sungho nod their heads and niki with taesan at the back of their side of the court showing their own styles of understanding. the ball was thrown by the rival as taesan snatched it, pivoting on his legs before giving a bounce pass towards heeseung who was running pass the center line near the 3-pointer curve. his head is going into alert mode as he maneuvers the ball so that the rival who is pinning on him won’t steal it. a few passes between him, taesan, and niki; heeseung found an opening to go inside near the basket as he surged forward like a tank, making his own opening as he passed the ball to jake who scored a layup. heeseung recognized the rival could get a free throw chance, but he doubted it would go in as jake and sungho were prepared for a rebound with the second free throw.

the score is now 49:38 as he could see the time is now under 60 seconds. heeseung took control of the ball the most while he tried his best to find an opening for either jake or sungho, but with the change of two players from the other team coming in: they seemed to know his strategy as not one of them was bamboozled by how fast the passes are between him, niki, and taesan. the others figured out they had only one chance left to do a foul. they knew they only had 15 seconds till the shot clock ran out and under 30 seconds on the time of the scoreboard. heeseung realized something, something that can be stupid but will have a better chance of a happy ending in the end.

as heeseung bounces the ball on the ground towards niki—not strong enough like the last few times—the rival successfully robbed the ball as the shot clock resets. all the boys retreated as heeseung was the first one to hold off on the guy who was holding the ball, seemingly not knowing what to do with the ball in his possession. heeseung knows that they’re doing this to play defense against decelis because they don't want the gap to get even wider.

their passes aren’t as quick as his team's when taesan successfully clutches the ball and passes it to heeseung. the clock is under 5 seconds and he heard the growing sound of people counting down from the seats. he knew he couldn’t lay up as it would be too far or even shooting in the safer throwing area even if it gave a higher chance is risky. no, heeseung flung the ball as best as he could after passing the center line. the buzzing sound signals the end of the game as heeseung stares at the ball falling in an arch so perfectly that it gets caught by the net and instantly falls through with no theatrics, making everyone roar.

“there it is, folks. lee heeseung, number 1 from decelis, makes the game as he scores a 3-pointer buzzer-beater. AND SUCCEEDED. congratulations to hybe’s decelis. you will enter the grand finale after the new year’s celebration.”

he could sense the embrace of his teammates around him. jungwon is the closest as he playfully brushes his sweaty hair, making him glare, and wants to go out of the embrace when it’s two layers of players deep. coach min comes and gives his own thumbs up before guiding him near the referee's place as he and his team are met with the rivals, who show their sportsmanship by shaking their hands. heeseung recognizes of one of the players when said player wraps his arm around his shoulders. the announcer with a small bundle full of snacks.

“and here he is. player of the match, lee heeseung of decelis!”

heeseung hears the ovations coming from the decelis side of the bleachers as he receives the bundle, knowing that he would ravish this in one go because, my god, is he starving. congratulatory talks are spoken among the players as if it’s more of a friendly match rather than in a tournament setting, yet as heeseung walks around to meet the team he had his match with, the reminder of the appointment pinned on his mind rings once again.

pulling up to the assigned locker room, he pulls off his jersey so he can wipe his sweaty body using a smaller towel that is wet with water cause he doesn’t think that he has enough time to shower when the appointment is in an hour. feeling the clean wet towel getting rid of the stickiness on his body, he eyes his teammates who are still gleaming from their win of the ticket to the grand final. yet, for heeseung, he had been numb to the feeling. of course, he had to do well with basketball because it was for his scholarship, but knowing that he had possibly secured the scholarship for his final semester, he could actually relax from it and focus on other things in life.

his desire to be a sports journalist and, now, his preparation to be a dad.

“guys, i’m not gonna join to eat after this,” he spoke out after he heard jake asking him. a regular post-match meal is a tradition with the decelis guys. but heeseung has other places to go as he uses his body spray all over his torso and tucks his head and arms into his clean t-shirt, the decelis jersey’s bottom with the #1 still in place, and a pair of recovery sandals to let his feet breathe. heeseung gave the guys his bag of cheetos from the ‘player of the match’ bundle as little cookies and chocolates are enough to satiate his needs, knowing that he could buy takeout as he returned to his apartment, or if you also wanted to grab something to eat after meeting haseul.

the engine groans as the car turns alive. heeseung pulls out of the parking lot of the arena as he drives towards the office, the radio playing his own bluetooth-connected music as he recovers himself from the euphoria of the match, returning to the reality of his other responsibilities. he hadn’t heard from you for a while—when usually you are the one to nag if he has arrived or about his whereabouts as you prepare yourself to meet him. he was glad that he could enjoy the calmness even for just a few minutes, seeing the various silhouettes of the outside world passing by when the office building shows up in his sight from his windshield.

heeseung presses the button to lock the car as he approaches the office in his post-match outfit, a tote bag hanging from his shoulders that is filled with the notes haseul, doctor park, and jeongin’s mom gave to him printed as he might ask for some elaboration about it. though most doulas focus on the mom, he is glad that haseul can also handle first-time fathers as well because, as she said, “sometimes the dad is the more anxious one out of the two.” he acknowledges this because, as he had a talk with his own dad about this, the pregnancy is out of the dad’s control most of the time. especially in giving birth, as the only thing that they could do was to observe how the birthing was going. which means that he has to trust you to do your deed.

he recalled haseul given him and you a “bonding” exercise which is filled with laughter instead as both of you couldn’t be serious enough about this. how you both had to stay in eye contact for 5 minutes to “feel your connection getting tighter”. sometimes, he had to blink or look away from your eyes cause it was piercing with unknown emotions. but he got reminded of when both of you had sex, that final part when he is just staring at you as you sit on his shaft, grinding to find out who will cum first to break the tie. the feeling was similar—an unspoken bond created between the two full of complex history and emotions he has to untangle one by one.

heeseung’s knuckles knocked on the door as he heard the movement inside. the door opened to let him see haseul in her professional clothing.

“heeseung! come in.” she steps aside as he is met with haseul and…

nobody else.

“where’s (y/n)?”

haseul turns her head to him, “i thought you knew, she didn’t say that we’re cancelling today’s appointment.”

“hmm…” heeseung replied as he grabbed his phone, seeing the instagram notifications from the people who tagged him in the match for being the ‘player of the match’. but, when he sees your account profile flashing on the top—the newly followed account as you both did a follow-for-follow—he taps the icon to see you and beomgyu in your instagram stories, how you hooked your arm with beomgyu’s as you walk down a sidewalk, how you recorded chaeryeong dancing with her crew and tag her, how he had seen a photo of you, beomgyu, minjeong, jeongin, chaeryeong, and jimin after the show, and a photo of food at the end as he sees you tag all of his friends and yours, including ryujin who seemed to be available to do a get together because of her modeling appointment.

all except him.

to say that heeseung is heartbroken by that is an understatement. sure not all of his guys are available to watch him play all the time—only jeongin showed up to his quarter-final match last time, but to realize that the change of dynamic happened because of you is making the flint in his heart move faster to ignite the fire. and to know that you didn’t even cancel the appointment, to leave haseul hanging, when you have babies to take care of as you have used your own money to pay for the appointment, while you do a get-together that can be done anytime during the rest of the 3 months of your pregnancy. the changes within the dynamic for the past two months are ridiculous and heeseung…

all he could do was sigh as he closed his phone, glancing up to glance at haseul who had a warm smile on her face.

“well, i have a few things i hope you elaborate on.” the boy said, using this appointment to help him be the better parent.

“shit!”

you had to stop yourself from walking as you perceived the contractions coming from your uterus, the same feeling when you had your period, yet it’s dimmer and longer. as the weather gets colder, you tucked your coat that is draping outside of your maternity dress and legging on. you have to thank chaeryeong once again for helping you put it on. the two of them continue to grow inside you as you walk the familiar path towards the boys’ apartment, as per heeseung request cause jeongin told him they wanted to play a game together and you, being the new addition to jeongin’s stream, seemed to be asked to join in.

you could deny it. but you can join cause you have nearly all of your class projects finished, especially the marketing research one as you use the daycare as the protagonist of your case study to figure out how to market a product to different parents. you still have two exams for the two other classes you took this semester and then, it’s all done for you. and with the warmth you receive from the boys, you want to give it back to them too.

you give a small nod to the security guard as you press the button for the elevator, seeing one of the two open as you are greeted with the empty elevator with reflective sheets of metal surrounding the side walls. as you practically waddle inside the elevator and press the correct floor button, you gaze at yourself through the mirror-like surface. turning your body to the side, you view how your coat protrudes from the front as it creates a right triangle shape. moving one side of the coat behind, you observe how your maternity clothes are stretched by your belly to show the growing lives inside of you. the growing lives you can feel are moving around, but haven’t reached out to you as you can only sense them within you. you need to blame heeseung because of the way they push up your intestines, making you very much nauseous all the time after you eat.

the ring of the elevator dings stayed as you walked and arrived at the front door of the boys’ apartment. no sound is heard from the other side—maybe jeongin is waiting for you to arrive so he can start the stream together. the sound of the doorbell is picked up as you gaze at the camera lens connected to the intercom inside before you to the door when you catch the footsteps approaching from behind the door.

appearing before you is heeseung in a white graphic t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. he seems to have a slight pant with his breathing—like he was working out. you’ve opened your mouth as you saw, wanting to talk about something, but you forgot what as you see him rolling his eyes and a “come in” is spoken, leaving you alone by the cabinet for their shoes as you tried your best to slip out of it without the help of your hands.

the apartment is in the regular state rather than the group stream set jeongin had to do. a duffle bag of what looks like to be heeseung’s has a few pairs of basketball shoes—known for the tall shape as it guards your ankle more than regular sports shoes. the wooden floorboard is warm as you guessed he had to turn the heater on, making your way towards the hallways where heeseung and jeongin’s rooms are across from each other.

that’s when you hear a sound.

the sound of nothingness as you approached jeongin’s ajar bedroom door, seeing it empty.

“where’s jeong-?”

“we have to talk, (l/n).” heeseung cuts you off again as he turns his head to face you, his hand on his door so he can just push it open as you stare at him, agape.

“jeongin’s with his stray kids guys doing a group stream,” he added as he knows you wouldn’t stop asking if you don’t know, especially cause jeongin’s the one who invited you—which makes you finally think about how it’s so weird that he had to go through heeseung to invite you when he could just message you through the instagram dm. heeseung gave you one more gaze before going inside his room, leaving the door open as you could feel the swelling tension that was heavier than what your usual banter had been for the past few months.

walking inside, you were met with the wrinkled mattress and comforter of heeseung’s bed. the same bed that you and him copulate and in return, create the babies inside you. the last time you went into his room fully—cause you never went inside his room even though you visited often either beomgyu or jeongin’s invitations—was the night you and him fucked. you didn’t recognize the amount of basketball paraphernalia that is sticking to his walls last time as you finally view it, a poster of what looks like alternative rock bands cause you recognized the paramore, the arctic monkeys, and even the american football posters.

heeseung’s figure reaches his desk and he sits on the chair by it, caressing his face with his hands as you can see the way his facial muscles contort around his eyebrows and forehead.

“what are we talking about?” you lightly scoffed as you stood in front of heeseung, who lifted his head with a tenacious look on his face.

“where were you in the past three weeks?” you can pick up how he spoke with his teeth grinding against each other.

“why’d you care? you’ve seen me all the time. heck, i saw you last week when i came to visit beomgyu-“

“NO!” he stood up after you jumped from his sudden, unprovoked shout. taking a few steps, you are frozen on your feet as he approaches.

“you really don’t fucking care, huh?” heeseung now lets out a huge scoff as he rolls his eyes, very obviously. instead, he was met by another confused and offended look by you. "what does he mean by i don’t fucking care?” you spoke to yourself as he then reply, adding a needed context.

“the fucking appointments, (l/n)(y/n).” his nostrils are so wide that he might as well breathe fire out, making you stunned as your defenses are crumbling down when you realized what he is going to talk about.

you recall the past three weeks, jogging your mind through the endless activities you’ve done such as going out with the girls, going out with ryujin, beomgyu, and jeongin, busying yourself as your interviewing yoonah and the other coworkers for your study case, helping sungchan recover from his hangover as he stayed a night at your apartment—his frat house is overwhelmingly full so that he went back along with minjeong so they could fuck all night, helping ryujin styled for her photoshoot, helping chaeryeong bring the food to her dance crew so they could eat, meeting jimin whilst there, remembering the dance crew show-

the dance crew show you watched with your friends.

trying to comb the calendar in your mind, you’ve just realized that you missed that appointment that day. and then another one last week, the week when beomgyu introduced you to his bandmates as you visited their studio.

“oh fuck…”

“oh fuck, indeed.” heeseung sarcastically mimics you. you tried to hold your head up, but with the way the guilt for not showing up to your doula’s appointment, you could see the slight smirk that was threatening to grow on heeseung’s lips. but he seemed to hold it back as he let out a sigh, a shaky one.

“i’ve been trying, trying to be kind towards you. to give you the fucking benefit of the doubt with what you told me at the basketball court and i believe it. i believed it yet you don’t think about anything after that.” his hand reaches to be placed on his chest as you hold yourself still, fist pushing down to make you stand tall.

“you don’t think i don’t sacrifice as much as you do for them? i sacrifice my time and my friends' time to cater to you who is growing my babies inside you. yet you started to not think about them when you seemed to get everything on your way.” the man says as you can see the way he is grinding his teeth down, yet it still sounds so clear as you get your mind to think straight. heeseung is shaking his head as he can’t hold back the smirk that is slowly growing.

“WOW! OKAY!” you take a step back as the spreading shock of what he told you were triggering the same ever-fiery feelings you also have inside. “that’s a fucking low blow, lee.”

“what other word should i say it with? you’re having my babies, yet here you are being touchy with my friends and forgetting your freaking responsibilities-“

“but slutting myself is such a fucking wrong word to use. that’s too fucking much.” you retaliate back, crossing your arms in front of your stomach as you feel the instinct kicking to protect them. “other than me carrying your babies, you don’t fucking own me, lee heeseung. i can establish whatever relationships that i want and you’re just making yourself look like a jealous boy who can’t seem to make his, fucking, whatever, partner be happy yet the people around you can.”

it is now heeseung’s turn who is stunned, yet his scrunch face still telling him that, even though the word he uses is such an overkill, he is still telling the truth. the truth that seemed to make you fired up to do the offense on him.

“heck, i could’ve terminated them if i didn’t consider you-“

he lets his muscles relax, yet you can recognize just how glassy his eyes are also, mirroring yours. “you have much more powerful control over this relationship than me. you have the fucking right to do whatever you want with yourself. but what’s in it for me? i gave you my savings and we are paying for the appointment together and you become so ungrateful as time goes by not going to them. like i’m just a wallet to you.”

heeseung’s hand reaches towards his cheekbone, his fingers grazes near the corner of his eyes as you watch the whites becoming pink—holding the emotions that he wants to let out but knowing that his friends could be collateral damage to it too now that they have a good relationship with you and your friends.

“i don’t even know what will happen after you give birth to them? are you still going to ignore me and raise them on your own when i have sacrificed even my savings money to pay for this stuff we have to do?”

your throat is dry as you listen to heeseung’s little sobs and sniffles, sensing the way your heart has dropped until it reaches the depths of your being. to then being told the truth that, yes, you are selfish for getting everything you have at the expense of heeseung, who you just now realized is retreating. how the glances at you when you’re with beomgyu, jeongin, or jimin give an annoyed but also a tinge of sadness in them. you now realize that even with heeseung being their roommate, he might not have much time with them anymore because of his basketball practices and with the way you and your friends are hoarding them from him.

“i-“ heeseung’s eyebrows raise as he hears you speak, “i gotta go.” you shake your head, not wanting to openly bawl in front of heeseung as you quickly exit the suffocating space.

the way his voice is calling your name echoes and makes you move faster as you slide your feet inside your shoes before opening the door and quickly and uncomfortably running toward the elevator. pressing the button as fast as possible as the elevator dings, pushing the close button as fast as you can as if you can pick up heeseung’s approaching footsteps.

the elevator door closes as it will bring you to the lobby. you lean back against the wall as you feel the uncomfortable folded-back part of the shoes you wear. damn you for deciding to wear a high-ankle one. you knew it would be hard to fold your leg to just slip the back to cover your heels. but the only thing you could resort to is to sit down on the elevator floor to put them on. quick!

you curse to yourself when your belly is the thing that makes it hard for you to slip it on. you still eye the ever-decreasing number of floors as you are reminded to try sitting with your knees so you can reach the back more easily. your body is doing acrobats more than the exercises haseul has told you to do, but when you feel the flaps now resting behind your feet, you can just stand up and go your merry way-

the elevator door opens when you hear the familiar exclamation of your name before buff arms are helping to make you stand up on your feet.

“did you fall?” jimin is looking at you with worry, leaving his bag outside as you can predict he has finished his class for today. but, with the way that heeseung told you of his friends, the guilt boils up to burn you once again.

“ji-jimin, i gotta go fast. so sorry,” you replied as you pushed yourself out of jimin’s grasp. sure, you could talk to him on what his opinion of you and what heeseung thinks of you. but, you aren’t as close to him as you are with beomgyu.

and that’s where you are bringing yourself.

remembering the band practice he had talked to you about through chat, you walked into the familiar studio area of the campus where he usually is. the hallway inside was getting darker as you entered, the evening time reminding the students to rest for the day as you watched many of them going towards where you came from. the hallway by the door of the studio is dark with only the light and sound of a guitar coming from behind the door’s window. taking a glimpse, you can see beomgyu who is riffing on one of txt’s songs. his long hair shielded his face enough to cause your heart to beat faster than before. well, before remembering what heeseung has told to you. yet, here you are, trying—in a way—to validate that the reason you’ve neglected your appointment is for a good cause for yourself.

beomgyu’s head is lifted as he hears the knocking, looking at the window as his smile widens to see you. you want to reply with the same—you always have been able to—but the underlying emotions you’re experiencing stop you as you try to give the widest smile you can at that moment. the handle turns as you push inside, sensing the warmth of the studio competing against the breeze of the cold weather.

“why are you here?” beomgyu said, his guitar dangling in front of him by the strap.

“so, i can’t be here?” you try to banter, a frown on your face that you usually share with him now has a different reaction as he pulls off the guitar and places it on the speaker before approaching you.

“no, no. of course you can be here,” he replied, the giddiness fell out of him as you noticed why he did that: the swollen eyes that you probably got from tearing up on the way here. remembering your wrongdoings that hurts more than what you and heeseung have gotten through in ages.

as beomgyu leaned closer, he opened his embrace to you, letting you in his arms as you felt the warmth enveloping you, trying to brush away every cold patch that touched your body. yet, it couldn’t touch your heart as much as you want. you wanted to bawl. maybe beomgyu can allow you to bawl into his shoulders. but with what you are doing next, the probability of that will be split.

you were the first one to lean back, hands holding onto his shoulder as he gaped at you with a curious smile before it slowly droops down as you gaze between his eyes and lips. leaning forward, you lean your head and let your lips meet his. the grip on his shoulders was strong as you tried not to tremble. finally. finally, giving in to what you wanted for a long time now.

you could feel the familiar tingling feeling warming your heart as beomgyu just… stands there. for you, that’s enough because at least you told him what you feel based on your actions. but the pausing was too much for your liking, and you can perceive the warmth in your heart getting hotter, too hot, that is giving you searing pain once again.

leaning back, you can see the blank face that is showing on beomgyu’s face. with a heavy heart, you still try to give an optimistic smile that isn’t reciprocated with what you expect. instead, beomgyu is shrugging, a normal expression on his face and you can sense the tears once again forming.

“please,” you whispered, “please tell me you feel the same way as i do for the past few months.” you silently cry.

the boy in question, beomgyu, gives a solemn smile instead. “i’m so, so, sorry (y/n). but i don’t feel the same way.” he is shaking to signal to himself that yes, he doesn’t reciprocate.

however, this is making you question everything.

“then why are you so nice to me? why are you always asking about me or my friends? why are you always joining us?”

“i do like you, (y/n). but, i can’t like you like that-“

“why?” the sound of everything seems to pause as you see beomgyu glances away at something before an unknown yet warm smile that exudes from him startles you.

“first, you’re pregnant with my best friend’s baby- sorry, babies. plural,” he corrects himself, “and second, the night that you and heeseung hooked up. ryujin and i also hooked up-“

“wait WHAT?” your heart is already hurting from the denial because you are heeseung’s baby mama. but the thing about ryujin shocks you.

“so yeah. we both hooked up at your apartment and i got more hooked. i was already hooked when we all were in high school and,”

you couldn’t continue hearing him ramble about ryujin just like how you ramble to the same girl about beomgyu since freaking high school. gosh, that fucking hurts. to know that your crush has a crush on your best friend really hurts. your crush who is best friends with your rival. you want to get a grip on your high school self so she could find out about it because you were too lovesick about beomgyu but despised heeseung as best as you can to not see that. now it just depends on ryujin, but you don’t want to pressure her like that. she’s discovering her queerness and you love her for that and you don’t want a boy to get in between you.

but between you and the boy… well…

you actually let out such an unserious laugh as you realized how totally bamboozled you have been for the past few months. it is helping you spread the pain so that it doesn’t hurt your heart and brain so much.

“you’re using me, ME, so that you can get closer to ryujin,” you sounded with exasperation as while you laughed, you could feel the tears free-falling on your cheek. “to use the attempt to bring boxes of ingredients, picking me up, just to have a glimpse of ryujin once in a while.”

with the quick succession of changes in your emotions, beomgyu just realized what eldritch horror he is summoning: a girl with a broken heart.

“you must be so fucking happy when i say yes to going out with you. a hook, line, and fucking sinker as you get the fish that will lead you to ryujin. yet you’re fucking stringing me along all this fucking time.” you got reminded of the group streams yours and beomgyu’s gang done twice now, to finally noticing just how touchy beomgyu is with ryujin—wrapping his arm behind where she sits—that when you lean against him, you didn’t realize that he was leaning against her too.

“fuck you, choi beomgyu!” you exclaimed as you retreated, tucking the front of your coat to cover your belly once again as the feelings hit you one by one, rushing out of the studio as you run. your tears clouding your sight as you don’t care where you are going. rushing past people as you are met with the pink evening sky as the sun is setting.

you stood by a sidewalk, the tears falling out as you sobbed into the space in front of you. looking downwards, you can see the babies you are holding. you just want to be alone now to wallow in your sadness that is kicking harder because of the hormone you must have to grow them inside them, holding them so you know they are there with you. it really is just you and them against the world.

and they agree with the thought of you buying fried chicken because you can feel them kicking against your touch.

it actually worries ryujin that you didn’t go out of your room for anything other than work, exams, or appointments.

her eyes gaze at the door to your room that has been haunting her mind for the past two weeks. a systematic cycle was built as, even with chaeryeong’s persuasions as your mood maker, you won’t go out of your room to even eat.

it started on the day when she and the rest of the girls were worried when you weren't home by midnight. ryujin believed they blow your phone up so bad that it makes you more reluctant to go home, but she remembered she got your phone saved on her find my phone app and they decided to track you using it. their discovery leads them to find you sleeping in a booth of a chicken fast-food restaurant as the leftover bones are left behind. the restaurant is nearly empty with only the employees who work the graveyard shift remaining there to cater to the night people. ryujin doesn’t mind carrying you into the backseat of chaeryeong’s car, but she can definitely feel the heat that is growing on your forehead as the car skidded home.

she heard you grumble as they helped to place you on your bed, making you lay down as they helped you change your clothes. minjeong comes in and brings a wet towel to be put on your forehead before chaeryeong gives you a bowl of cream soup that she hopes you will eat when you are awake. ryujin couldn’t get mad to see you like this—she recognized the dried tear marks fallen from the corner of your eyes. but, the way it spilled into your everyday life for the next two weeks is something she couldn’t comprehend. because you have never been this depressed before.

every time she hears the clicking of your door, she lets out a smile and a warm greeting to then meet you who gives her a small smile yet with no spoken reply as you carry your backpack to wherever you want to go that day. minjeong tried to come along with you, but with a stretch of a hand forward and an open palm; still showing the same small smile, you mouthed a no to her as you went out of the apartment.

because heeseung was busy in doing his exams, beomgyu is still coming by to give the box of ingredients for the week. but ryujin sees that something is bothering him as much as it bothers her. he replies with the same smile and greeting to her—maybe a bit more forward than what she used to—but it feels different when she is used to hearing your greetings towards him as you stood beside her to pick the box up.

this week, it wasn’t even beomgyu who is at her front door.

heeseung stood at the door with the box as he took a glimpse in as best as he could, asking for your whereabouts and why you didn’t answer his texts. ryujin wants to tell him the truth—that you’ve begun your hermit arc as you stay in your room. but she knows how sophisticated your relationship is with him that she can’t bear to let out the truth, saying that you’re outside at that time. but then heeseung told her something.

“help me reach her. she’s been rescheduling all the appointments with both the doctor and doula without me knowing and canceling the ones that we have scheduled together.”

“the receptionist doesn’t tell you anything?” she asked.

“patient confidentiality. and haseul is also by her side cause she won’t tell me when is (y/n)’s appointment.”

ryujin thinks that, if you are not with a child right now, you might not even open the door to get your meal in and you might never even go out other than for your work and exam. it seems that you are preparing yourself to be the vessel for your babies so you can give birth to them healthily, eating and drinking for them, but not for you.

she knows just how sad you are by the way you are wailing with the sound of your guitar muffled in your room. she listens to your rendition of mitski songs from behind the walls that are still small enough to not annoy the neighbors on all sides. with the exam season nearly done as you are there to finish up your research project, it makes you not go out of your room at all unless it’s for the bathroom. nobody is ever asked to pick you up for appointments or work at the daycare because you will then arrive and go back to your room all by yourself.

it’s sad to see you like this. so ryujin hopes what minjeong is doing could help you.

the guitar wailing is still heard as chaeryeong and minjeong walk from the kitchen with the buckets of popcorn, a homemade burger just for you, and juices around them as they still promise to follow your diet—though not as strict as you. minjeong walks towards your room as chaeryeong reads the synopsis of the cd cover of tonight’s movie.

“hiya, (y/n). i know we have been so busy for the past two months or so,” ryujin listens to minjeong words after her knocking on your door killing the sound of the guitar from your room. “we’re having a movie night and it’s one of the japanese movies in your watchlist. you are very much welcome to watch with us.”

there’s a long, pregnant pause as minjeong says the last words, turning her head towards ryujin who gives her a tight-lip smile as she looks at the hallway from the end of the sofa. minjeong lets out her own small smile as she turns her head towards the living area to grab the cd from the table and crouches down to put it onto the player. ryujin glances at chaeryeong who gives her own solemn smile, whispering, “just by the look of the cover, i know we will be crying.”

just then, they heard the sound of a door opening. all of their eyes turn towards the entrance of the hallway to see you emerging. no words are spoken because all of them still want to give you space as you’re the one now reaching out to connect to them after their trials and tribulations.

chaeryeong pats the seat between herself and ryujin as you let out a chuckle, letting them see just how big your belly is getting for carrying your still ever-growing babies. ryujin gives you the burger plate as you give a warm yet solemn smile, making chaeryeong lean close to you as minjeong turns off the lights and lets chaeryeong press play.

the movie starts with a scene on a train. a green filter filled the screen as only the white noise from the moving train filled the room. a young girl and young boy sit across from each other, a large suitcase in between them. and the boy whose clothes are similar to the suitcase—tattered—clutches onto it so gently.

to say that the movie is profound is an understatement. it is filled with wholesome scenes of children—siblings—playing with each other. that is, before the realization hits all of you as they had to fend for themselves to live. but it definitely hits you hard as you lean against ryujin’s shoulder, her hands in fist because of how furious she is while watching everything is going badly for the children. while you, you are actually sobbing. maybe because you have a profound relationship with children, and are a future mom yourself, your emotions exploded as you felt the despair, happiness, and rage all throughout.

it definitely is cathartic to you because you have been burying your feelings back. to see the children being abandoned is hurting you because you have seen children like them firsthand when you are volunteering in your second year. you definitely are mad at yourself for putting nobody knows in your watchlist, but you can now say that you’re grateful for minjeong to remember it because it is definitely the cathartic release you need after burying so many emotions at the same time.

as the credit rolls, you can feel the way your babies are moving inside of you. as if to remind you to at least, please, don’t abandon them.

the waterfall of tears as you sob caught the attention of your friends, who are also in various levels of tearing up in the eyes to full-on bawling with rage. you can only let out a small smile as you hear minjeong sniffle before standing up, making you open your arms to let her into your embrace. you can sense actual warmth for the first time in a while as it shields you from the cold, literally and figuratively. more arms come to wrap around you as you felt both ryujin and chaeryeong’s faces beside your ears. to know that they understand it hits you more because you are with a child.

maybe, there is still warmth in life than what you expected. after contemplating so much about the actions that you’ve done—ranging from the earliest memories of when you and heeseung were young to the way beomgyu broke your cracked heart into pieces when you confessed—you realized that you are selfish. that you haven’t got the ability to step back and take in everything and to find your priorities, because now with babies growing inside of you, your priorities are changing as you start to love them more and more.

the pettiness that you and heeseung have for each other really shielded you from what heeseung truly is: a good man. a man who cares for others. a man who is willing to trust you, even with the amount of history you both have. how he also has his own priorities and needs, but he decided to give them to you—well, your babies. sure, he’s not perfect. his anger making him say something that is so out of line in your relationship. but you understand where he is coming from. you understand the amount of jealousy seeping through when the doula gives you instruction yet he is just there, doing nothing other than being reminded to always have a good communication line with you.

maybe, it is the time for change. because if you can allow yourself to have his children, you should also allow yourself to let him into your life.

so that your children will not be abandoned by both of their parents.

to learn that his mom is so excited is an understatement. to know that both his and your moms have been planning for your joint gender reveal and baby shower—because of your busy schedules—is like seeing them being kids once again.

heeseung looks to the backyard of his house, the venue of the event, which is filled with more neutral earthy color from the theme that they asked you about. he didn’t chime in because he is busy—but he also wants to at least forget the way genuine hurt show up on his face when he called you a slut. to then lose contact with you for the past month as he is frustrated. yet again, you were the one blocking him from the information he has the right to know. and with the way you try to avoid him as much as possible on campus, you are now entering your third trimester, the end of the year is near, and both of your families believe that you both are together, all of those complexities are swirling in his head as he has to try his best to face one by one.

“heeseung!” he heard his dad speak loudly from outside the room, “the guests are here, come greet them. it’s your party to host.”

“coming.” he took one last look at his outfit, a simple creme-colored shirt tucked into his black jeans, as he walked outside of the door towards the living area and the backyard when he caught the appearance of the table with shiny bracelets and flower-charmed bracelets: a jewel for a boy and a flower for a girl. he could see that some of his boys were there, picking between two types of bracelets so they could guess what are the genders of both of his babies.

“come on! the idea of heeseung hyung having two boys will be scary.” jake says towards jay who picked up gold and silver bracelets, respectively.

“but it’s plausible…”

“so is hyung having two girls, right?” jake replied as heeseung looked down to find the different color flower-charmed bracelets in his hand. the other guys are also talking to each other as sunoo was the one who approached him first.

“hey, heeseung hyung. how are you feeling?” the kind boy asked as he could feel his emotion lighten up when seeing the younger boy’s eye smile.

“oh… you know, a bit nervous actually.” heeseung chuckled as he looked at the boy’s wrist, seeing both kinds of bracelets on each of his hands.

“i’m team ‘heeseung hyung is boy-girl dad’ and the guys don’t believe me actually.” sunoo replied, seeing sunghoon turning to him and saying, “that’s cause it’s rarer, sunoo-yah.”

“i know,” said boy replied as heeseung chuckled, looking towards another table that is full of gifts often found in baby showers. since nobody knew of the genders of his babies, he saw all different types of clothing of all colors there, a few baby diapers, and essentials that would be helpful to stock at home. most of them are gender neutral but he sees a few of specific gender ones he has to think to give away if his pair of kids will be only gender specifically–or he could hold on to it so that he can make them dress neutrally.

“we didn’t give much other than two sets of baby clothing. broke college students, after all.” sunoo speaks as if to explain the situation he recognized so much.

“that’s definitely enough, sun.” heeseung chuckled as he patted sunoo’s shoulder. that’s when he heard the commotion from inside the living area from behind the glass doors, the room where his mom is with his extended family and a few mutual friends of his. he looked through it to watch a crowd coming inside; what looked to be your side of the people—your friends from college like yunjin and kazuha, your roommates of course plus sungchan who is bringing eunseok too, to what it seemed like your extended family before he sees you coming in: taking his breath away.

you are bigger than the last time he saw you. you are also wearing a color similar to his, but in a midi dress style, and he sees his mom hugging you before holding onto your belly. he let his eyes watch you comfortably as you looked around the familiar and unfamiliar faces before you connected your own sight with his.

heeseung thought you had almost forgotten the fake dating aspect of this whole fiasco you are in with him. but when you open the sliding door and in a one-way direction towards him, he lets himself being embraced by you as his hands automatically move to wrap around you. he couldn’t lean in closer because of your pronounced baby bump, but you moved back a little to look at him. a smile on your face as he sees you seemed to be more at ease, maybe because of your classes being finished and such, but you are on a completely different side of the spectrum because he is here, still struggling to juggle all the things.

“you okay?” you are the one that asked as you gaze at heeseung’s unreadable expression, making you chuckle as you can’t help the influence you have on him, but also the influence he has on you as you could pick up your heart beating faster.

“yeah…” he replied, making you lean in.

“follow my lead 'cause your mom literally introduced me as your girlfriend. unless you get a grip to know what it implies, hee,” you whispered as his eyes changed, his hand now traced down to your lower back as he stayed by your side.

acting with himself is something so easy for him. after all, he has to act while in front of your parents when he is facing you, which he has done since he knows how. but, now, acting with you seems so natural. too natural, actually. how you’re bringing him around as he introduced yourself to your aunt and your now first-grader cousin—"that’s the kid that i babysit for the first time" you added—and the way you acted like nothing happened for the past month stuns him so much.

the way your facial expression moves along as you and his friends seem to be low-key teasing both of you—he caught a glimpse of jimin recording him being dragged by you past the crowd on video—just seemed so much more than acting. but you are acting, correct?

well, that was when you caught onto beomgyu’s gaze that he could see your expression chipping away; when you returned him with only a small smile before pivoting towards heeseung as he could see your nose crunching while smiling. with that, lee heeseung actually kind of regrets by telling that to you. he kind of regrets that he hurt you.

the festivity was very modest to say the least, especially since both of your parents are the ones paying cause they’re just too happy to have grandchildren with each other. the pile of baby items is stacking up as more people are picking their guesses. all the party needs is the arrival of your coworker and it’s done.

when said coworker arrives with what looks to be a bag of crowns: a pair of faux gold crowns and a pair of flower crowns. he looks towards you who is smiling before biting your lips as you approach her and give her a hug, bringing her to him.

“this is yoonah from the daycare, well technically, she’s my boss,” you spoke, introducing the woman who is older by a few years.

“and this is heeseung, the baby daddy.” yoonah pulls out her hand as heeseung shakes it, pain surging through his hand as the grip on it is so hard.

“listen to me, heeseung. if you ever hurt her again, i swear to any kind of god out there that i will hurt you first.” yoonah said with gritted teeth and menacing eyes before pulling back, making heeseung’s doe-like eyes turns towards you who was giving him a shrug as you tell your mom on the main event.

“gather around, friends and family. the main event is going to start!” she said so giddily as his mom brought both of you to the other side of the backyard, facing towards the house where the people you invited were in front of both of you.

“thank you so much for everyone for coming to the baby shower/gender reveal combo for (y/n) and heeseung’s babies.” yoonah hosted with both poise and excitement in her voice—no wonder that she also works in a daycare. “i have here two pairs of crowns that will show the genders of both babies, which i know since (y/n) asked me to be with her for her latest appointment. i will put the corresponding crown on the two parents’ heads.”

heeseung can see the crowd gleaming at the thought of seeing both you and heeseung wearing the corresponding crowns according to their guesses. he glances at his boys who are sporting all the flower-charmed bracelets; except for jeongin, who has one silver bracelet and one flower bracelet on his wrist. and then to your girls who are sporting mostly both kinds of bracelets except for ryujin who wears two gold bracelets.

“(y/n), heeseung, please close your eyes and take a bow,” yoonah said as he turned to you, who gave him a subtle nod. your hand reaches to grab his as you both face forward and he closes his eyes before bowing his head forward.

all he could feel was the way the cold breeze blew against his skin and how his grip on yours tightened as he could feel something on his head, making the sound of the crowd growing before the grass ruffles in front of him to where you at as the crowd lets out a huge ovation. he can hear his friends’ laughter when he picks up yoonah saying, “you both can open your eyes.”

lifting his eyelids, he lets the shiny view come in as he turns towards you, seeing the shock on your face as he gazes at you wearing a golden crown. he grabs onto his own crown as he touches the petals of flowers on it, picking yours up also to show you what’s on your head. you can’t help but step towards him, taking in a big embrace that heeseung reciprocates as he sees both crowns on his hands behind you.

a boy and a girl.

heeseung was actually speechless when he retreated, letting you take the flower crown before placing it on his head, scrapping around his hair so that it looks better as he lets the gold crown glide on top of your hair where he puts it.

he could see the way his friends crumble and glee in excitement because of the revelation. sunoo’s cackling comes from the basketball guys and it combines with jeongin’s who is also recorded jimin and beomgyu, jokingly weeping because they’re wrong. your friends are also teasing ryujin for picking the wrong combination as heeseung rests his hand on your back.

“ok, sorry, one last thing everyone.” your mom interrupts the total chaos of emotions being spilled before turning towards you two. “i know that we have the gender reveal and baby shower together and we have so many outfits and items that will be useful for you to raise both of your babies. but you might be asking ‘where are we going to put this?’ well…”

your mom opens her arm so that his mom comes into her hold. the grin that they are trying to say signals that they're now fully loaded for something.

“we don’t want you two lovebirds being apart while raising babies. well… let’s just say that your parents and (y/n)’s parents have paid the down payment on a new apartment…”

heeseung actually reacted the same way as you, jaw dropped, eyebrows scrunched as you and he turned your heads at the same to face each other. you mouthed a ‘what the fuck’ towards him as he shakes his head, saying to you he also don’t know shit about this.

you and he are going to live together.

he could actually read your face this time, the face that he has already recognized for a long time—the face of when you want to refute. but, with the way your eyes seemed to crease as the rest of the bafflement poured out, you realize you couldn’t refute back to them unlike how you do to him. your eyes, though with the same sparkle in them as he sees you throughout the day, seemed to tell a different story. a story that he also seems to recognize.

that’s what he thinks as he says the goodbyes to the guests departing, leaving only your family, his roommates, and your roommates behind as they all gather to help clean up the props and bring the stuff inside. heeseung carried the last of the two baby carry-ons for the car inside the house as it is stacked by the garage door so he could pack them up and carry them to your new shared apartment.

“i swear, gang. i don’t know shit about, fuck, this,” he says as he walks back and forth to the two groups sitting in his proximity.

“also, ‘lovebirds’? the last time i met you, i don’t think (y/n) is dating you.” ryujin called back to what his mom said. but she still understood it was the message you and he sent when you were walking around together to greet the guests.

“well, we imply to them we are together to let them know of our situation so that’s where that actually came from…” heeseung replied when he caught beomgyu who was looking at ryujin’s curious and furious combo face as he could feel the awkwardness of the moment is. since the last time you left his room, he never hangs with your roommates anymore, nor did they come to his apartment to play. sure, he has met all three of them as he became the one to give the box full of ingredients, but the situation is so awkward that after he asks for your well-being and is given the answer, he instantly speed walks to the elevator because it triggers him so much.

he really realized just how interconnected you are to everybody. he can see with the way beomgyu arrived home on the same day you left from him—whom you presumably talked to—and discover how his usually giddy face now has a small stain of sadness in it before going back to ignorance. how jimin never heard of chaeryeong again as she is working with her main crew on a routine whilst jimin is focusing on creating a choreography. all because he wants you to explain from your side.

to heeseung, he had let the things that created a plaque in his heart alone by themselves: seeing you being too selfish of your own self that you couldn’t find any priorities for even your babies and how he said it to you seemed to besmirch him more. yet, he also takes to the heart what you say on the basketball court: that he is miles ahead in front of you and how tired it is staying in the rivalry. that there is a side of him capable of competing, yet he pours it into your petty rivalry. he has already implemented the side of him you were talking about on his day-to-day after it, mostly during basketball, as he seemed to be some sort of assistant coach to coach min as he helped with training the junior players. he sure hopes that you get what he meant on why he asked for you two to talk after every factor created changed him in a way.

because he cares for you.

“the boys are staying with me,” beomgyu said as he stood up along with the others while the girls also stood up, presumably to stay the night with ryujin because she is also from here—alongside heeseung, beomgyu, and you. heeseung brought them out of the front door as they went their separate ways, closing the door as he walked deeper into the house.

he heard the sound of the sink running when he found his mom cleaning the utensils. your mom is packing up the leftovers as the sound brings him towards the kitchen.

“hey, bambi.” his mom greets him as heeseung lets out a small smile. your mom opening her arm so he could come into the conversation that is now being talked about.

“i sure do hope that you and (y/n) like the apartment we picked. it’s a two-bedroom one, but it is big enough because i know you have your exercise equipment and that gaming pc of yours that you will have to reassemble,” his mom said from behind him as he stared at the leftover food on top of the kitchen island, standing beside your mom.

“that’s more than enough, mom. thank you.”

“you gotta have to say thank you to auntie as well. she helped to pick the location so that it is pretty close to your campus and your friends.” his mom told him as he took a peek to see your mom, catching onto the similarities both of you have.

“we have the rent up for a year so we can give you freedom if you wanna move away from it after it is done.” your mom continued to talk as heeseung nodded. his head turned downwards as he tried to pick out the right words to say. instead, he literally blurted out something that came out first from his mind.

“(y/n) and i don’t get along with each other.”

he stares at the two women who turn their heads to face each other. both of them sharing a look before your mom replied, “we know.”

“well… both of you used to get in trouble with each other a lot at school that it makes us realize that you both don’t get along with each other.” his mom added, making heeseung’s face return to the shocked face as he can’t help but laughs. why would he and you hide it if they already know? oh, young minds…

“i, i, okay…” his stammers died down as he couldn’t help but bite his lips, “then why i do seem to care for her so much?”

he’s able to hear his mom chuckle as she turns the water tap off before standing on the other side of his figure, seeing how he is taller than both moms who are looking at him so expectantly.

“the line between love and hate is so thin it’s actually near existence.” his mom said first, “and don’t worry about that, the rivalry doesn’t actually start with you.”

“what?” he retorted as he watched the two women communicating through a glance shared between them.

“cleaning out that forsaken storage filing room.” his mom cuts in as she helps to collect the leftovers and grab the plates they were on so she could wash them.

“arranging them up and all. good thing during your time now you have online databases because, i swear, those teachers just blatantly putting the documents down so that they can make a student clean it up somehow as punishment.” your mom adds as his mom just laughs about it, thinking of said memory as heeseung could picture a large dim room full of shelves with stacks of papers on them—not arranged into a certain manner at all.

“but it works. after that, we became closer and we don’t see each other as rivals, but as equals.” the tap is turned off as his mom’s words go back to his ears, “and we become the best friends you now see us as.”

heeseung can’t hold back his laugh as he imagines his mom being in the same position as he is during school—cursing your mom’s ears off or even tugging the ball from each other to show who is the better player. but to know that they resolute it so fast makes him feel shame for actually allowing such rivalry to grow for more than a decade. it’s because you and him don’t see eye to eye, but sometimes you do. it’s because of the ambition you both have to also be like your parents. but growing up changed that. there are many ways to resolve such rivalry, yet he chooses the having-a-baby-together-route; the extreme challenge mode out of all.

“since you stayed at our house, (y/n) is now staying in your room for the night, heeseung.” your mom said as she gathered the leftovers, which were divided into two for each household. “also the apartment already has a bed complete with the frame and mattress and a wardrobe big enough for both of you. so you can move in if you want by tomorrow as you gather your items from your rooms at each of your apartments.”

“alright, thanks for telling me,” he said before your mom jumped with realization one last time, picking up the white envelope that he remembered yoonah brought.

“this is from the last doctor’s appointment (y/n) went to with yoonah. she knows you will ask her for your own copies.”

the word “third trimester” is spelled out on the front as heeseung pulls out the content. a few ultrasound pictures grace his vision as he gazes at the visual of his babies inside of you, the word markings at the top now assigned them as baby a and baby b grazing his touch as he sees one of them each in their own scan and both of them together by their heads. he felt someone standing behind him and a finger pointing something out in one picture of the individual baby.

“you can see baby a has a nub protruding. that’s the penis, so he’s the boy.” his mom has spoken, making him let out a small “wow” before seeing that baby b has no nub. she’s the girl.

“well, all the leftovers are split up, so i think we’re going to get going. we don’t want the husbands to smoke one more stick of cigarette.” your mom says as his mom laughs in reply.

heeseung adds after tucking the pictures in the envelop, “i also want to go to bed.”

“you absolutely should. you have to pack the baby shower gifts and bring it to your new apartment in the morning. or let it stay in your trunk until you move it in. you’ve done so well as a host,” his mom responded as he nodded, saying his last “good night” before retiring to his room.

his nightlight on the bedside table is on when he gently opens the door, he looks at the silhouette of you lying down on your side facing away from him. a duffle bag stands in front of his wardrobe which he presumes is filled with your clothes as he can identify you wearing a headset while the light of your phone shines your face. for him, it’s the correct time to freshen up as he had to come to terms that you will stay in the same bed as him—because he couldn’t bear himself to push you off his bed especially with you being in the third trimester, where he has learned from haseul is when your back pain is at its worst.

drying the droplets of water and tucking his sleeping outfit on, he walks back into the dim room to find your headset and phone on the bedside table. you have moved to sleep with your left side up; the only space for him is on the right of the bed beside his desk. though the weather outside is cold, the heater is still on as the heat exudes out to balance the temperature. he walks towards the empty bedside when he can’t help to make out the sound that is so much more noticeable in the quiet air’s white noise.

the sound of sobbing.

heeseung sits down on the bed, his back facing you while he looks one last time at his phone before putting it away when he hears you talk.

“do you know about beomgyu liking ryujin when we talked a month ago?”

his head turns to the side, taking a glimpse behind his shoulder. he can see the fragment of your expression in the darkness, making him want to make his eyes adapt to it faster.

“ever since high school, (y/n).” he acknowledged. of course, he knows. he had seen that lovey-dovey look every time he and beomgyu moved past you and ryujin in the hallway. he still has it—the subtle version of it—when his gang hangs out with yours. to be that naïve wasn’t heeseung’s forte, but he does realize just how naïve you could be.

“and is that why you commented on my crush on him? because you know that i’ll be hurting at the end?”

heeseung let out a small hum as he pushed himself off the floor and looked to the front, extending his legs as he sensed the similar, albeit lighter, pain from walking around and standing up too much as he let his legs stretch out to make him relax and let the blood flow clearly. you chuckled as he helped to pull the comforter on his childhood bed on top of him and your figure. if he could communicate with his younger self that he has you in his room and in his bed, he could see young heeseung strangling him, complaining to his older self about why he allowed that person to even be in his room.

he sees movement from your end when he lets himself lay down on the mattress. your hand brushing against your face as he turns his head towards you.

“well… you won, lee heeseung.”

your words caught his attention as he let his head be on the same level as you, shifting so he could finally see your face clearly with the nightlight still on. you have another pillow wedge between your legs, something he knows can make you feel more comfortable as he had also learned about pregnant woman’s sleeping positions. yet, your face tells him and the world that you aren’t 100% comfortable.

“i went to him, wanting to make what i felt come true because i truly, truly thought that he felt the same way. then bam! another gutter punch to me and that’s a freaking k.o,” you informed him, letting him experience the rest of the day from your view as, at that time, he was wallowing in disappointment and shame for using a wrong word to describe what you are doing with his friends.

“that fucking broke me. and i still remain in that belief even with the catharsis of watching a japanese movie about child abandonment makes me fracture and heal myself at the same time. now, with our parents renting us an apartment…” he could hear the pitch of your voice rising alongside how many words you had spoken. heeseung turned his whole body to face you, making you exhale and inhale, “i think it’s going so fast. too fast, i mean.”

your breathing makes you a bit hyperventilating as you want to turn some other way from him because you can’t bear to see his doe-like eyes staring at you with concern. you try your best to calm down, looking at the slam dunk poster on one of his walls while blinking your eyes to get rid of the glistening eyes. that’s when you sensed a hand on your cheek. heeseung’s hand reached out as you let his fingertip graze near your eyes, wiping away the single tear that came out after enough of them accumulated on the corner of your eye.

“you don’t think i’m not also scared? that my life is also going too fast?” he asked in such a warm tone. “you think that i’m not also broken? with how you and the world had shown me so much knowledge i have to expect to understand quickly, it also broke me. i can see what a positive influence you have over our friendship as a group and with you being idle for the past month, it has affected everyone. it affects beomgyu too, you know?”

you push your lips to one side, feeling your cheeks getting warm as you frown while taking in the words he had meant. that even if you confess just how much you have lost in this eternal battle with him; for the first time, he confesses he is the same.

that you are now equal to him.

“i don’t know. i retreated to being an egotistic antisocial while thinking about all of that. i’m glad you’re not like me then.” heeseung giggles as he overhears you uttering such a depressing sentence. but he continues to caress your face as he tugs himself closer to you, sensing his bent knees touching your own and the pillow that is wedged between the legs. he is the one to lean in first.

the kiss feels all too familiar now, the same as the one you had while conceiving your babies, the same as the one at the basketball court. but months have passed since those two moments, yet it only becomes richer as it goes. your hand lifts to grab his luscious locks and cradle it so you can bring him closer, tilting your head as you feel his breath right against your philtrum. yet, when you let go to take a breather, he leans in closer to connect your foreheads, lips right in front of each other’s—hovering so close that no one could able to steal each other away from the moment.

“you have me, (l/n)(y/n). we can heal together, if you want, of course. or else, i just take care of myself better an-“

you playfully roll your eyes as you meet his lips once again, feeling both of your pairs already knowing the right ways to satisfy both of your needs to sense each other. you nodded your head—hoping he felt it too—even with your lips on his. and he seemed so as he traced his hand down to your side.

“let’s heal together,” you answered, breaking the string of saliva that connected both of you as you grabbed heeseung’s hand on your body to let him touch your bump. sure, you are used to them kicking inside you now. but, heeseung never felt them when you discover them during your hermit days. to see just how the sparkles in his bambi eyes increased when you could feel one of them kicking to your uterus wall so hard, you let out a chuckle as he let you move his hand and press down to sense the movement inside you.

“i have to be angry at you because both of your babies are kickers. it triggers me to vomit just how much they kick me.”

“sorry for that!” he takes responsibility with a grin as you let his hand go, letting him have the free rein to press up against your womb where your babies are in.

“also, you’re going back with me to campus tomorrow. should i just bring you back to your apartment? the parents expect us to set up the place with the baby shower gifts.” heeseung asked as you let his hand roam to press against the bump. at the same time, it was your turn to caress his cheek, feeling how he wanted to stay in your touch when he unconsciously leaned in, but his head seemed to be too heavy to lift from the exhausting day that is today.

moving in with him is going to be hard. other than the knowledge that you learned about him which you can take advantage of, you don’t know who heeseung is as told by himself; only from his friends and parents. but with the more contact you both have with each other during this phase of both of your lives, you can tell that he is decent. you can already figure out how to rearrange the domestic chores you and him have to share. and to learn that the apartment is semi-furnished with the kitchen, bathroom, and main bedroom in place, you could actually go and live with him as fast as possible.

you’ve made up your mind.

“you know what? you don’t have to bring me back to my apartment.”

“hmm?” he questioned, lifting his eyebrows.

“i’ll help you unpack the baby shower gifts at our apartment.”

4. mended broken hearts

“thank you so much!” heeseung spoke with a sense of gladness as he took a last glimpse at the crane beside the balcony, watching it being retreated down to the truck that is part of the moving truck ensemble for his apartment. the officers there were so helpful as they didn’t mind being moved around between three different apartments since the morning. the machinery always fascinated heeseung as it’s not the same when it comes to houses. to use a crane to help move boxes easier at the same time is stunning heeseung; because he didn’t get the same luxury when he moved into the boys’ apartment. that’s when you told him that that kind of service actually exist too.

turning around inside his still blank living room, heeseung scans boxes upon boxes of his and your stuff, some are inside suitcases—which is mostly clothes—and boxes are filled with stationary and other items you both owned. the kitchen where the island counters are and a few sturdy boxes you both haven’t unpacked become your dining area as—other than the bed frame, mattress, and wardrobe both your parents have bought alongside the apartment rent—they want you two to decorate the apartment to your heart's content. that means buying pieces of furniture and assembling them yourselves.

heeseung still remembers how his dad arrived to tell him the different tools in the toolbox that he gave him as they both assembled a few pieces themselves. you stood on the side, sometimes helping with bolting something with a screwdriver in your overall get-up that he seemed to not get enough of. with your shelves done for the living area, you both focused on the babies’ room rather than your own room first. knowing how to assemble things now, you both choose the cribs, changing station, and cabinets for your both of your babies’ needs. viewing the room in the default look without more color is enough because you don’t know if the landlord allowed for any modifications of the apartment. so you both waited for customizations when you decided on a much more permanent residence after you graduated.

but, overall, the way you and him work together in creating a liveable place for yourselves for the next year is something to be proud of. how you and he bounce each other’s thoughts as you think of using the boxes of the new furniture bought to your advantage, making a makeshift cabinet you can put the unnecessary stuff you have while you allow heeseung to buy a desk for his gaming pc setup and some stools in making the kitchen island your permanent dining table. none of you are thinking about buying tvs or sofas, so a few beanbags and a futon is enough with a mini projector that can be useful for projecting the movies or shows you want to watch.

it’s admirable honestly, just with how open you are with each other after having such an emotionally charged seven months along with years upon years of bad blood to see you and heeseung actually working together and not complaining much about it. your friends even tease that maybe bodysnatchers caught both of you and you both are some alien species who don’t know the complex history of the humans they’ve abducted. yet, you both beat the allegations when you still have fits against each other in front of your friends. though in your domestic life, you try to dim it down by doing the relationship exercise haseul has taught you. twice a week, just you and heeseung sitting across from each other on your bed, holding hands, and looking at each other—building that connection.

heeseung placed the aptly label pc box on top of the desk he had assembled yesterday after he and the moving worker helped in organizing which boxes were yours and his. two beanbags are sitting by the front door as he will wait for you to discuss how to rearrange them for both of your liking. the boxes create some sort of half-wall maze he has to navigate to find your shared bedroom, the babies’ room, and the bathroom where some of your dirty laundries are piled he has to remember to bring it to the laundromat. he remembered that you have your own ironing kit so that you don’t have to pay more to iron out the creases of your clothes. he had already talked to the landlord about how to connect to the internet as he has his own router that he just needs to connect. and voila, a living place enough until the next year as you both awaited your graduation and your babies.

the sound of a muffled ringtone rings from another room as he walks towards his bedroom, seeing the tall box from the crib becoming your bedroom table as it rattles against the material. he looked at the screen to see the alarm reminding him of what you told him. picking the phone and some necessary items up, he left the apartment to go to his car in the basement, turning the engine on as he left the building.

the road is empty enough for him to arrive early to the daycare—even earlier than the guardians of the children who are finishing their day so they could pick their kids up. heeseung turns the car off as he stares at the entrance because you’ll probably be far from being done, yet something in his mind tells you to just wait inside rather than be left in the cold in the car; also to save the gas. locking the car with the remote key, he walked towards the daycare as he stared at the trees around that were shedding their leaves in the mid to end of december date it is currently in.

he hears a twinkling jingle when he steps inside the heated lobby area of the receptionist area, seeing it empty as he could observe the walls of the various playrooms that are there; all of them leading towards the outdoor playground that seemed to be closed out because of the snow falling a few days before. heeseung sees the children doing their various activities, some are playing around by drawing and some are playing with dolls and figures while an attendant takes care of each area. that’s when he saw you, sitting cross-legged in another overall outfit as he could see the large bump you’re sporting whilst sitting, reading what is supposed to be a children’s book for your audience of 4 to 6-year-olds—though you also have the experience of taking care of younger when you told him of your babysitting experience.

your eyes gaze between the writing of the book and your audience of children intrigued by what you are saying. your free hands move animately whilst describing what you are reading, making a few kids holding onto their plush or blankets so hard as they imagine what you’ve said. every time he sees you like this, he can’t help but be enamored like you. like you are a goddess of storytelling and your stories capture people’s attention in such the right way that it influences them too. why did he think about that? because he had seen it. he had seen his friends being influenced by it, and he had felt it himself.

your gaze breaks between the two planes of existence towards the window where heeseung is standing behind, making him chuckle as he sees you startled. eventually making some kids turn around to look at him. he can read the changes in your face as you realize the time, looking at the other areas, before pushing your hand as you point to where you at, mouthing,

“you want to come in?”

“right now?” he also expresses as you read his mouth and answer by nodding. he slowly tugged his shoes off and put them beside the shelf where the employee’s slippers were as he pushed the door open after turning the handle. softly—from the little pairs of eyes looking at him—he settles down beside you as some kids are looking at him with differing emotions, some with admiration, some with jealousy, some with timidness; especially because of how much of a giant his own body is compared to them. that is before one boy spoke up,

“miss (y/n), is that your king?” he says, making you puff out laughter as heeseung’s eyes widen before looking at you. with the way the other children seem to realize what the boy implies, he realizes you have told them something before about that.

“i think you’re right, woonhak oppa.” a girl said before she reached her hand out, “queen (y/n) is going to have her babies soon.”

“okay, kids. hyunseo…” you gaze at the kid who is giving you a cute eye smile. you know just how brutal it is for kids to tease you about your relationship; even kids are having a more dramatic love life than you are here. but with heeseung here, after they believe you don’t have your own king or queen, you understand just how confused they’ve become.

glancing toward him, you open your hand and whisper, “the floor is yours.”

he gazes at the kids before letting out his signature charismatic smirk, “well, you are correct, woonhak and hyunseo.” the two names mentioned now have sparkles in their eyes. “i’m queen (y/n)’s king. my name is heeseung.”

“heeddeung?” you listen to hyein trying to pronounce the name, making you chuckle.

“it’s heeseung, hyein. with a sssseu…” you tried to help her pronounce the s sound in heeseung’s name as the kids were now singing the chorus of heeseung’s name, making him giggle.

“you’re so cool, mister.” another boy spoke out as heeseung seemed to be taken aback, doing some theatrics with his expressions before bowing down and saying a “thank you”.

“then, you have been lying to us, miss (y/n)?” rami’s question makes your eyebrows crunch as you don’t know how to word out your complicated relationship in simple words.

“king heeseung has been here the whole time, actually.” you lean forward with your hand covering one side of your mouth so that heeseung can’t see, “but i hide him so that his awesomeness doesn’t compete with mine,” you said yet still with your normal volume, making heeseung snicker before he tried to remove your hand. the children nod their heads as they’ve been in on a little secret of yours.

“both miss (y/n) and mister heeseung are awesome.” you heard a girl said at the back, making you let out a thumbs up before you saw the boy beside her refute her answers; making them bicker about who was more awesome between the two of you. you exhale such a big breath as you shift your head to face him when he sees you with a look of horror—him realizing just how loud children do when bickering with each other. you stretch your arm upwards before slowly scooting yourself towards heeseung and place your head on his shoulder, making you pick up his giggle as he brought his hand behind you to stabilize your gravitational pull because of the weight.

“let’s hope that our babies are not gonna argue like that when they can talk.” heeseung mumbled, making you glance at him.

“arguing like us too, you mean?” you nudged his rib, finally knowing his opinion on the topic you voiced out months before. “i know you’ve felt tired of that like i am.”

heeseung hums before he sees a boy raising his hand toward you two, making you say a "yes" as yujin asked you an unexpected question.

“since queen (y/n) has king heeseung and they have the baby on the way…”

“oh no…” he caught your mumble.

“where does the baby come from between the two of you?”

if heeseung’s horror gaze doesn’t turn into dread, he must be sick or something because you even have a similar look showing on your face before it went away a few seconds later. that’s when you heard your own alarm from your phone ringing; making the kids let out such a chorus of disappointment because they have to go home.

“your family can definitely help you answer that, kids. let’s prepare your belongings so you can go home, okay?”

“okay!” they said in their various voices as heeseung sighed so large, avoiding such a lightning bolt because if you couldn’t answer it, then how could he do that? of course, he doesn’t want to imprint the idea of copulation on them at such a young age. and he is glad as the bell saved him.

heeseung helps to stand you up and you walk towards the lockers for the kids before glancing outside to see the familiar faces of their guardians picking them up. he even helped with a few of them before he felt a tug on his shoulders when crouching down. turning around, he sees the same girl that had pronounced his name wrong giving him a paper. he remembers the girl has a few sheets of paper and crayons when she is there with the crowd, hearing your stories.

“for you, mister heeseung…”

he sees the picture of a simple drawing of three figures: a smaller triangle with a circle and smile and hair, a larger one with the same as the little figure with a crown on her head, and beside it, a stickman with a black rectangle filled and the same circle as a head with face and another crown. the color of their triangles corresponds to the girl’s purple outfit and your own light blue denim.

the girl, you, and himself.

“thank you, uhh…”

“hyein.” she smiled.

“thank you, hyein.” he replied correctly before turning around as he saw her retreating body to you who was holding her purple backpack strap, giving him a knowing look before you focused on hyein as he stared at the drawing in his hand.

after you send the kids to their respective guardians with coats that appear so big on them as they have to traverse the cold weather, you say goodbye to yoonah and your other coworker; seeing her nodding her head at heeseung who is picking you up as she mentioned, “you almost forgot to send me the complete research so i can give it to sohee in marketing.”

“will do it right away,” you said as you tugged your puffer coat, said your goodbye to her, and entered the warmth and comfort of heeseung’s car.

after sending yoonah the file of your final research work that could help with helping in promoting the daycare, you lean back on the seat as you let heeseung’s r&b-based playlist flow through the speakers.

“what are we having for dinner?”

“what are you craving?” he asked before turning to you, who had a smile on your face. he already knows what it is.

“what’s with you and jjampong?”

“gochujang is my craving now and jjampong, being the soup food it is, helps with making my insides warm from this cold weather.” you hummed, thinking just how satisfying to consume jjampong again for the past three days. well, what gives. it is what you are craving.

“yet, you don’t want kimchi jjigae? they’re similar.”

“but jjampong has seafood, heeseung. plus jjigae is too thick and it’ll feel weird on my tongue.”

heeseung could only sigh as he smiled to himself, knowing that he had to call the chinese food delivery when you arrived at the basement of your apartment building.

a shower and the clean empty bowl of chinese foods you and him bought later, you and him are doing your nearly-regular routine of sitting and staring at each other. because it is nighttime, you let your lamp light the room in its own dim brightness as you see it being reflected in heeseung’s eyes.

when you smile, he follows. when he moves his lips a certain way, you follow as best as you can. but you can feel how both of your pulses are syncing up from you both holding your hands. thoughts are running in your mind about him, mostly the ones you have an obvious answer to. but there is one that is stuck that you just remember.

“why?”

“hmm?” he hummed, eyebrows lifted.

“why did beomgyu mention to me that he can’t be with me because of you?”

heeseung tries his best to not break eye contact even if he wants to, having the answer showing up clearly in his head because of the vulnerable stare he is in.

“did you tell him something, seung?”

but he just can’t say it, still holding it back even with the way you stare at him with such glistening eyes. your hormone seizing the wheel as you let go of your hand to wipe it before holding it again. he shakes his hand as you just let out a disappointment tight-lipped smile. but you didn’t expect heeseung to also ask,

“why didn’t you stop me that night?”

your eyebrows are lifted. that night has been a while and the last time you spoke of it is when you mentioned how you are pregnant with his child. sure, why didn’t you stop him? why didn’t you stop yourself? you are also wondering that.

and because of that, you lean forward as your lips meet heeseung’s. the kiss is so light yet loving. and even that, it’s enough to answer the question for your own self. well, it’s now his turn to think…

“why didn’t you stop me just now?” you questioned back.

near the end of the 5-minute-ritual, heeseung finally understands why he didn’t stop himself today and why didn’t he stop himself and you that night.

the end of the year is today and here you are, tucking yourself in one of your flowy maternity dresses as you pull the straps up so you can put your hands through the sleeve and tug the dress so it adjusts to your own liking. your makeup has been sitting on your face for five minutes now as heeseung is preparing himself in the bathroom. you tie the strap of the back of the dress as best as you can when you can feel yourself stretching your back, making you groan at how satisfying the feeling is. the sun has already set outside as you clasp your small black-colored chain necklace at the front before rotating it behind your nape. you glance at how cute you look as you can’t help but take your own photo in the mirror that you brought from your old room that is leaning against the wall corner.

the door of the bedroom opens and you find heeseung in a white shirt and black trousers ensemble, “you ready?”

“i guess, can you check if the ribbon of my dress is straight?”

heeseung steps closer to you as you puff out the sleeve of your dress so that the seam can be placed correctly. a slight tug comes from behind you as you glance at heeseung repairing the ribbon of your dress. after it’s done, he leaves the ribbon as he looks up at you, who is staring at him from the mirror, a sheepish smile on his face as he glances at your phone in your hand.

“you want to take a picture of the occasion?” he asked, gently tucking his head on your shoulder.

“if you want to,” you reply as you catch him nod his head. his hands that are on your back move forward and rest on your large pregnant belly. you took a few pictures of the two of you—something that past you couldn’t see yourself in—as you put it on your instagram story and typed the caption, “night out (+ 2)”.

“you want me to tag you too?” you peek at heeseung, who has moved one of his hands to be in front of your clavicle, seeing the black necklace adorning your skin next to the rolled-up sleeve of his white shirt and the veins protruding on his forearm.

“of course,” he said as you typed in heeseung’s username and pressed send.

“we haven’t updated much of our instagram and i surely know that our old friends will be shocked to see us together.”

heeseung’s muffled laugh comes from behind your head as you follow, wiggling yourself out of his hold as you pick up your bag and strap it on across your body. you glance at the living room that still has boxes left but with the beanbags and projector set for your usual game night set up—courtesy of heeseung’s nintendo switch—as you see his rgb light inside his pc crate lighting the dim living room by the balcony. walking to the fridge, you open its door and pull out a flask of your own lemon-infused carbonated water so you can pretend to at least be drunk for the new year’s night. you feel your coat being hanged on your shoulders by heeseung as you tuck the flask inside your bag; slipping on a pair of ballet-style shoes as you both walk down to the lobby.

“you sure we don’t have to use a car? don’t want to make you too tired…”

“yeah, i’m sure. i gotta have to stretch my body to exercise, hee.”

you were glad that it hasn’t snowed for the past few days as the pavement is all dry and safe for you to walk. the apartment complexes are close enough to each other and you want to use that as an advantage to move your body so that it doesn’t lock and make you too stiff. your fingers are interlocked with heeseung’s as he allows you to guide him through the shortcuts on your way to your old apartment; where the new year’s eve party is at.

“one last reminder: you’re allowed to drink tonight. you deserve to have a break time,” you said as heeseung glanced at you.

“then, who’ll be taking care of you tonight?”

“i can take care of myself, you doofus,” you replied to him, “and i’m most certainly could take care of you too.”

you glanced up at the apartment you moved from as you greeted the security guard, who is still greeting you even if you’re not the tenant here anymore. bringing yourself to the elevator as you press the familiar button, your eyes stare at the changing numbers on the way to your floor as it opens when you both arrive. you could hear the muffled loud voice that you’re hoping would be alright—"it’s okay! the neighbors are away for new year’s eve so we can party all we want" minjeong reassured you—as you approached the familiar door and put in the keypad: they still didn’t change it.

the door opens as you pick up the speaker playing in your small get-together with your people. you can hear the shout of yours or heeseung’s names as you slowly pull your shoes off by the door that has already littered with so many shoes of other people. the get-together is only for the seniors in hybe uni who are linked to your friend circle and, not going to lie, you didn’t expect for it to still be this many.

you see chaeryeong approaching you as she tugs your coat off before hugging you, already knowing that she is tipsy just by looking at her.

“you’ve come back, mama,” she teases you as you hug her too while you can pick up jeongin’s voice greeting heeseung with their usual bro hug. ryujin comes in as she brings a bucket of popcorn to be given to the crowd gathering by the tv that is playing a playlist of kpop songs. minjeong and sungchan come to hug you together as you find eunseok and chenle behind you.

“i’m so sad that you can’t drink.” sungchan said as he gently touched your bump. “she’s carrying my niece and nephew, of course, i don’t want her to drink,” minjeong cuts her boyfriend off as you playfully pull out your flask, making them widening their eyes before you say, “it’s just lemon soda water. i’ll be okay.”

you let them move away as you glance at yunjin, who is now using your room after you moved. she seemed to scream when she saw you as you instantly hugged her, “look at you, mommy.”

“thanks, jen.” you replied, “how’s it been living here?”

“fun as fuck. i don’t care that i only have 6 months of uni to live here but anything i would do to allow boys in my room-“ you playfully nudge her forehead as the laughs between the two of you combine with the sound of the people talking in the apartment. the boys greet you now as jimin and jeongin let heeseung talk with keeho, jiung, and theo.

“how have you been with heeseung?” jeongin asked genuinely as he got cut off by jimin, “hopefully his snore doesn’t turn you off much-“

“aish. YA! don’t cut me off.” jeongin nudges him away as jimin shows his own grin towards you as you ponder.

“he does snore, but i’m getting numb to it-“

“i don’t snore, (l/n)(y/n).” heeseung shouted from the other side of the room.

“you do!” you heard yourself, jeongin, jimin, and somebody—somewhere in the apartment—replying. knowing the strength in power, you and jeongin giggled as you continued to catch up.

“who’s having heeseung’s room?” you questioned, making jeongin pull someone out of the conversation as you see the familiar face that makes you giggle.

“yoon jaehyuk?”

“hey, (y/n)!” he hugs you as you pull back, confusion on your face.

“i thought you were still rooming with asahi…”

“ahh… yeah… so he decided to do an internship back in japan and he’s not coming here often unless so that’s why i room with the boys. gotta have to thank seung again for telling me the vacancy,” he said as you saw him smirk. you nod your head as you allow yourself to be taken by the flow of the conversation. conversing with the likes of hyeju, yerim, wonjin, and hyunsuk, before you can feel yourself getting tired as you walk towards the sofa, seeing beomgyu being left alone with one plastic cup in his hand and the other on the remote control—as if he is the music man of the night—as you can see him changing the playlist to play a sing-along playlist for songs of 2000s emo alt-rock.

“can i sit here?” beomgyu lifts his head from your question. you want to ruffle his hair for it being too messy, but knowing the aftermath of your last duo interaction, it feels totally different.

“of course,” he replied as you sat on the space beside him. he seemed to notice just how messy his hair was as he moved it so you could notice his flushed face from the drinking.

“oh yeah, apologies. you can’t drink-“

“nah, i can.” you pulled the flask out as beomgyu widens his eyes. “lemon in soda water. so that i can feel the festivity alongside all of you.”

beomgyu lets out a sheepish smile as he nudges his cup out, “cheers?”

“cheers.” you meet the cup with your flask as you both drink from it, feeling yourself sigh as you thank yourself for finding such a safe remedy so that people know you can still “drink”. but when you retreat your thoughts back to beomgyu, you can still see a familiar tinge of sadness on his face.

“what happened?” you decide to throw away any leftover feelings just so you know he is alright. beomgyu scoffed as he wanted to answer.

“i confess to ryujin and guess who got denied?” he points his thumb toward himself and you can’t help but let out a pout. you can think of so many reasons why she rejected him, but you know she might be doing that because of you and your unresolved feelings for him—especially since you’ve learned she is sexually attracted to him because they hooked up.

“you gotta have to be patient with that. she’s a demiromantic, so you have to coax her into that part of the relationship. make her trust you enough.” you decide to lecture him. many people have been trying to get with ryujin even when you both are in high school, but because of terrible experiences, you understand how she realized who she is now. you were with her through thick and thin at that time and you know that if beomgyu is the one asking her out first, it’s definitely a legit attraction from his side because ryujin remained romantically single for her nearly 4 years of college life.

“and i should tell her i gave the blessing. she might still be holding back because of me and my feelings towards you,” you say what you thought out loud, showing beomgyu just how effective his rejection is not only to you but also to himself.

“i’m sorry once again, (y/n). i shouldn’t have used you like that,” he said as you blinked your eyes, letting out a hum as your answer.

“but truly, i couldn’t reciprocate your feelings because-“

“because i’m your best friend’s baby mama. i remember.” you slice his sentence and put in your own. but you didn’t expect him to add to it more.

“yeah, that but also,” beomgyu lifted his head towards one point in the room as you followed, finally letting the sound of the fall out boy song in your hearing as you listened to heeseung singing along with it with a similar cup in his hand, taking a deserved break just for the night to let loose. that is when after he sang the high note that he caught your gaze and you see the corner of his lips tugging upwards.

“it’s heeseung too. he had never been this caring towards someone. even to his previous girlfriends where he only dated for like three months top.” he said as you can remember heeseung dating in high school and he had only had a girlfriend for like a month before they broke up. it’s a teasing material you and ryujin used and you can remember how fuming he became before beomgyu calmed him down. beomgyu’s word makes you realize something as it definitely is a fragment of the answer that he couldn’t answer when you asked him nights before.

“i have a guess that he has been having feelings towards you that he is willing to monetarily fund you throughout your pregnancy. it’s hard to find a guy like that unless he is honest and sincere.” beomgyu continued as you jumbled the words to find the answers hidden in them because—true to what the boy beside you said—if he is not sincere, he wouldn’t be leaving you alone to face this phase of your life. your mind suddenly thinks of a world when you say nothing to him about you being pregnant, letting it be a secret that he might only know after you give birth to the twins. but, you still won’t lie the sexual attraction is there to make them in the first place.

“thanks for answering the age-old question, beomgyu.”

“you’re welcome,” he said as he saw heeseung approaching the two of you. you can see with the way he has a little sway in his movement that he is definitely tipsy: nearly drunk. he pulls you up before sitting down on your previous space and tugging you down so you sit on his lap. his hand moves towards your bump and you can feel the babies reacting by kicking around the skin where he puts his palm.

“oh yeah, txt’s coming back with a gig. would love to see you both there cause we might spoil a new single for our next album.” beomgyu said as both you and heeseung stared at him.

“no shot. we’ll be there, right, hee?”

“uh huh,” he replied as you could see the cringe on beomgyu’s face, not used to seeing his best friend being disgustingly lovey-dovey towards his partner as he stood up from the couch.

“i’m gonna grab more snacks. hold the remote for me, won’t you?”

you picked the remote from his hand as you replied, “good luck on ryujin. be patient.”

“i will!” you heard beomgyu reply as heeseung’s nose seemed to distract you by tracing it against your cheek.

“what was that?”

“you know the love triangle i mentioned?” he hummed to your question.

“beomgyu got rejected by ryujin, so i was giving him tips to get into her heart romantically and i have to give a blessing to ryu if she wants to pursue him.”

“ah... that. well finally. beom’s brave enough to actually confess.”

“how is he like about her during high school?” you turn to examine heeseung as he sways your body on top of him.

heeseung chuckles before answering, “he is definitely whipped for her. he was so angry for being late to confess when ryujin suddenly got a boyfriend…”

“that guy was a bad boyfriend in the end.” you fill out heeseung’s story as he let out another hum.

“speaking of high school, i’m guessing i’m not the only that is having my phone setting off so much from the story i repost?” he squinted his eyes, making you let out a sheepish smirk.

“ooh, let’s actually see how they react!”

you and heeseung see the messages that are being exchanged of how you both are together and some congrats to the people who notice the baby bump. but still, the overwhelming census says “HOW ARE YOU TWO TOGETHER” exactly with the caps on. all you and he could do was laugh as you waited for the next year to start in just a few minutes.

the new year that you are ready to face with him.

you are rummaging through heeseung’s side of the wardrobe as you hopefully don’t want your expectation to be wrong. that he, AT LEAST, still has the uniform from the last season in his wardrobe.

heeseung left hours before to train some more for the championship finale tonight and as a former basketball player and his “partner”, you gotta have to show him support—"or i will actually kick you out" he jokingly said. you knew of his predicament so well, being the captain of the team but also as the versatile player who his teammates have to rely on. but you definitely can trust him for this because, of course, he wins against you when it comes to the basketball category.

you can feel the vibration of the notifications on your phone, telling you that your friends are here to pick you up at the arena as you let out the breath you were holding and tug your tank top lower to cover your bump. you have finally found last year’s decelis basketball uniform as you see the words “h.s. lee 01” so clearly on the back. it still smells so clean because he probably has not worn the top in a long time—but you have seen him wear the bottoms as some house clothes. you tug your head through the collar and put your hand through the sleeveless strap as you pull the top down, seeing the excess of his clothes covering the rest of your bump as it hangs on the end.

when you hear the sound of the doorbell ringing, you quickly walk to the door and open it, turning off the bell from the intercom before you are met with ryujin hugging you.

“you look sexy. i didn’t know you were that possessive, (y/n).”

“oh shush, the babies have to know that i’m also rooting for their daddy, of course. now, can you help me put on my shoes, please?”

after all of that is done and none of your things are left behind, you tuck your jacket as you enter charyeong’s large-ass van—probably from switching the car she brought from the previous semester back home during the break—as you are greeted by the whole gang when you enter with beomgyu driving and ryujin on the shotgun, noticing just how comfortable they are in conversing with each other now. you could see just how fast they’ve been getting it on as you don’t want to comment on it that much.

“tickets are with me.” jimin said in reply ryujin’s worrying scold when you let beomgyu drive the van towards the arena. you recognize the large arena from the many times you went by it, but also the distinct yellow neon color of hybe uni’s university color as it is the town’s signature arena. stepping out of the car, you felt the winter air hitting you as you and the rest are going inside the arena with jeongin holding some banners they made for heeseung that you don’t know shit about.

but the thing is: heeseung doesn’t know all seven of you will be here. because you didn’t tell him you don’t have work today when he thought you had.

well… that’ll be a major surprise for him.

you greeted a few of the juniors you recognize as the people who you worked with for in uni events or your junior in the business major. many of your peers’ juniors are also here as you discover some of them fangirling about beomgyu and how they are excited for his next album coming soon from the single they have released. even jeongin got recognized even if he is a small-time streamer. but he was raided by a bigger streamer during his subathon at the start of the year and has more collabs with the stray kids collective. safe to say he is set in his pursuit to be a streamer—"or a pro gamer if that doesn’t work," jeongin had said to you.

you recognized some of the cheerleaders as you have pretty good ties with them too when you helped one of them in bringing them to the hospital because of an injury during outdoor practice. though, you might not be as famous as your friends—you and minjeong actually—you are pleasant enough to recognize the satisfaction of your balanced socialization but also be at home watching movies with her for your 4 years of college.

“gosh, has it gone that fast?” you think to yourself. there’s a sense of melancholy towards it as you are here to do your last semester. to separate from the friends you made whilst being here as you open a new chapter, which you decided it will be with heeseung as you only have a month until your babies arrive.

the arena lights dim as you can hear the mc introducing the teams, both universities are cheering for each of their team until it’s decelis’ time.

“decelis number 1, playing in his last season before graduating, it’s lee heeseung.”

you actually let out a scream that shocked your friends as you watch heeseung coming out and stand in front of the opposite’s no. 1. then you pick up the recognizable names of heeseung’s teammates, mostly the juniors, sophomores, and freshmen, coming to take their place beside him. the names that you’ve heard so much is because of heeseung who was asking about on how to position his teammates in the right way with you—who will be ones in the court first and how can they do in facing the opponent. you actually had to use the basketball insight you haven’t used in a while to help him strategize, making you recognize just how well the players are in each category.

with his hands behind his back, heeseung’s gazes at the bleachers where the decelis supporters were. he was hoping he could see jeongin on the right side of the bleachers, but not going to lie, he wanted to see you in his game—answering the joking taunt he gave. the strategizing you help with is being taken seriously by coach min as he agrees to let the first people you helped him pick to be the one on the court first. the spotlight blinded him but he could see someone wearing darker clothing than the yellow and white colors of decelis is using this season.

as the light’s brightness increases, his eyes stay on that certain spot as he recognizes it is you. he can feel his heart pulsing swiftly when he recognizes the top you are wearing, scanning the number 1 on the front: his last season’s uniform. you stood right beside the aisle of the bleachers just three rows back from his own benches. he could definitely bring himself to you right after if he wants to.

after the players shake their hands and return to their benches, you finally notice how heeseung recognizes you as you catch his sight, but then he lets his eyes trail to the people beside you to see the gang fully completed when he actually does a face-palming motion. you turn to view the banners the boys are lifting, “DECELIS’ KAEDE! ALL OF US ARE HERE NOW!” the little inside joke that you and the girls also understand as none, and yes, none of the games heeseung played has all the gang there to watch. only this one: his final one.

heeseung steps out first alongside jaehyun, niki, jake, and sunghoon. niki is at the front as he waits for the referee to blow the whistle. he jumps and uses his long limbs to push the ball towards the decelis side as heeseung gets it and immediately passes it towards jaehyun. the screeching sounds from the shoes make the quick side stepping and pivoting be picked up as you listen to the sound of the supporters fighting against each other in how loud and united the support is. jake got the ball as he easily slips under the reach of the opponents and he halts and quickly shoots, an easy two-pointer at the start. but the opponents: they are not that easy to beat.

8 minutes in, the score is so tight at 17:15 to decelis. niki and sunghoon have such a good time as they successfully dunk an alley-oop together. jake is killing it with the lay-ups while heeseung has gotten one three-poin- wait no, make it two three-pointers as the score rises to 20:15. but you realize just how weak the defense is as you can actually hear coach min saying to focus on offense on one timeout still in the 1st quarter. and they still focusing on the offense, making the current score for the 1st quarter being 20:17.

heeseung rested out for the 2nd quarter as coach min let a few nimble ones play on the court such as jungwon and sunoo. lay-ups and shoots scored the most in this round but jay was the primary target of the opponent as he always got free throws. maybe because they just recognize how good jay is at scoring three-pointers but if he is inside near the ring, he could do a backboard bounce or even a dunk. you actually feel your body sweating as you understand just how worrisome the situation is. it makes you pull off your outer jacket as you can pick up gasps and surprises to your wearing heeseung’s uniform. you look at his side profile as you sit behind him, discussing with taesan on what to do about this as coach min seems to get taesan out after calling another time out. the score at the end of the 2nd quarter is 34:32.

“i swear to god, (y/n).” you heard minjeong said beside you, “why is this so high school musical 3 vibe?”

you actually let out a pout whilst holding your laughter, because what she’s saying is so true. during your winter break—because you and heeseung are “home”—you and him binge-watch the high school musical trilogy. the way, you remember, heeseung cackling as he watches how the bleachers sit down to show gabriella as troy was having this existential moment when they only have 16 minutes on the clock is ridiculously funny. but you can see him bopping his head to the basketball practice song that is “get’cha head in the game” that you might believe it’ll be his guilty pleasure practice song. “please, bet on it is so good though.” he also said as you watch the second movie, and how he is shocked to watch you remember the lyrics of “gotta go my own way” with how you karaoke the shit out of it. yes, both troy and gabriella’s parts.

to experience similar moments being imitated in life makes you rethink how it happens in the first place. like, no, you aren’t gabriella and heeseung isn’t troy and you both are not in high school when all of this is happening. but you’re thinking about what could’ve been. but, as many people have said, high school isn’t like high school musical.

the 3rd quarter started and you watch heeseung playing once again, focusing on his part as a forward but also helping in defending because of his tall body that can shield the hoop from the opponent. but, the morale seemed to have dimmed down as you see the way the opponent’s score now flips over decelis’ even by one point. but then the gap widens as both teams are doing well with defenses. however, decelis seemed to have some slip-ups. you can see the opponent’s player with number 2 on their back—seemingly the ace of the team—that is put in this round is turning the tides, focusing on quick motions, passes, and attacks. and just like that, the 3rd quarter ends with a score of 42:44. just one shot of difference.

and, unlike those 2000s rom-com movies you watched that have a couple with one of them being an athlete, you go down the bleachers as heeseung watches you when coach min is telling of the plan with the rest of the team. you grab his hand towel and help to dry the drops of sweat dripping down his head. a loving gesture that is hiding something as you lowly whisper to only him.

“target number 2. making him tired.”

heeseung nods his head—as if he is thinking of the same thing—when you let yourself lean in and give him a kiss on his forehead before letting the towel go so you can return to your seat. his eyes follow your retiring figure before turning towards his coach, who is tracing the board with a marker.

“i think we also have to target their number 2. if he plays.” heeseung said, making the others turn to him.

“we need someone with a wide reach and nimble enough to catch up to him. someone who hasn’t had a foul yet to stick right to him. he’s good with his lay-up but he has taken a few inside shots and misses, which means he might be weaker at free throws. so you need someone who doesn’t have any fouls who isn’t scared to bump into him when he starts doing lay-ups, then we can score through rebounds,” he stands beside coach min as he puts his forefinger on the board, tracing the path of one of the pins as he continued, “we do a two-time pass and maybe the forwards will be on standby as they can do a layup or dunk.”

the coach glances at him, rethinking of the new information the captain gave him as he nodded, “who doesn’t have any fouls?”

heeseung sees sunoo, riwoo, and leehan raising their hands as the coach continues, “i’ll be switching you up every four minutes, and remember what heeseung says: take the foul. as long as you don’t have five fouls, you are alright. we have to be brave enough to play dirty. i’ll be having taesan, sunghoon, and niki switching between each other for the center and power forward positions. jake, sungho, and jungwon will take over for point guard and heeseung, jay, and jaehyun for shooting guards, okay?”

“yes, sir!”

“team!” the coach pushes his hand in the center as the rest put their hands on top of his. coach min nods towards heeseung.

“decelis!”

“dece- dece- fighting.”

the supporters roar as he see the opponent doing the same thing to taunt them. heeseung has his eyes on their number 2 before looking back at you who is standing up as you give him a thumbs up.

10 more minutes.

1 time of 10 minutes and it is done. for heeseung, it will be the last time he played as a college basketball athlete as he will graduate later in the year. for him, it is now or never.

“heeseung,” coach min’s hand on his shoulders, “thanks for telling me about number 2.”

he lets out a smirk before answering, “you should thank my girlfriend for that.” and he walks to the court, seeing leehan placing himself right by number 2 with the ball at their side as taesan passes it to niki. niki dribbles forward as heeseung and sungho is at the front near the ring. leehan sticks by number 2 with taesan now by the ring, but niki notices how sungho is empty as two people are trying to defend taesan. he passes it towards sungho who immediately dribbles inside, not scared to move in as he finds the right path to the hoop and does a layup.

score!

heeseung pushes his hands out so he can high-five sungho as they retreat behind the center line. he notices the opponent’s forward passing to number 2 who is so fast and already in a way to do a layup where leehan pushes him, making him prematurely shoot and miss the backboard. a foul given by the referee.

heeseung stood near number 2 as he hoped his theory would come true. number 2 shoots his first free throw and misses. his eyes are on niki and taesan nearest the ring, telling them to pass the ball to him as they read his signals, nodding in return. number 2 shoots his second free throw and misses when taesan rebounds the ball and passes it to niki as heeseung runs backward to the outside of the half circle. the ball flies up as niki passes towards heeseung, who feels someone near him as he jumps and quickly pivots away from the opponent behind him. he sees the small sliver of empty space outside of the half circle and dribbles there before shooting his shot.

a three-point score!

with the opponent’s plan to use number 2 becoming a failure as there is a three-score gap in the scoreboard, the decelis team remains in the same strategy of guarding number 2 and fouling to fail their attempt to shoot. heeseung sees coach min tally up their scores when he calls for a timeout, changing all five of the players with their replacements in their assigned positions. heeseung sits down on the bench as he stretches his legs, wanting to look back to gaze at you before he feels a tap on his side to see jungwon smirking.

“girlfriend, huh?”

heeseung raises his eyebrows.

“you said to coach to thank my ‘girlfriend’, since when is (y/n) noona your girlfriend?"

“honestly, i don’t know.” he looks to find you before fully focusing on jungwon, “something just tells me that it’s correct to refer to her as that.”

“also, did she play basketball? how does she know that number 2 is their ace?”

“well…” heeseung smirks as he leans towards jungwon, basking in the way his team has found the right way of play as the gaps between the teams are getting longer and longer. jungwon also has an air of surprise when heeseung tells him that you were a former basketball player—a point guard like the boy he is talking to.

“but why did she stop?” jungwon genuinely asked, making him chuckle.

“let’s just say that she knew she wouldn’t beat me when it came to playing basketball.”

the opponent team did a timeout as heeseung said “good luck” to see jungwon now being called to play on the court. seeing jay, the three-point master playing on the court when there are 2.5 minutes of the match is done as if to terrorize them more. not only did they have riwoo who hadn’t had a foul yet, sunghoon and taesan are now playing as they have used their tall arms to defend and attack successfully, and jungwon who is ready to be the point guard. heeseung can feel the pride oozing out of him at how unstoppable his team is. coach min seems to contemplate whether to put him on or not, but heeseung shakes his head.

“let them be. it’s their chance.”

and it’s their chance indeed, as he sees the time counting down at rapid speed. when it is under the 30-second mark, the opponent successfully gives another score but they are too far from decelis as all they have to do is defend the hoop. one of them takes their last chance, watching the ball hitting the rim as sunghoon grabs it—10 seconds left—before passing it towards riwoo who is moving on the court, doing an ankle-breaking turn to his opponent before passing it to jay, who instantly shoots the ball as heeseung sees the perfect arch. he heard the siren calling the end of the game and the ball falling perfectly into the opponent’s basket.

they won.

all the decelis players approach jay on the court as they hug him, but heeseung is nowhere to be found.

instead, he jumped from the bench and climbed up the bleachers where he saw you cheering. your expression changes when you notice him approaching, a euphoric smile on his face as he grasps your cheeks and brings his lips to yours, making you instantly close your eyes as you move your hand to caress his sweaty-ass nape. you can hear the cheer of your friends beside you as you remember they were recording, making them record both of you as you felt heeseung’s hand drops to give a gentle grip on the bump.

“go down to the court!” you push him away from his celebration as he sees his team already gathering, waiting for him. he approaches the court with a sheepish smile as they seem to chuckle while seeing their captain so in love.

you wait as you eye heeseung’s figure that is being embraced by his teammates. minjeong showing you her point of view of the kiss as you can sense how passionate the two of you are; reminding her to send it to you as sit down and lean back, feeling a weight from you also falling down alongside heeseung’s.

the mc talks about who the player of this match is and the team was so excited to know that jay won for his numerous scores in the three-pointers—he deserves it after all. but he also had one more thing.

“at the end of every season, we also have the most valuable player of the season and for this year, for the third time in a row, mvp is decelis’s no. 1, lee heeseung!”

heeseung does a deep bow as he gets the mvp trophy and he sees some package for him that he could give to his teammates and bring the rest home to share alongside you. his vision looks at the mvp trophy, tracing the figure of a basketball player in action when he sees his reflections on its golden sheet surface. his smiles dropping as he can feel contempt.

“any words?” the mc asked as he was being offered the mic.

heeseung grabs the mic and rests it in front of his lips, finding the right things he will say as he utters, “i would like to thank my decelis family for being with me since i started my college basketball career, the hybe uni supporters for cheering us on, and to my friends who are here all complete with all 8 of us here.”

he sees how beomgyu seems to shrug as he wants to hide–cause beomgyu, especially, has only been to heeseung’s game once every season.

“to our opponents, you have done such a terrific job and i see you, number 2. you’re going to do so well.” said number 2 also bowed his head, knowing just how highly regarded heeseung is—one for the legends.

“this is also my last season with decelis as i’ll be graduating this year. thank you for having me and i’m sure the decelis will be in safe hands with them.” he turned towards his teammates as they looked at him with glimmers in their eyes and flatters in their hearts. heeseung gave one more deep bow before giving the mic to the mc as they waited for the medal ceremony.

heeseung could sense the festivity floating around in the locker room as he felt the hug of each of his teammates. he could see the enormous bags of snacks from the package beside him on the bench, as he knew he wouldn’t be eating them all anyway, giving it to the rest of the team as he packs a few of the little snacks in his duffle bag.

jake approaches him and asks, “so you really aren’t going pro?”

“hmm… nah… but i might be still seeing you if i got the right job to discuss college basketball.” heeseung answered as niki approached, “gosh, you are light years older than us, old man.”

“i’m only 4 years older than you, nishimura. you were supposed to be in high school if you didn’t have an accelerated class.” he nags as the others still basking in the euphoria of winning the medals. he, of course, wants to celebrate, but he has another thing to do in his mind that is much more important than celebrating with the guys.

“the victory party is tomorrow, right?” heeseung asks.

“yeah, it is hyung.” jaehyun answered, “all of us needed a rest after that shit.”

“i need a soak!” heeseung hears taesan complaining as all of them change from their shoes to their respective sandals.

“rest well then we can have fun tomorrow,” jay answers as he gently grabs his player of the match package and puts it in his duffle bag, making heeseung pat his shoulder. while preparing their bags as they left the arena to go home for the night, heeseung glanced at his phone to see the numerous notifications from social media of his victory and retirement speech before he landed on your simple notification.

(y/n) :P : i’m by your car.

he lets his feet bring him to where he parked his car hours prior, seeing you leaning against the front of it with the light of your phone shining on your face. you lifted your head as you heard the sound of his footsteps approaching. put the phone away, you brace for his hand holding onto yours, gripping you hard as he gives you a long, breath-taking kiss.

“congrats,” you say to him as his nose touches yours, bringing you in for another kiss as both of you are moving your lips around to adjust, earning a muffled moan from you as he felt your hands scouring around on his body.

“where’s your car key?” you whispered to him as you saw him shake his head, making you frown.

“if you genuinely want to take me tonight, you have to be strong. let me drive, heeseung,” you asked with your voice tone lower, making him flow into a dazed state as he zips open the front of his duffle bag and dropped the car key in your hold, making you push past him as you open the driver’s seat. heeseung instinctually walks to the backseat as he places the bag in the center. the sound of the car engine starts after you push the start button. heeseung closes the door and gets in the passenger door as you still adjust your seat. you knew you wouldn’t see your legs, but driving is a muscle memory thing so you hoped it would kick in you.

from your perspective—and because you have a smaller car—his car is massive. but as you adjust all the mirrors to your liking and with the new sensors on the side mirror to help detect blind spots, heeseung’s car is definitely more technologically advanced than yours.

moving the gear to drive, the car stumbles forward as it pulls out of the arena’s lot with headlights switched all the way on. heeseung has his seat leaning back, cannot wait on what he’ll get and be getting back at your home as he places his hand on your thigh.

why is the elevator ride so long?!

you stare at the rising number with both of your hands behind you, not even minding slipping on the coat that you were wearing because you can feel how hot heeseung’s touches are the whole time you’re driving back to your apartment.

speaking of heeseung, you took a peek from the corner of your eyes to see him staring at you, not breaking away as he trails behind you after parking the car in the basement and going to the elevator. both of you in your decelis’s lee heeseung basketball paraphernalia when you can feel the tension steadily building. because you know from the hooded eyes he gave you in that arena that he wants to celebrate his last victory with you.

the sound of the medal hanging on his chest creating thuds that harmonically tie with both of your footsteps. none of you said anything as heeseung lets you lead the way to your shared apartment. you can still imagine the distinct image of when you turn your head towards heeseung to see him biting his lip lower lip under the shining red traffic light, teasing you throughout the drive as he trails his hand up and down your thigh, closer and then farther to your core.

you can sense him leaning his figure on the wall beside the door, enclosing you with his body as you type in the keypad to unlock the door. the ringing chime tells both of you that the door is unlocked as you push open, already swiftly pulling your shoes off because you just know that it might slow you down with whatever you’ll be doing if you take your time. tugging your bag off of you as you walk and drop it with your coat on the nearest beanbag, the eerie silence makes you alert on every step you take.

“heeseung-“

you felt your body being turned around as heeseung pushed you to the wall. your breath being taken away by the small thud as he pushes his lips to yours, finally showing that passion he is holding back when he gives you his victory kiss. his hold on your cheek is gentle, but the way his lips mesh and move against yours is the opposite. you can feel the desperation and pent-up emotions flowing out, maybe because that’s one reason you never heard of him hooking up with someone as you can sense the frustrating grit of not getting off showing in his performance during his ball game.

your hands reach for his back as you playfully caress and tug the hair falling on his nape, making him gasp and let out such a hot low-toned chuckle before slipping his tongue into your gaping lips, exploring your mouth and trying your best to hold you close. to hold you and both of your babies close to him. he leans back and lets his forehead and nose caress against yours. both of your eyes close as you bask in his touch.

“you look so fucking good in my uniform.” he pecks your lips before giving kisses all over your face.

“your uniform is so comfortable to wear,” you reply as he groans, trailing his hand down your sides before resting by your waist with the bump, gripping it hard.

“all of my babies look so beautiful in wearing what’s mine.”

his words making you giggle as you grip his chin to make your lips connect, biting lightly on his pouting lip as you can sense his hands now underneath your top, feeling his touches on the skin that is two layers deep of tank top and bra you are wearing.

“sorry, kids. but i just have to thank your mom for sticking right by me,” he says a bit loudly as he caresses the bump before his hands move to your hips and thighs, lifting it up and making you gasp as you can feel how you are slightly lifted off of the floor.

“heeseung, aren’t we too heavy-“

instead, he lifts you higher against the wall and you can feel your top being dragged by it. cutting your words off as he connects his lips and grinds his crotch against yours.

“i can definitely lift heavier than you, woman. believe me and wrap yourself around me so i can ravage you.”

“shut the fuck up, you aren’t a literature student.” you giggle at his uncalled pretty words when you wrap your legs and arms around him, taking all three of you with him to your shared bedroom that is only being lit up by the orange-tinged lamp—making the entire atmosphere a bit more romantic. you try to move your weight to help him balance before he drops you down in front of your shared bed.

linking his lips with yours once again, his touches becoming more vulgar as he is not embarrassed to touch your breasts, making you gasp as you caress the exposed side of his uniform to feel the ridges of his ribs. his hands are raised as you tug his uniform off of him. the last time you looked at him this way was that night you two fucked and he look a bit more ripped than 8 months before—his muscles seemingly thicker from the workout he had to endure to maintain his body. his biceps and triceps are more pronounced from dribbling and shooting the ball to the basket as you can feel the cool traces of his skin because of his sweaty sheen meeting the cold weather. your lips trail from his to underneath his jaw, giving little suck as you trace them to his pronounced clavicle, remembering his sensitive nipples from the last time as you can hear his small moans from the combination of light pinching and sucking that blooms small but many amounts of your marks on him.

you turn both of your figures as you sit on the bed whilst heeseung peers down; him shaking his head at realizing what you're doing as you trace your fingertips on his abdomen.

“it’s your fucking victory, heeseung. you deserve it,” you mumbled as you give a kiss to his growing cock before tugging the band of his underwear down, seeing it bounce up in its semi-erect glory. you didn’t hesitate to spit on your palm and wrap your hand around it, stimulating his tip as he could feel the shivering spreading in his body.

“fuck-“ he spoke near a whisper as he leans his head back, showing the expanse of his neck from your position because you also can’t wait to ravage it with your marks. one hand stroking him and the other stimulating his own balls, he hisses as he felt your warm mouth taking him in, making him looking down to see you with your eyes close as you wet him, opening your eyes as you move your head back to examine his cock glistening with your saliva. his hand caressing softly of your hair as you continue to take him.

“ah hah…” heeseung moans as he has one hand on your head and another by your cheek, feeling it hallowing as you take him. the way you gag before pulling back as you cough makes him lean down to kiss your spit-covered lips before you push him away as you take his dick in your mouth once again. you can sense him getting longer and thicker as the blood flows into his dick when you push him deeper into your cavern once again, feeling the tip of your nose brushing his pelvis as you heard his groan getting louder, making you moan as it also stimulates him more.

the hand that was pushing your head suddenly pulled you away as heeseung went down on his knees to connect your lips, making him taste his own pre-cum that was ever-flowing as he felt the sliver of skin when both of your tank tops rested just above your belly. he lifts both his uniform and your tank top underneath off of your body as he is met with you in your black maternity bra and your bump where you have been incubating his kids for the last 8 months.

“ah…” you moan out as heeseung’s hand caress your sensitive nipple while he focuses on kissing your bump and the stretch marks it produces. he remembers clearly how you are always wearing the skin lotion that could help with your stretch mark after showering before going on your bed, making him stare at you who is in front of the mirror as he sees you gently spread the remedy on your skin. he also remembers how your face sometimes falls as you see the thick stretch marks, making him also pull out a little frown.

“you’re so fucking beautiful.” you heard his muffled words against where your stretch marks at as you reached behind you to unclasp your bra, letting your girls breathe as you try to rub them as you sensed how tender they are. dr. park said that it’s because you are on your way of producing milk and it is very normal to feel it so tender and full.

putting your hands behind you to support you upright while you push your upper body towards the bed, heeseung’s hand playfully snaps your underwear band before tugging it down along with your socks, taking in your naked self that he couldn’t help but think even in such situations as when he is practicing and even during the doctor's appointment as he sees you getting your ultrasound done.

“lay down for me,” you caught his voice as you turned your body and stretched to get a pillow so you could support your head. his touches and kisses litter your thighs as you feel his fan of breath on your moist core that dripping down your essence. you felt one of his fingers picking the dropping pre-cum before pushing into your opening.

you can’t see him from this angle—the baby bump not allowing you—as you can only feel and listen to what he is doing to you. the finger pushes past the opening and you can hear him let out an exhale from the way your walls engulf him.

“how are you still so fucking tight?” heeseung seemed to also wonder as he felt his finger being covered in your natural lubricant, hearing you say from the bed.

“it feels so wrong to fuck people when i’m pregnant with your child.”

“me as well.” your eyes widen as you hear his nonchalant confession before you can feel him pushing in and out his sole finger from your core. that is when you feel the wet muscle of his tongue flicking your clit before giving the nub its own suck. your legs curl as you put your legs on top of the mattress, making him groan as he pulls your hips so your legs don’t have anything to support on before he lets you wrap them around his shoulders.

your bump doesn’t allow you to tug on his hair as he deliciously devours you, making you grab onto your sheets until your knuckles turn white while one of the hands stimulates your lips to make it seem like he is kissing you. another moan is out of you as heeseung adds another finger and interchanges his fingers and tongue into your hole. you can feel yourself getting tight as the band of your stomach is so close to being snapped.

“i’m going to fucking cum-“ you said in such a raspy voice as heeseung doesn’t stop, teasingly adding a third finger as you feel the band snap and you cumming on three of his fingers, making it much easier for him to penetrate you when you heard him hum as he licks the spillage from your cum. the sound of his heels planting on the floor makes your breath hitch as he rises from the floor, wiping the corner of his mouth as you can’t help but giggle and roll your eyes.

“take me like this.” you moved the pillow from your head to your hips as heeseung stood in between your legs that he was holding in both of his hands before leaning it against his torso. you can finally feel the head of his cock as it nudges your entrance, making you roll your eyes back as he kisses the calves of your outstretched leg against his body. when you sense his head pushing to stretch your lower lips, you let out a huge exhale and feel your arousal slowly being satisfied. your natural lubricant easily takes him in as he moves his body forward. both of your jaws slack as you sense him inside you, making you feel full once again after a long time.

“you’re so tight, mama,” he spoke in such a pet name that you could feel your warm face getting warmer with the rush of blood. heeseung’s gentle touches contrast with the rough ones he gave during your one-night-stand as he is reminded of the babies now existing between the two of you. you nodded your head as you reached for his hand that was gripping your waist, making him move in and out of you at a faster pace.

“fuck, you make me full, daddy.” you see how heeseung grins as he continues to thrust into you. he has his lips move from fully open to biting as he looks at your face reacting to each movement, wanting to kiss your delectable lips but knowing that he can’t because he doesn’t want to press up his kids. so, he lets his body move that thought to how he thrust in you and feeling how you reacted to that. your legs curling from the sensation as he moves his hand to your boob, groping it as you grab the hand to lock it with yours. you let out similar doe-like eyes like what he usually shows as you let out a raspy sound every time he plunges deep inside.

with your mind slowly floating from your head, you can feel the dizziness associated with laying down on your back for too long as you let your fingers out from his and wrap them around his wrist, hard.

the tight grip alerts heeseung as he sees you trying to push yourself up to sit down. pulling himself out as you felt the air in your gaping hole from his thick dick, you sit on the bed and grab his cheeks to bring his lips to yours. finally tasting him once again as you both tease the heck out of each other when both of you bite your respective bottom lips to make you both counter with something else. heeseung doesn’t hesitate to let his teeth bite your bottom lips before you let your tongue slip in and push into his mouth so you can battle each other.

letting him go and with a push so he steps away, you turn your body around and fold your body as you rested both of your feet on the ground and your upper body on the bed. your belly hanging from the suspension as you present yourself to heeseung who is groaning behind you.

“look at you, nasty girl who is slutting yourself for me,” he words out as you feel his slap on your ass, making you wiggle your hips.

“i’m your fucking slut, hee,” you said with your head turning towards him, a smile growing on your face as you felt the familiar sensation of his head plunging through your lower lips. you lean your head down on the pillow as he drives into you, making you let out a muffled moan as heeseung traces his hand down your spine.

“my slut who allows me to breed her.” you moan out as you listen to how his breeding kink is coming back. your belly jiggles along with each thrust as you lay your head on the pillow, turning your head to the side to watch your hand forming a fist before a hand reaches down to open the curled up fingers and place it down flat on the mattress: his hand enveloping yours as he curls his fingers into you. you can feel breathing against your ear as heeseung bites into your shoulder, marking you down as his while his thrust doesn’t stop.

“i’ll gladly breed you again and again.”

“fuck, daddy.”

“yeah, you like what daddy tell you, mama?”

you hummed as heeseung had his other hand pressing down your upper back so you could feel his tip kissing your cervix that is protecting your babies. yet, it still stimulates you so much that heeseung sees tears falling down the corner of your eyes, licking it up with his tongue.

“don’t hold back, shit, breed me, hee.”

heeseung—excited—grasps underneath both of your elbows as he pulls your limp body back, making you arch towards him as he makes his pace faster. your head leans back as you can’t even close your jaw, silent screaming coming out of you as he takes you in its entirety. you feel his lips kissing your head before you limp forward to let your head hang as he rests his own just behind your nape.

“you’re taking me so fucking well, (y/n). body just for me.”

he spoke as you felt your walls clamping up against him when his kisses contrasted with his thrust. heeseung feels your body trembling as he reaches his hand around to rub your clit, making you squirm once again as you mumbled, “c-cum…”

“cum for me, baby.” that is followed by your exasperated, pornographic moan as you can see white flashes while you cum, feeling heeseung’s thrust slowing down as he wraps his hand across your body now. with his own moans entering your ear, you can feel his cum staining your walls. both of you have to slow down to breathe well when you felt him kiss your shoulder blades before he pulls out, making a few of both of your cum fall down to the floor and trail down your thighs.

yet, your libido is still ongoing as you tug on his hand that is wrapped around your body. you turned around between his arms, thighs closing in on each other as you kissed his swollen lips so none of your essences would fall out again—because of your kink.

“sit down against the headboard for me,” you whisper against his lips before lazily kissing him once again as you let go to see him climbing on top of your shared bed and resting right in the middle of it. sheets already crumpled as he rearranged the pillows for his head and back on the headboard. his legs are stretched out in front of him and his arms resting behind his head. his face tells you to take him like he takes you, especially with his cock that is getting erect once again after seeing your hungry eyes.

you slowly crawl up to him on your hands and knees and widen your legs to slot him in between you. in the kneeling position, you crawl to his lap as his hands shoot to grab your waist, helping you as you grip his thick cock in your hand and bringing him to your entrance, slowly sinking down as your hands move to grip his upper arms. with such a fast pace coming from the last round exhausting both of you, you wanted to make this one slow—reminiscent of the unspoken tiebreaker between you two when you can feel a different feeling you have of him from the familiar ones you always get when you argue the hell out of each other. that feeling has bloomed throughout this journey as labels changed in so many turns and iterations. and here you are, sitting with heeseung inside of you, just taking in your feelings for each other as your zen mindset comes back to the ones you usually have during your daily ritual.

your hands wrapped around his back as you slowly move against him, not breaking eye contact even with how good the feeling of him rearranging your walls again, feeling every ridge of him against you. this position finally allows him to caress your body more, allowing his hand to softly soothe your bump as he can’t imagine how shocking this might have been for the babies. it allows him to hold on to your growing breasts that are producing milk for them, making you hiss as you continue to let him message them so that they’re not too stiff. it allows him to lean forward and kiss your own swollen lips with his, seeing the excess of your eyeshadows being smeared by your tears from how hard and delicious he had fucked you. it allows him to make hickeys on you, indent from bite marks alongside the skin turning dark littering the neck and collarbone, showing people you are his. it also allows you to do the same, creating abstract art between the two planes of his skin from the promise you made to yourself.

when he leans back to rest his upper body against the headboard, you ask him the dreaded question—not even slowing down your pace as you still continue to move.

“what are we?”

heeseung stops you from moving, knowing the severity of the question as he seems to read your face. you could see his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed down, all of your senses seemed to become so hypersensitive that even you could feel the small pinprick of pain in your skin cells at the way heeseung broke it to create one hickey on your neck. you see his eyes darting to different points of your face, also trying to read what you’re thinking.

“from the rivals to future parents to fake dating, i, i can’t pinpoint one.” you tried to voice out your answer, making heeseung seem much more comfortable in doing his bid.

“i refer to you as my girlfriend multiple times since it’s easier for naïve people to understand. but, i agree with you 100% that defining us.” he points between the two of you, “it’s hard.”

“hmm…” you nodded your head before lolling to the side, moving your hips so slowly just so that you also don’t make limbs too numb. “well, do you actually like me?”

“like you?”

“romantically, do you?” you let out a pout that makes him poke his finger to your cheek before you return it by scowling. it takes long for him to reply. a few breaths are taken and leave as you also allow yourself to match his rhythm as you slowly chase both of your highs. the way your facial changes expresses what emotions you are feeling: wonder from the way your eyes seemed to sparkle, fear as he sees that light dimming down, anger at how long he replied as he sees you wanting to poke tongue to your cheek. it switches even in such a minuscule way. but heeseung got to be reminded as to why he didn’t stop you or himself from following on this path.

“i do like you like that. romantically.”

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, feeling the weight transfer to yours as you think of the past months, the ever-changing label, and the ever-changing feelings you have for him.

“me too. i do like you like that too.” you start to move faster as your grip on his torso tightens, “but calling us boyfriend and girlfriend will be too inappropriate cause we don’t have dates.”

“what about when it’s just the two of us?”

“the appointments, really heeseung?” you can see his smile widening, “you call those dates?”

“i can call that a date because we usually eat after each appointment,” he answers with the right vigor as you change the way you see. that, hey, maybe they are dates.

that’s when you laugh right in front of him, “we’re really doing it backward. the have-a-baby to can-i-have-this-date route.”

heeseung also laughs at your new phrasing, trying to define what your relationship is as he helps move your hips faster with his hold. yet, not wanting to make you two seem so haggard to discuss something so vulnerable.

“maybe companionship is the right word,” he said, lifting his hand to brush away the hair that is sticking to your skin. he sees you gnawing your lips as you nod, bringing him to your embrace as you move faster, feeling his shortness of breath by your skin as you nip on his earlobe.

“companionship is a great phrase,” you sense heeseung’s head nodding beside your own head. yet, you continue, “but i’m also ready to fall in love with you.”

heeseung pulls your chest off of his as he looks into your eyes, your lips parted as you breathe out, not wanting to stop because you can feel just how tight your walls are sticking onto him. he leans his head close to you, rubbing his forehead on yours as he brushing his nose tip with yours, one of his hands moving from your hip to your belly that is carrying his children. your children.

our children, heeseung corrects himself.

“i’m also ready. if you let me,” he replied, making you nod your head as you leaned forward to connect your lips to his. he leaned back and brought you along so he could sit against the headboard, helping to hold your hips as he helped his hips move to chase down both of your climaxes. you stare at each other in proximity, a smile growing on your face as you kiss his temple, enveloping him in your arms.

“i’m close-“ your breath hitches as he doesn’t stop. you helped by rubbing your fingers to your clit as your mouth widen, a silent moan coming out of you as you kiss him while you heard his muffled groan, feeling your walls a tad bit relaxed as he rides your climax and chasing his own. his grip on you is so tight that you can sense the weight of gravity that seems to bring you and him down, feeling his release within your walls as it drips onto his lap. you lap his lips with your tongue like before when heeseung then connect it with his, pouring out the remaining unspoken emotion you felt for each other before you both retreated, feeling his breath combining with yours.

“whose gonna shower first?” he asked.

“of course you. you are so grimy it’s actually disgustin-“

he pushes you so you fall from his lap and land on the empty space on the bed, making it easier for you to push him out as he had tired you, body and soul. as you see his butt naked self walking towards the bathroom outside of your room, you still think that you can’t believe he calls you his and how he allows you to call him yours.

5. that's our lamp and that's where you love us

you know that you’ll not be getting the whole 40 weeks of pregnancy experience when you have twins. average twins are born in week 37 to 38. well… you are now in week 36 and you just want the babies to come out!

the braxton hicks contraction is driving you crazy as you can see heeseung panicking beside you whenever it comes. with the postponement of your internship—allowed by the uni—you just want the babies to come as fast as possible that you might want to come to the hospital so that dr. park can break your water. heeseung sits beside you, letting out his hee hee hoos as you follow along with the exercise before you change your sitting position to feel it disappear.

“another fucking braxton hicks, goddamnit.”

heeseung can only shake his head, seeing his companion wanting to let it end and actually getting crankier every day when it is getting closer to the due date. he has been helping with the living situation, especially when it comes to cooking based on the recipes ryujin gave to him when you just seemed to not be able to cook anymore because of the sudden contractions. but your appetite is getting lower because you don’t have the thought of it with the pain you are in. he has tried contacting the doula for questions but her answer is to try to calm you down and make you relax. or to distract your crankiness towards something else. for him, his answer is mario kart 8.

“can it get any faster?” you are practically screaming as you sit on the beanbag with heeseung sitting on his own. the projector between you projecting his pc’s desktop of mario kart 8 as you race through maple treeway track.

“babe, we’re already in 200cc. you’ll get a bullet bill and it’s going to be okay.”

“i fucking know,” you answered, but he didn’t reply as hard because he knows that it was just your hormone reaction. you can watch your wiggler racing through the position as the number rises. the box on the corner shows that you’ve gotten a star and you don’t hesitate to use it; making the likes of donkey kong, mario, and baby bowser bounce out of the way as you are approaching heeseung’s yoshi who is in 1st place. going up the half-pipe of the maple treeway track is when you get the three red shells by being in 3rd place, knocking princess peach out of 2nd place as this is the final and tiebreaker course for both of you.

you almost want to press to throw your red shell when you see a blue shell flying, aiming towards heeseung.

“blue shell!”

“oh fuck-“ heeseung can’t avoid it as the blue shell hits him while he is gliding to the last section of the course, making you fly past him as you have the red shell prepare to throw backward. you quickly drive above the tree roots and throw your red shell behind you, hitting heeseung one last time before crossing the finish line.

“YES!”

you cheer from your beanbag as you lean back, feeling it soften your impact as you close your eyes and rub your face with your hands. you can hear heeseung’s voice when he tells you “good game”.

“gg to you as well, babe,” you replied, feeling yourself much more relaxed than ever as you felt the fake contraction gone.

but that’s also when you feel your crotch is wet.

as you see the projector showing you the trophy of your win, you don’t hesitate to plunge your fingers in between your thighs inside your pants as you can feel the overwhelming wetness coming out of you.

“heeseung?!”

“what? you’ve won-“

his eyes gaze at your glistening fingers to your shocked yet measured face.

“it’s time.”

“oh fuck, it’s time- okay.”

he rapidly moves to the babies’ room where he already has the bags packed for your hospital trip as you turn off his nintendo switch. he helped you wear one of his sweatpants to cover the stain as he brought you out of your apartment and brought you to the elevator. you can feel one contraction coming as you hold on to the elevator wall, eyes on your phone as you count the seconds in your head.

“40 seconds…” you mumbled as you arrived in the basement, “remember it’s 40 seconds…”

“yeah yeah. stay here, i’ll bring the car to you.” heeseung ran towards the car as you stood there, eyeing the phone as you called dr. park to tell her you were on your way to the hospital. you can hear the ringing of the phone by your ear before the call is picked up.

“hi, (y/n). i was just going to go back home-“

“my water broke, and, and, we’re on our way to the hospital.”

“oh my- okay, we’re having the room prepared for you.”

“thank you.” you hang up the call as you then move to call haseul when you hear the wheel skid in front of you as heeseung helps you in the car before scurrying away to the hospital.

“how’s your contraction?” you hear her ask.

“it’s in 40 seconds and- ugh…” you can feel another contraction coming as heeseung takes one glance at you before going to the road. you see the minute from the clock on the center dashboard of the car console as you mentioned to haseul, “10 minutes.”

“you’re in early labor. i’ll meet you at the hospital, okay?”

“great, thank you.”

heeseung had his eyes on the road as he overheard you calling your parents and his parents, not stopping until he had parked in front of the ICU to call one of the staff.

“my girlfriend’s in labor.” he voices out in panic, seeing a few staff gathering around you as heeseung leaves you alone to park the car.

you were brought into the vicinity by a wheelchair as you mentioned your name to the receptionist. recognizing your name, one staff told you that your hospital room is currently in preparation as two nurses come to take care of you. the nurse brings you to the room as you are greeted with dr. park who is asking you for your contraction, which you have counted to make you sane as you can feel the expanding pain across your body now.

“last time, it was 40 seconds and 10 minutes. the last contraction is 35 seconds-“

“okay, okay. let me check your dilation okay? your bathtub is being prepared as well as the midwives,” the doctor said, making you nod your head as she helped undress you and put you in the hospital gown.

now you understand why people want a fast and safe labor. it fucking hurts as hell, like a tiger munching away through your hip joints kind of hurt—not that you have experienced it yourself, but any kind of hyperbolic phrase you could think of cannot compare to this amount of pain. you had no other choice but to exaggerate because this is the most pain you have ever felt in your life.

“3 cm in dilation…” dr. park mentioned as you see one nurse helping you with checking your pulse when you feel yourself getting another contraction, sensing your womb’s clenches so hard against itself.

“8 minutes…” you voiced after looking at your phone. the doctor nodded her head as she went out of the room to check on the other things for your active labor. the nurses helping in prepare the room as you asked one of them, “when is it the right time to move to the tub?”

“usually when you’re in active labor, it’s 10 cm in dilation. but we can put you in the tub by 7 cm,” she answered rapidly, preparing the machines near you for later as you are prepared to go to your waterbirth room soon. you hear the swift footsteps approaching your room from outside as you see haseul alongside heeseung there. he instantly drops the bags to the side as he grabs your face, giving you a few kisses to pacify you as you can actually see tears also running down his face.

“what’s the dilation?” haseul questioned, furrowed eyebrows showing as she sees your body curling up from the pain.

“3 cm,” you replied, holding onto heeseung as you could feel another contraction incoming.

“we have to make her dilate faster cause she’ll be going into active labor in minutes now. can you dance with her, heeseung? just slowly.”

“i’ll try,” he said as he held you by your waist, swaying you from side to side as you heard him hum a song.

ever since your revelations towards each other, most of your time has been spent with him. sometimes you even dance around in your living room just because you want to, letting him know the mitski songs you have inherited in your mind and heart. how you also cathartically sing to them as heeseung has to take in the lyrics, because of how complex it is with its layers of analogies and metaphors. though slower, you let him guide you into a state of lull as your face shows him just how in agony you are to him.

heeseung feels guilty as fuck seeing you like this, knowing that you are the only one who holds onto the pain to deliver his children. he had wished there is some technology out that could let him share the pain to help alleviate yours because seeing you only mumble out words as haseul help you sip on your sippy cup while trying to make you ready is hard to look at. heeseung holds you so close, feeling your body quivering as you let out another moan from another contraction. with haseul beside you, she helps in counting down the contraction while the nurse you asked for information is standing by as they will help in checking your dilation. he could help distract you by nipping your earlobe as you gaze at him, making him caress your face so softly when he can hear the vibrating phone coming from his and yours as your family and friends are on their way to the hospital.

“6 cm.” the nurse checked your dilation as haseul added, “50 to 60 seconds every 4 minutes. do you wanna go to the tub, (y/n)?”

“yes, please.” you take a sharp intake as the nurse helps to bring you to the waterbirth labor room. haseul walks beside you as she elaborates on a few more important things because she can’t be with you during it as it is only family, talking to both you and heeseung.

“since you’re going to have twins, they’re will be a 3 to 30-minute interval between your labor. i’m hoping that after baby 1 is born, you can push out baby 2 immediately if the midwife gives you the ready sign to know if the baby is positioned correctly. we will be more concerned with baby 2 and we can give you an option to do partial waterbirth so you can birth no. 2 outside the tub. luckily, the midwives here have numerous water birth experiences and have the skill to give birth to multiples with water birth. will that be okay for you?”

“most definitely okay,” heeseung replied for you as the nurse sped to the room first when he stopped haseul, “how can i help?”

“when it comes to water birth, the midwives usually allow the partner to step inside the tub to help them. an advantage for the partner that normal or caesarian birth doesn’t give. are you okay with being in the tub with her?”

“i’m okay with that.” heeseung doesn’t hesitate to reply, making haseul taps his shoulder as she tells him to call him when you’ve given birth before she is leaving. heeseung watches the woman who has helped both of you so much walking away before bringing himself to you once again.

inside the labor room, he could see the hecticness of the midwives and nurses as they helped to pull your gown off your body, leaving you in your bra as he saw dr. park giving you an injection in your lower back before turning towards him.

“this is anesthesia to help her feel less pain. are you here to be with her?”

he nodded before saying his complete answer, “please let me in the tub with her…”

“of course, you can. we can help bring you water and such for her.” dr. park said as the nurses seemed to pick up what she was saying—already on their way to prepare for the stuff that can help him and you. heeseung walks to where you are, seeing one midwife checking your dilation before nodding her head to the doctor. he takes off his top and lets his shorts on as you feel his touch from behind you, seeing him stepping inside as well after you.

“slowly…” he whispered to your ear as you tilt your head to him, seeing him guiding you to kneel into the bathtub.

“hi…”

“hey,” he replied to your weak greeting.

“i don’t think you want to join me in the tub. it could get bloody and it’ll be pretty disgusting.” you slur out your words as heeseung sees the midwives preparing on the other side of the tub. both of you kneel as you feel the water rising to your waist before he is the one laying down first, tapping his thighs so you can sit down on them.

“i’ve seen you bloody before when you got a nosebleed after i threw the basketball too hard at you and we have showered together before. this definitely will be the highlight of our relationship,” heeseung jokingly said before tugging you into his embrace, feeling your body shaking as another contraction is currently ongoing.

“remember your hee hee hoos, babe,” he whispered to your ear as you nodded, the midwives checking in on you as you are now in active labor.

“i will signal you to push when it is time, miss (l/n). do your breathing exercise,” the midwife says beside you as you see dr. park in her surgeon outfit, ready to help you as best as she can. your tired eyes are now wide open as you feel a surge of force within you from hearing what she said, enough force that turns into strength as you have one mission blaring in your mind.

to deliver your babies as safe as possible.

“okay, when you feel your muscles contracting, count down and push okay?” you nodded your head as you felt heeseung kissing your temple to soothe you. his eyes full of admiration as he can see your face being alive once again. you grunt as you feel the contraction—starting your breathing exercise.

“this one is a push. 1, 2, push.”

you let out a scream as you can feel the movement from underneath you, trying your best to push with your might as you can feel the weird sensation of pushing out like you were called by nature. but this, now this actually hurts.

“good job, two more pushes. ready when you are,” the midwife continues as two of them inspect from the side. heeseung has his lips near your ear. you can hear him whisper.

“they’re almost here, you can do it, (y/n).” his voice sounded so soft, rather low timbre as he helped you relax.

you’ve gone through the next two pushes, and are now on a pause as you awaited your next contraction before pushing again and again. right now, you feel both the most powerful and most helpless you have ever been. everything depends on you and the way your body’s primal instinct kicks in as you just want baby no. 1 to get out. blood has mixed with water as your mucous plug broke making you feel helpless once again because you are the only one being able to deliver the birth. all the others—including the midwives, dr. park, and heeseung—are there to support you in your painful moment. that’s when you feel it, the dreaded ring of fire that haseul has told you about.

you let out such a primal scream that you can feel your voice box getting sore as the ring of fire burns with your skin stretching from it, hearing the midwives and doctor talking about the crowning as heeseung focused on giving you water to drink from behind you. he could only be there as a hand to hold from you, feeling your nails breaking through his skin as he also bleeds. but he has all his focus on you.

the burning hurts so bad but when you feel the big part coming out from one final push, the rest feels like a slug as you see one of the midwives have their gloved hands inside the crimson water. your head leans back against heeseung’s shoulder as he sees the other midwife bringing the surgical scissor when he sees a blurry small silhouette of a grayish being. the other midwife immediately clamps the cord that is hanging out of your canal as you are reminded of how twins share a placenta.

heeseung’s eyes seemed too focused on the small figure being carried away when he felt your trembling body slow as the other midwife pressed her hands up against your belly, feeling if baby 2 was in the right position or not. the midwife gave him a nod as he looked down to see you nearly passed out; your eyes were blurry as you looked at the shining light from above you before it was covered by his face.

“you’re doing so well, baby. one more left,” he said as he eased to pivot your head, letting his lips placed against you as you could feel yourself waking up. that and the loud sound of a baby crying as you and heeseung look towards the source. seeing the crowd opens up as the midwife and dr. park helps examine the baby to see if they’re healthy. he can hear your exasperated laugh as you let out such a wide smile that makes his heart calm, making him rub your bump carefully as he also stares at the location of where his baby is.

the midwife responsible for them approaches you with a bundle in a towel, making your weak body sit up as you carefully position your hands so that she can put the baby into your hold. when you look at them, you can’t control your tears as the midwife helps to push the towel to let your skin touch the baby’s.

“it’s the boy…” the midwife says as the other ones are talking with the doctor about your second twin’s condition. his eyes are open and you can’t help but coo when you look at him, hearing his cry calming down when he senses your skin. the color coming to his skin as you heard heeseung gasp from behind you while you felt your heart beating faster as you watched his little face. heeseung’s head rested on your shoulder as both of you were speechless.

his head nudges to yours as you can feel the familiar contraction building up once again. your head already has one thing in your mind as you stare at baby no. 1. that you are going to deliver his sister as safe and clear as he is.

“she’s sleeping right now.” heeseung said as he turned around to see you sitting with your back leaning against the lifted upper half of the hospital bed, suspending you as you unconsciously hold on to both of your babies who are resting their cheeks against your skin.

your parents and his parents arrived on time when the nurses escorted your sleeping self to your room. heeseung beside the two incubators with a towel around his torso, gazing at the two newborn babies as they move around and wiggle their limbs, seeing their chubby cheeks as they gaze around the room with both confusion and wonder. to see the light outside of your womb for the first time while the nurses and midwives check their conditions and record them as part of society. he sensed his mom’s hand wrapped around his shoulder, hearing her sniffles as she cooed at the baby.

“be patient, dearest. you’ll be brought to your mama soon,” he recalls hearing his mom say while her son can only stare at them, a smile urging to come out as he can feel the tears of joy forming once again.

turning to face the people, he watches the faces of his friends gazing at their new niece and nephew with various versions of happiness—some including tears. he sees ryujin having both arms behind chaeryeong, who is looking giddy, and minjeong, who is snorting into the tissues she’s holding.

“what are their names?” he hears jimin say, seeing his rare pout as he eyes all three of the sleeping figures.

“we’ve decided on it and we named them siwoo and siah,” heeseung replied with the names you and he had chosen together nearly two weeks before their arrival.

“lee siwoo and lee siah…” minjeong mumbles out, hearing the pitch of her voice rising before she weeps once again to her tissue, making ryujin tug her head to the crook of her neck.

“how are you feeling, hee?” jeongin innocently asked before beomgyu cut him off.

“what do you mean ‘how is he feeling’? he’s freaking crying,” the boy pointed out as heeseung sensed the dried tear tracks on his cheeks before another set seem to threaten to fall. yet, it is still vague for them to actually read what they meant.

“aww, heeseung…” chaeryeong coos as heeseung walks to the extra bed beside yours and sits down, rubbing the areas near both of his eyes with his hands as he felt chaeryeong sits beside him and soothing him down with a hand on his back—he now understands why you seem to love chaeryeong’s hugs so much. he bites his bottom lip to hold himself to not let a tear fall again. yet he failed once again when he looks up to see you holding both of your babies in your arms.

“i’m so fucking proud of her and i just feel awful that she’s the only that could feel that immense amount of pain,” he said his truth, wiping the tears with the hand that has a bandage brandishing his lower arm from the scratch you gave him as you gave birth. the only physical evidence of your pain that he can fully feel. chaeryeong’s soothing hand continues to calm him down as he senses another weight sitting by his side when a hand comes to push him closer to that side, smelling the familiar fragrance of beomgyu as he tucks heeseung’s head to his crook while he lightly messaged his arm.

“you’re going to be the best dad, hee,” beomgyu said as he watched the rest of them nodding their head. yet his eyes are stuck to your sleeping form, feeling the spark now catching fire as he had found the light at the end of the tunnel of guilt, shame, and despair for not being there enough for you for the past months and especially today.

to be the same dad for them and the best boyfriend for you.

the same thing couldn’t be said to you as you can feel your mood swinging about when you come home with the babies.

haseul has been helping you within the apartment as she teaches you to use the milk pumper and prepare the breastmilk for them, teaching you various tips to get your pre-pregnancy body back as you felt the belly wrap bound tight around you when you sleep in your shared bed. that’s when the baby monitor turns on when you hear the sound of one of the babies waking you up from the room across yours.

you sit up on the bed, no wick of sleep clear on your face, as heeseung stirs in his sleep when the baby’s cry gets louder from the speaker.

“whose turn is it?” he mumbles, as you stare down at him beside you. you have done graveyard shifts of taking care of your babies numerous times as heeseung couldn’t keep schedule because of his internship. so it is supposed to be his turn now to care for them.

“it’s my turn,” you replied, letting him sleep once again as you heard him hum and slip away into the slumber. his hand reaching to grasp yours before letting out a “good luck” that he has always given to you when it’s your turn to take care of them on the latest of nights.

you step out of your shared bed as you make your way across to the babies’ room to see siah wriggling in her crib, making you walk quickly so that she doesn’t wake her brother up. slowly picking her up, you lift your oversized t-shirt as you brought her lips to one of your nipples.

“come on. latch,” you mumbled as you support siah’s head as best as you can when you felt her latch onto your boob, sucking on the nipples as you feel the milk coming out so she could consume it.

“you’re a hungry, hungry baby, are you?” you lightly nagged her as you stood still, looking at siwoo who was sleeping peacefully with his pacifier even though his sister was crying her heart out. you eyed the room that you and heeseung had decorated as best as you could with the budget you set and your unpredictable schedule of staying here longer or leaving within the year of the rent. in one corner of the room sits the baby gifts people brought to the baby shower. you see the silhouette of the baby car seats you can imagine them using when they’re older so you can take them out and the set pajamas that were bought by heeseung’s family member before you turn to look at the decoration hanging from both of the cribs of animals and stars. another gift from the pile of gifts.

you rested siah’s head on your shoulder and you lightly pat her back, helping her to digest the milk she was drinking—doing everything haseul, mama, heeseung’s mom, and jeongin’s mom have told you. hearing the small burp coming out from her, you wanted to put her down so she could sleep when you sensed her gripping onto your lifted shirt, not wanting to let you go just yet. you sigh as you step to one of their cabinets to find the baby wrap, placing her on the changing station as you wrap the soft, stretchy fabric around your upper body before placing her in her designated slot; securing her legs with the wrap holding onto you tight as taught by haseul who teaches you the right way to use it.

heeseung’s hand reaches for your side, expecting to meet your body or at least your hand in his touch when he feels... nothing.

nothing but your unkept side of the comforter and the creases of the bedsheets as they are the remaining of your being.

he remembered he was woken up by the sound of the baby crying from the monitor. but with it now gone, he was already expecting you to come back to him. yet when he taps more around the surroundings of your supposed side of the bed, his eyes instantly open to see the dark empty space where you should’ve been. he doesn’t care that he has such heavy lids and wobbling steps, he just wants you back in his arms as he sleeps through the night.

opening the door to the babies’s room, he didn’t find your apparatus by the crib soothing one of the babies. heeseung lets his body glide towards the cribs, rubbing the edge of his eyes to make him awake. he eyes siwoo’s crib to find him there, looking like a cute sleepy angel. but he can’t call the same about siah’s as he finds it empty.

“(y/n)?” he calls for you, voice so small with a raspy throat as he didn’t hear your answer, waking him up with a jolt as he realizes that both you and siah aren’t here in the room.

his feet—still wobbly as fuck—brought him to the hallway as his eyes adjust to the dark; seeing the nightlight and his rgb light turned on in the living area helps him to search easier. that’s when he picked up such a clear gush of wind when he turned towards the balcony to see its sheer curtain flowing inside. he then scanned the room to discover one beanbag missing from the other as he approached the window to see it being sat by someone. someone who is sobbing.

drifting the sheer curtain away to the side, heeseung finds the face of his daughter on top of the shaking shoulder wearing a familiar pajama set. head leaning down to the front as the figure adjusts its weight on the beanbag. your hands covering your face as heeseung figures out the sound of the muffled sob coming from you.

“(y/n)?”

you jumped and turned your head around to find heeseung’s alert figure, feeling the weight of siah on you as you wrapped the cloth so tight that it was secure for you to move safely before turning back to gaze at the 3 am sky on the balcony.

“go to sleep. you have work in the morning,” you mumbled out, rubbing your hands against each other.

“i will not sleep if you aren’t,” he answered, joining you as he stepped forward to lean against the railing. the cold wind woke him up as he heard your remaining sniffles, eyes gazing at you as the tranquility seemed to turn your tear’s faucet on once again. he hasn’t noticed just how deep your panda eyes have become, knowing that the babies have awoken you for feeding time at ungodly hours. but that’s when realize how jittery you also become, how you don’t eat as much as you focus on returning your body back to how it was before you’re pregnant; how you can’t seem to define yourself after giving birth.

“i don’t think i’ll be anything other than a mom.”

his ears perk up and he swallows his saliva, processing just how concise yet poignant your words are. reminding him that you have your own perspectives, too.

“i, i don’t know. how can i be anything other than a mom when i’m here, even with all the preparation we've done, still isn’t ready to face it…”

baby blues, he remembered the doula told him as he saw you taking care of the two babies while haseul helped in cleaning the baby bottles up for you.

“you have to be prepared if she got baby blues, heeseung. especially since she’s taking care of two now. she may be hiding some things for you, but you can see it when you see it.”

“how could i help her?” heeseung said, seeing you with siah wrapped with the stretchy cloth on your back as siwoo is currently feeding off of you. a slight glow on your skin as you seem to lightly rock your body to satisfy both of them at the same time.

“help her make time for herself. she is also human with her own mind, body, and soul. help her take care of herself first by taking charge to care for both siah and siwoo.” haseul replied, turning her head so he could see her smirk of acknowledgment—heeseung is one of her students that she is proud of alongside you.

“i know you can.”

“you are also everything including being a mom, (l/n)(y/n),” he spoke, kneeling down beside your figure on the beanbag as he watched your eyes swell.

“you are your parents’ daughter. you are getting a degree in business. you are part of the most chaotic group of friends in the existence of the world. you are a caretaker of so many children who would remember just how fun you are. you’re a guitarist who can keep up and jam out with musicians. you’re a mitski fan who likes to cathartically sing your heart out to her songs. you’re a film watcher and you love japanese movies so much.” heeseung gently grasps both of your chilly hands as he monologues, seeing your swollen eyes closer under the light from the balcony’s ceiling.

“and, you’re my girl. i’m your boy. and i do think you need to embrace that more. let me take care of you.”

you let out a big exhale as a smirk pulls out of you. “if you do, well, take care of me. who would take care of the babies?”

“i would, your parents and my parents would,” he answered, big doe-like eyes trying his best to convince you, “share your burden with me, especially when i’m under your arsenal. i can definitely ask my supervisor to allow me parental leave so i can have time to take care of you and the babies. you can even apply for work-from-home internships during that.”

“then our rivalry will just… stop?” you jokingly asked, but genuinely.

you hummed as you felt him moving towards your face, kissing your forehead before trailing down to your nose bridge, your eyelids, your cheeks, then your lips—feeling the flattery jump-starting inside you.

“you’re stuck with me now, lee,” you mumbled against his lips, feeling his hand helping you to stand up from the beanbag as he gently held you, foreheads connected as he stared into your eyes that are also sparkling like what the night sky has.

“i’ve been stuck by you for years now and i’ll gladly stick onto you until the fucking heat death of the universe.”

epilogue: one year later

taglist: @raeyunshm @leilasmom @evidive @boba-beom @kwiwin @heesw1fe @aloverga @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @blurryriki @amazzwon @reallysmolrenjun @stelanity @deobitifull @mheretoreadff @gandaengene @amaraeofsunshine @possibly-zoe0218 @enhypenilycometoaus @jaysupremacy @jungwoneez @iwuvjay @erenshawtybae @nctislifue @vixensss @smilefordongil @lhspeachie @b9chira

#xylatox fic recs #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #cs: enhypen #heeseung x reader #enhypen fanfiction

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rafeslvbug · 13 hours ago

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im sorry but im LOVING pediatrician!rafe okay? like- after a bit of time going by, appointment after appointment- your daughter is his number one patient- and when we walk in with her on our hips he's talking to the secratary and sees us - his attitude immediately shifts and he BEAMMMS... and he's all like ''well hello little lady! how's our girl today huh?'' UGHHHHH PUHLEASEEEEE IM SO GONE FOR HIMMMMM!!!

(this req is too flipping cute i love you for this - set like a year in now because i’m just doing random little fics)

rushing from work, to picking your daughter up from daycare, and driving her a little over the speed limit to get to your appointment on time, it would be an understatement to say your past hour had been hectic.

it had been a nightmare.

you hated being off maternity leave, hated seeing her less and the headache of getting her to appointments, albeit less frequent, was only adding to your stress.

it all seemed to dissipate, however, when you walked through the doors, into the paediatric ward with the familiar smiles of the nurses you saw every few weeks. aurora was sat on your hip, babbling away, her favourite toy in her hand and completely oblivious to the string of curses you had let out the whole way here.

she’s just excited to be here, as she always is.

not for the toys, or the lollipop she gets after her checkups (well maybe the lollipop), but the man currently leaning over the counter, talking to a receptionist with his clipboard trapped between his bicep and the side of his body.

dr. cameron

rafe

your boyfriend

you watch the little interaction as you get closer to them, the way the nurse gives him a little head nod towards you and how he straightens, head perking up to search for you guys.

face morphing into his widest beam, he sets his clipboard down on the counter and meets you guys in the middle with two large strides. “well hey there little lady,” he grins, crouching down slightly to pinch aurora’s cheek, causing her to let out a fit of giggles.

“how’s our girl today, huh?” he turns his attention to you while lifting her out of your arms and into his, workplace professionalism be damned - there’s not a nurse in this place who’d come between dr. cameron and his girl.

you chuckle at his behaviour, always acting as if she’s changed so much in the few hours he hasn’t seen her, just because he left the house early this morning. letting his hand on the small of your back guide you into that familiar office of his, you smile up at your daughter who’s busy giving rafe the biggest doe eyes of her life.

“she’s good, didn’t throw a fit in the car today, just a lot of laughter when i said we were gonna go see daddy, didn’t you?” you coo at her, when she bursts into more infectious giggles.

rafe claws back the flush creeping on his face, even when he can’t ignore the swell of his heart at being called her dad. closing the door to his office, he presses a kiss to her cheek before settling her on the edge of the hospital bed, letting her dangle her feet while he searches his computer for some files.

glancing up briefly, he catches the sight of you brushing back her hair, using her toy to keep her occupied before he sets the files away, walking around to join you both.

he fiddles with the little flashlight in his hand before kneeling down in front of her, “alright then sweetie, just gonna do some quick tests okay?” the corners of his mouth lift upwards when she eagerly nods, letting him flash the light in both of her eyes, and check any other body parts.

since he lives with you already, checkups are fast, nothing he doesn’t already do on the daily when he’s giving her a bath or holding her in the morning. rafe’s forever making sure his little girl is okay, so unless something drastic happened in the few hours he hadn’t seen her, checkups were ten times faster than the average patient.

he made sure you booked them anyways.

he also made sure to drag them for as long as possible.

at the end, he stood up, moving past you to pluck a lollipop from the essentially mandatory jar every paediatrician had. it was always strawberry, her favourite flavour that he always kept a stash of just for her. “and this is for being so brave,” he murmured, unwrapping it for her and letting her take it from his hand, popping it in her mouth.

pressing a final kiss to her head, he lifted her off the bed and to you where she situated again on your hip, head against your chest. “you going home now?” he asked, tugging you closer with his hands on your waist.

smiling, you nodded, letting him kiss you softly before pulling away, a content look on his face. “i’ll be an hour or two, okay?” you hummed as he reluctantly let you go, watching as you slipped out the door and back to your shared apartment.

two hours felt like a long time to not see his favourite patient and his favourite girl (s).

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tswiftupdatess · 3 days ago

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Taylor Swift announces in recent letter that she bought back the master recordings to her first six albums from Shamrock Capital 🥳:

''Hi.

I'm trying to gather my thoughts into something coherent, but right now my mind is just a slideshow. A flashback sequence of all the times I daydreamed about, wished for, and pined away for a chance to get to tell you this news. All the times I was thiiiiiiiiiiis close, reaching out for it, only for it to fall through. I almost stopped thinking it could ever happen, after 20 years of having the carrot dangled and then yanked away. But that's all in the past now. I've been bursting into tears of joy at random intervals ever since I found out that this is really happening. I really get to say these words:

All of the music I've ever made.. now belongs… to me.

And all my music videos. All the concert films. The album art and photography. The unreleased songs. The memories. The magic. The madnes.. Every single era. My entire life's work.

To say this is my greatest dream come true is actually being pretty redeserved about it. To my fans, you know how important this has been to me- so much so that I'm meticulously re-recorded and released 4 of my albums, calling them Taylor's Version. The passionate support you showed those albums and the success story you turned The Eras Tour into is why I was able to buy back my music. I can't thank you enough for helping to reunite me with this art that I have dedicated my life to, but have never owned until now.

All I've ever wanted was the ooportunity to work hard enough to be able to one day purchase my music outright with no strings attached, no partnership, with full autonomy. I will be forever grateful to everyone at Shamrock Capital for being the first people to ever offer this to me. Theway they've handled every interaction we've had has been honest, fair, and respectful. This was a business deal to them, but I really felt like they saw it for what it was to me: My memories and my sweat and my handwriting and my decades of dreams. I am endlessly thankful. My first tattoo might just be a huge shamrock in the middle of my forehead.

I know, I know. What about Rep TV? Full transparency: I haven't even re-recorded a guarter of it. The Reputation album was so specific to that time in my life, and I kept hitting a stopping point when I tried to remake it. All that defiance, that longing to be understood while feeling porposely misunderstood, that desperate hope, that shame-born snarl and mischief. To be perfectly honest, it's the one album in those first 6 that I thought couldn't be improved upon by redoing it. Not the music, or photos, or videos. So I kept putting it off. There will be a time (if you're into the idea) for the unreleased Vault Tracks from that album to hatch. I've already completely re-recorded my entire debut album, and I really love how it sounds now. Those 2 albums can still have their moments to re-emerge when the time is right, if that would be something you guys would be excited about. But if it happens, it won't be from a place of sadness and longing for what I wish I could have. It will just be a celebration now.

I'm extremely heartened by the conversations this saga has reignited within my industry among artists and fans. Every time a new artist tells me they negotiated to own their master recordings in their record contract because of this fight, I'm reminded of how important it was for all of this to happen. Thank you for being curious about something that used to be thought of as too industry-centric for broard discussion. You'll never know how much it means to me that you cared. Every single bit of it counted, and ended us up here.

Thanks to you and your goodwill, teamwork, and encouragement, the best things that have ever been mine… Finally actually are.

Elated and amazed, Taylor''

(On May 30, 2025)

#taylor swift #rerecordings #taylor's version #taylorswift #may 30 #A MOMENT IN HISTORY #the eras tour #swifties #taylor's versions #taylor nation

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mia-can-yap-too · 10 hours ago

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first year!gojo who avoided you for the longest time when he first came to jujutsu high.

first year!gojo who would not-so-discreetly straight up stare steal glances at you

first year!gojo who would stutter and stumble over his words whenever you tried to talk to him. it was to be expected, seeing as he hadn't been allowed to interact with anyone outside of his clan before.

first year!gojo who tried so hard to flirt with you. his only help were two very amused classmates.

“Are you…uh..are you a domain expansion?” he asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

You stared at him. “What?”

He cleared his throat. “Because…being around you makes me feel like I accidentally activated mine…or something like that,” his voice lowered with each word.

Geto was choking on his drink in the background. Shoko was muttering something about losing brain cells.

first year!gojo who had awkwardly begged yaga to assign you both missions together. yaga was too done with everything to refuse.

first year!gojo who would save you from a curse and then trip over his own feet after. it was not as charming as it seemed.

first year!gojo who learned after 13 failed attempts that perhaps suguru wasn't the best dating coach and turned to google instead.

which is why you found him staring at a vending machine with the intensity of a man pondering the universe.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

He turned dramatically, eyes wide and eyebrows dampened with sweat as if he got caught in the act of a crime.

“I was..uh.. deciding what snack to get. For you. For… romantic purposes.”

You blinked. “For me? Why? I don't get it?” Because teenagers were very oblivious back in 2013 or whenever this happened.

“I read online that the fastest way to a woman's heart is through her stomach. Or was it a man's heart?”

first year!gojo who didn't really look you in the eye for two weeks after that.

eventually, because first year!gojo was so weird around you, you had to ask,

“Why are you so weird around me?”

He opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then did it again.

His cheeks turned pink. “B-Because you're like… cool. And pretty. And fun. And when I talk to you, my brain turns into Windows XP error noises.”

You smiled, because this was W rizz back then. “...That's actually kinda cute,” you muttered.

Gojo.exe stopped working. Geto kept shouting at Shoko for system reboots.

first year!gojo was a boy who didn't know the true extent of his cursed technique, but was still just as deadly because of his access to wifi and confidence.

a/n:- thanks to @jeonwiixard for listening to me brainstorm and spam her with messages. is this worthy as the first fic after a break?

@/strangergraphics for divs

219 notes · View notes

xylatox · 3 days ago

Text

One room over || csb

Izzy I am finally reading it god <//3 I am so excited literally the jjk mention alone has me giddy

I love it when brackets are used like this in fics and ugh. Mc’s first interaction with soobin is so cute i could cry.

“Are you okay?” Soobin’s soft voice takes you out of your thoughts, making you look at him again. “Yeah,” you nod. “Thank you, Soobin.”

This is so cute ahhh :(((((

So, he let his feelings get the best of him. He’s never done anything about them, but they were there and he knew about them.

I will always be soft when the guy just falls first and doesnt do anything about it

Please do. His eyes soften but he doesn’t say anything, biting back the words that hang on the tip of his tongue. He can’t. No matter how much his heart wants to, he knows better than to be reckless and admit his feelings in the middle of the classroom just because you said something you don’t even mean.

I wouldve loved to see how this would play out

His hand moves up on its own, coming to cup your face. But when he realizes what he’s doing, he quickly pats your head instead. That was the first and last time he was close to confessing or taking a step forward he could never take back again. He couldn’t. The more he watched your smile, the more he knew he had to hold back his feelings no matter what.

IZZY I WILL PASS OUT

“I could learn from Ryan,” you roll your eyes. Right. There he was again. Soobin’s smile falters for just a second, his mind drifting to the “absolute love of your life” as you like to call him. You knew him for just a little over a year and somehow, he managed to become one of your best friends. Which, if he was honest, was pissing him off.

No another man got her😔 And a moment to appreciate how bubbly her personality is its so cute

“What is it?” Soobin blinks as he sees Ryan leaning on the wall beside him, watching them with a smirk on his face. He shakes his head, glancing towards where you ran off before looking back at Soobin. “Nothing,” he answers, walking off with a knowing smile. Soobin frowns, sighing before following you.

Oh he knows I just know he does

His cheeks grow hotter as he notices a few of the watchers commenting how cute you two look together and some of the new fans asking if you’re his girlfriend. He doesn’t answer any of them but they sit in the back of his mind, thinking about them, about you. You don’t seem to pay them any attention but he wonders what you think of them, of the thought of you and him together.

This has me so giddy >< I love this streamer au so bad

“You should work on your expressions,” Beomgyu comments, the sound of a drawer opening and then closing again heard in the background of their call. “What are you talking about?” Soobin asks confusedly, frowning. “My chat has been asking me about you and her. Apparently it’s ‘super obvious’ with the way you look at her.”

CRYING GIGGLY EVERYTHING EEK!!

Soobin’s surprised face makes you chuckle. “Let’s take a picture, you look nice today,” you encourage, pushing him towards a body sized mirror in the hallway. He has to blink a few times before he takes out his phone but still doesn’t say anything, trying to calm himself down. This isn’t a date, he has to remind himself every time you look up at him with those sparkly eyes and make his heart race just a bit faster.

Izzy :(((( im so soft oh my god

“You mean like the fact you practically asked Taehyun to marry you the first time I introduced you?” He teases and your eyes widen as you slap his hand.

I would do this too if i was her

“Listen and see,” he smiles warmly and you roll your eyes in disbelief. The room gets quiet again and you bite the inside of your cheek so you won’t say something stupid. He shifts in his place, sighing. “If you tell me what’s bothering you it’ll be a lot easier for me to help.”

Oh hes so in love with her with that mentions of The Shade

“In that case, I think I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve.”

FINALLY AHHH!!!

“You can touch me, Soob. It’s okay.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he holds your waist again, careful, like he’s afraid to break you. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You won’t,” you assure him gently. “I’ve known you for so long there’s no way you could make me uncomfortable with some physical touch. Hug me, hold me,” you lean closer to him, lips brushing over his ear, “kiss me, ask me on dates, do whatever you want, baby.”

Theyre so cute ill fucking pass out

He nods hesitantly. “I am. Present tense.” Your hands fall to his shoulders, punching him with your fist gently (it’s more like a caress) as your head drops to his shoulder as well, hiding your face from him. “You can’t do this, that’s not fair,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to get yourself to stop blushing.

Man they are so darn cute fr

When he pulls back, he looks like you’ve just handed him the stars he thought he could never reach.

This line >>>

I LOVE how awkward Soobin is its so him coded hes so cute ugh

“Have you ever thought about the fact you and Beomgyu are like Itadori and Megumi?” You wonder, snacking on a bag of chips while watching the two interact. Soobin raises an eyebrow. “Who am I supposed to be in this incredibly wrong scenario?” He sounds almost offended and you have to sit up because of how oblivious he is. Funny, isn’t it?

Crying I love JJK and I love them :::( they really do fit them

“A boy,” he admits, his heart feeling heavier as he puts himself out there. “But I’m not–” his throat tightens when the words come out. Except for you, there was no one else he’s told. No one who he would trust enough to share the information with. “No one else knows so don’t–”

I KNEW IT. IZZIY i swear I thought it was a guy then i thought i misread and oh my god I KNEW ITTTT

He leans back with you, his arms resting on your waist as he lays down, his back pressed against the mattress. “Just for the night,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Let me want you a bit more.”

I WILL PASS OUT. I love how bottom coded soobin is someone sedate me

O god i really will pass out

“I love you,” he mumbles, just like he has many times before. But this time, it’s different after all. Because this time, you can say it back.

“I love you too, baby,” you whisper, sealing the words with a kiss.

OMG I CANT BELIEVE IT ENDED :((( IZZY im so glad i finally got to reading this oh my god its so sweet i swear. I love them soso bad

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

IN WHICH after looking for an apartment for months you finally find a nice place, but it's too big and expensive for you to live alone in it so you ask her two best friends, hoping they could help you out.

pairing– childhood bsf!Choi Soobin x fem!reader

featuring– original characters, members of txt

genre– Fluff, Smut

contains– foreigner!reader, jealous!soobin, childhood friends to lovers, best friends to lovers, roommates au, streamer!soobin, streamer!beomgyu, uni romance, sunshine!reader, she has a lively personality, Soobin is in love, like really desperately so, Soobin has a license and a car, one sided pining, Soogyu shipped as a joke, jujutsu kaisen mentioned

smut warnings– inexperienced!Soobin, dry humping, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex + creampie, breast play, missionary, oral (f. receiving)

word count– 20k

playlist

↪ izzy speaks... I'm finally getting to my old ideas!! I was so excited to write this (even though I struggled a bit as I actually don't play many games myself) and I'm really happy with how it turned out! I hope you'll enjoy it just as much <3

only lightly proofread!

The first memory of Soobin you have is from when you were ten, freshly moved into town, with no idea how to say anything but a short and simple introduction. You were in Korea for a month, still trying to figure out the alphabet and all the school paperwork in your hands written in what seemed like hieroglyphics as you walked through the school hallway, trying to find your way around.

“I give up,” you groan, your hands falling back to your sides as you look around, hoping for any clue on where the principal’s office might be. You debate calling your dad, asking him to pick you up and begging him in the car to turn down his promotion after all and take you back home because it’s hell here, but you stop yourself.

Instead, you take a few eager steps forward, determined to reach the office no matter what. But to your luck, you find yourself on the other side of the school, blinking quickly as you try to make sense of the situation unfolding in front of you. Three guys hovering over another boy who keeps his eyes on the textbook in front of him, trying to make it look like he isn’t intimidated by them. But you notice the slight flinch of his arm when one of them raises his voice.

You frown, trying to find the right words. Whatever you could say, you weren’t sure if they would understand you. You knew there wasn’t a high chance of them speaking English, and you definitely didn’t know how to tell them to get lost in their language.

You’re not sure how much time passes when you just stand there, trying to figure something out but eventually, they notice you. You watch them exchange some words that sound like curses, completely ignoring your presence as they press him further, demanding something from the poor boy in the chair.

“Leave him–” Before you can finish your sentence, a strong voice interrupts you, the Korean echoing through the empty classroom. It makes them all back up without hesitation and you turn around as well to see what was so scary behind you. Your eyes meet with an older man who you can only assume is one of the teachers. He asks you something but you just shake your head, trying to explain that you don’t understand him. It’s useless because before you can even open your mouth, his attention redirects to the boys behind you, talking to them instead.

After a short moment, his eyes travel back to you, tilting his head slightly as he observes you. “You’re the new foreign student?” Your eyes widen at his English, immediately nodding. You introduce yourself, asking him about the principal’s office. “Yeah, you’re all going to the principal’s office,” he mumbles, yelling at the boys again. You blink a few times, watching them pass by and grumble something under their breath as they follow the teacher outside.

The boy from the chair walks last, his head down and his bag swinging on his shoulder. He looks around your age, even though his height suggests otherwise. You quickly catch up to him, asking if he’s okay. He glances at you, scanning your features before nodding. You smile, offering him your hand with a memorized introduction. “Soobin,” he hesitates before grabbing your hand, frowning a bit as you shake it. He doesn’t say anything else and you don’t either, just quietly walking towards the principal’s office, preparing to get questioned about what had happened.

You quickly learnt the names of the three guys in your first week, everyone telling you to stay away from them when they heard about the incident you walked in on. Apparently, ‘Hyunwoo and his dogs’ as the kids liked to call them, were quite famous for their behaviour. From drawing on all the possible tables in school to more violent rumors, one you might have saved Soobin from that day.

You haven’t seen him since, but you found other friends. A girl that you were seated beside (Thank you, seating chart, you say to this day) and her older sister Jisoo, who you later found out was in the same class as Soobin. She helped you understand a lot of materials and kindly explained everything she could within her English skills, while Jisoo took you under her wing in the social sense, telling you everything about everyone and making sure you knew who to avoid interacting with. You were grateful to both of them, you still are to this day.

The second time you met Soobin was almost six months later in the hallway when you were rushing to your next class and accidentally bumped into an upperclassman. You mumbled an apology and tried to push past but it was already too late.

“Watch where you’re going,” Taeyang, one of Hyunwoo’s ‘dogs’ pushes you, and before you can stop the fight from happening, a group of kids creates a circle around you, some of them cheering and some whispering about what is happening. You sigh, running your hand through your hair.

“Foreigner is fighting with Taeyang in the hall right now!”

Soobin immediately looks up from his textbook, eyes widened as he watches everyone in the class stand up and rush outside to see the situation for themselves. “Oh god,” Jisoo mumbles from behind him, quickly pushing through others to get there first. He stays seated for a while, waiting for everyone to leave before standing up and making his way out.

The argument is already at its peak when he arrives, trying to make his way through the crowd of people.

“Let’s go,” Jisoo tries to tug at the hem of your shirt. “Stay out of it, Yoon,” Taeyang warns her immediately, taking a step forward. You swallow a lump in your throat as you look up at him, ready to take whatever is coming. “This little bitch thinks she can push me and then tell me to watch where I’m going.”

“That’s enough.” You jerk your head to the side when you hear the voice, your brows furrowing in confusion as you watch Soobin place his hand on Taeyang’s shoulder and push him back. “You’re crossing the line. Leave.” It’s obvious from the look in his eyes that he wants to argue, fight maybe even, but with the way Soobin towers over him and stares him down, it leaves him no other choice but to back up.

“You think you can scare me?”

“I don’t care if you’re scared. What I care about is that you’re going too far. Especially since you’re in the wrong,” he states calmly, casually moving to stand between him and you, covering both you and Jisoo from Taeyang’s sight completely. You blink a few times, confusedly glancing between your friend and the giant in front of you.

“Soobin doesn’t do fights,” Jisoo leans in to whisper into your ear. “No matter if Yeonjun or Beomgyu are involved, he avoids these situations no matter what.”

“Whatever,” Taeyang mumbles after a moment of hesitation, pushing past the crowd to get away. You watch him confusedly, trying to figure out how. How could he start a whole fight with you just to run away the second another boy shows up?

“Are you okay?” Soobin’s soft voice takes you out of your thoughts, making you look at him again. “Yeah,” you nod. “Thank you, Soobin.”

After that day, it became somehow easier for you to find your way into his life. Joining him at lunch, going to his class during break to spend time with Jisoo but eventually just striking up a conversation with him instead. You just wanted to befriend him.

And you did.

Everything turned into a routine shortly after, from eating together and spending time with each other during breaks, to studying together and hanging out outside of school as well. You often accompanied him to pc cafe’s and laughed as he argued with his best friend over who was better, and in return, he always paid for your drink. It was comfortable with Soobin, and you soon started calling him your best friend.

For Soobin, it was the same. It was comfortable hanging out with you. He could be himself without having to worry about what you thought of him. He watched you get along with his friends, immediately blending in, he admired you as you told him about your day when he walked you home—also a routine you started after a few months when you realized you live in the same direction—and he was there for you every time. No matter how bizarre your problem was, he was there, and he made sure you understood that he wasn’t going anywhere.

But over time, his affection towards you started turning into something more. He started noticing the little things you did, like scratching your nose when you tried to focus on something really hard, or how you always doodled in the corner of your notebook when you were zoning out. He tried not to pay attention to those things at first and ignore the weird feeling in his stomach every time he talked to you, but he eventually realized that wasn’t an option.

So, he let his feelings get the best of him. He’s never done anything about them, but they were there and he knew about them.

Jisoo caught onto them as well, he believes. She never said anything to him about it or you as far as he knew but it was obvious from the way she looked at him whenever he was around you. Still, he acted as if he couldn’t see it, deciding it would be for the best to just ignore whatever he was feeling so he wouldn’t ruin your friendship.

“Soobin!” The fifteen year old turned around immediately at the familiar voice, his eyes wide with question as you ran into his class, the biggest grin on your face. “Yes?”

You hold up a piece of paper in front of him, beaming like the ray of sunshine he knows you as. “Look!”

“I told you you’d do great,” he smiles back, scanning the A- on top of the page written in red ink with his eyes. “It’s only thanks to you! God, I could kiss you right now!” You exclaim, almost tearing the paper in half from excitement.

“Let’s go, you should get to your next class,” he mumbles instead, averting his eyes from you. Get a grip.

You blink at him through your lashes but nod. He’s right. You do need to get to your next class. You just wanted to show him your accomplishment first. After all, he was the one who sat with you and explained all the material to you for hours. “I’ll see you later then,” you smile, hiding the test result back into your bag. “Our place?”

“Yeah,” he nods, something you can’t quite name flickering in his eyes.

The soft ringtone echoes through the room, the flash making Soobin glance to the side. “Fuck,” he mumbles, focusing on his monitor again. “I need to take this, you got it for a second?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” his best friend, Beomgyu, answers, and Soobin immediately mutes himself, giving an apologetic look into the camera for his watchers. He notices a few comments asking who is calling him and what kind of call he is receiving but he doesn’t answer any of them, picking up his phone and turning off his webcam.

“Soobie!” You exclaim and his lips immediately curve into a smile. “Yeah?” He asks, relaxing in his gaming chair. “I found the perfect apartment!” You explain and his eyes immediately widen in excitement as well. You’ve been looking for weeks now but everything was always either too pricey or far from university. “Yeah?” He’s pretty sure you can hear the smile in his voice but he doesn’t care. “Is it close?”

“Super close! I could even skate to school if I wanted to.”

“You? Skate?” He snorts. “Like on a skateboard?” Just the idea of seeing you trying to balance a skateboard was hilarious to him. He knew that if you put your mind to it you could do it, but until then, he was free to imagine you falling over and over again.

It felt as if you were incapable of leaving him out of conversations and even though he knew he had no right to feel this way, he was jealous.

“Sure you could. Call me when you do so I can come along and see you fall over and over again.” And so I could make sure he doesn’t try anything.

“As much as I love you, you’re such a brat sometimes,” you shake your head at him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. “You got that from Beomgyu.”

“Take that back,” he fake gasps, making you laugh. There is a smile on his face again right away, his eyes softening when he listens to your laugh. “Anyway, that’s not why I called. I was thinking…maybe, we could come look at the apartment together again tomorrow. It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It’s definitely too big for me to live there alone.”

“Are you suggesting I move in with you?” Soobin blinks a few times, trying to figure out if this is a joke or one of his many dreams coming true. There was no way, right? “And finally get to escape Beomgyu’s nasty room? Please.” You laugh on the other side of the phone, again.

“He probably wouldn’t like hearing that.”

“Good thing he is in his room with headphones and I’m muted then.”

“Wait, shit, am I interrupting your stream?” Your eyes widen immediately, apologies slipping from your lips. “It’s fine,” he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. But…you’re serious, right? This isn’t one of your jokes?”

“I swear on my family that I seriously want to move in with you,” you assure him. Soobin could feel his smile growing even wider, looking at his computer screen to make sure he was still muted and his webcam was off. He wasn’t sure how he would explain his smile if he weren’t. He must have looked stupid smiling like a ray of sunshine just because his best friend was calling.

“Isn’t it still too big though? Don’t you want to look for something smaller?”

“I’m actually planning on calling Ryan right after we hang up. He’s been looking for a place as well so we could kill two birds with one stone. I wanted to ask you first, though.”

“Ryan?” Seriously? What was with his luck lately? “None of your girlfriends?”

“I do not want to be the reason you start hooking up with Jisoo or any other of my friends for that matter. So no, none of my girlfriends,” you roll your eyes, chuckling. You think it’s a joke, it was meant to sound like that, but before you can add to it, he interrupts you. “I don’t want to hook up with any of your friends,” he grumbles, taking it more seriously than he should. You frown, “Okay? Sorry, I didn’t think you would actually hook up with my friends.”

Soobin sighs, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure what’s gotten into him all of a sudden. “No, I’m sorry. So, tomorrow you said? What time?”

“Two pm! I remember your schedule correctly, right? You don’t have a lesson then, do you?”

“Nope, two pm is great,” he nods slightly, looking at the chat under his stream. They were currently laughing at something Beomgyu did but he wasn’t sure what it was. “I should get back, looks like Beomgyu did something stupid.”

“Yeah, of course. Have fun, I’ll join in a bit,” you smile, saying your goodbyes before hanging up. Soobin rests his head against his chair as he places his phone down again, groaning quietly as he hides his face in his hands. He wasn’t sure if this little arrangement you had in mind would work but he wasn’t going to miss out on his chance just because of some one-sided beef he has with Ryan. That would just be stupid.

So the next day, he finds himself standing in front of the address you provided him at 1:50, nervously looking around and trying to find you with his eyes. Instead, his eyes fall on a boy, his fluffy hair falling in front of his eyes. “Hey,” he calls at Soobin, making him force a smile as he waves at him awkwardly. “You got here earlierly.”

“Yeah,” Soobin shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Didn’t want to make a bad impression before even moving in.” Ryan chuckles, nodding, “Didn’t expect any less from you.” Soobin frowns, trying to figure out what that even means. He doesn’t say anything else though, simply joining him by his side.

Ryan is around Soobin’s height, slightly taller actually. His hair is black, catching small waves at the ends, and his eyes are a lighter shade of brown than Soobin’s. He’s in all black, like every time he’s met him, comfortable in his loose shirt and jeans. Every time they stand beside each other, Soobin wonders if that’s what you’re into. He looks down on his outfit, a white button-up with light blue jeans, a completely different aesthetic from Ryan’s.

Soobin shakes his head, snapping out of his thoughts. He wasn’t even sure what he was worried about. Sure, Ryan might play the guitar, make music, skate, possess English skills that he could only dream about and be a foreigner (which was also the reason you started talking to him in the first place), but that didn’t mean he was going to steal you from him, did it?

It doesn’t take much longer for you to arrive as well, greeting both boys with a hug. Soobin’s hands wrap around your waist, carefully inhaling the soft scent of your hair as he lingers in the hug for a little longer than he should. You giggle as you step back, smiling at them warmly. “Should we then?”

You follow the owner around the empty house, pointing at certain areas and chatting about how you could decorate it and where to put what furniture. Both guys just keep nodding to you, figuring it was for the best to just have your moment. You don’t mind.

“Okay, I’ll let you look around on your own. Just shut the door when you leave and send me a text,” she squeezes your arm lightly with a warm smile and you nod immediately. She’s sweet and has been treating you with nothing but respect and kindness since she laid her eyes on you so it was easy to return the favor to her.

“I will. Have fun on your date,” you smile, prompting the guys to say their goodbyes as you watch her leave. “You two have gotten close,” Ryan comments with a snort, making you roll your eyes. “Yeah well, I want to live here so it’s normal to have a good relationship with the owner, don’t you think?” He shakes his head at you but doesn’t say anything else.

“Well then, what do you think?” You look between the two boys, hopeful. Soobin smiles at you immediately, unable to hold back when he sees the spark in your eyes. “It’s really pretty,” he mumbles, his eyes soft. You beam right away and it makes him even less sure if he was talking about the apartment or you. “Yeah, you weren’t lying when you said it was, and I quote: ‘the only and greatest apartment to ever exist.’” Ryan laughs. You resist the urge to kick him in the leg and decide to turn to Soobin instead.

“I’ve heard the connection is great and the internet doesn’t crash or anything, so you could stream and play games without any problem. And! We could set your console in the living room and play together on the couch, that’d be fun, right?”

Soobin nods, “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“So you guys are happy? We can talk about the arrangement and settle everything? Please say yes, I’m going insane over here.” Both boys chuckle and nod, making you jump up immediately. “Okay, in that case what do you think about…”

The three of you walk around the apartment once again, deciding where to have the kitchen corner, which bathroom will be yours and which the boys, and then also assigning the bedrooms. Ryan immediately took dips on the smallest one, saying something about it being cozy and just spacious enough for him and his music, which left you and Soobin.

“It’s yours,” he says calmly as you stop in the largest room. You glance up at him, shaking your head. “No, no, you should have it. You need space for your computer and all, you should take the room. I’m fine with the other one,” you assure him but he doesn’t budge, trying to use the gentleman card and saying you should have the first pick as the female. Jokes on him, you immediately played around with his words and said you want to pick the slightly smaller one. He wanted to convince you to have it but before he could open his mouth again, you ran off.

And just like that, after a little paperwork and preparation, you slowly start moving in, until the apartment is full of boxes, furniture, books, and laughter from all three of you. It doesn’t take long for you to ease into a comfortable rhythm, dividing chores and setting some ground rules to avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings or fights.

It all feels easy, honestly. You spend every morning in the kitchen together before leaving for school and then relax together again over dinner. It often ends up with all of you disappearing into your own rooms and studying or simply doing your own thing, but every once in a while, you stay longer, playing games on the TV with Soobin or watching a movie with Ryan. You always laugh loudly with them, and it makes you appreciate them a tiny bit more.

“This is the last time I let you pick a game,” Soobin mumbles, staring at his computer screen, headphones on and his stream on his other monitor. It’s been a good two hours and half of him and Beomgyu playing roblox games and every time it was Gyu’s turn to pick what they were going to play, he came with some terrible, cringe one, full of thirteen year olds telling them both they were fucking their moms. It was interesting, for sure, to see what was going through the heads of kids these days.

“Not my fault you don’t know how to have fun.” Soobin rolls his eyes, looking over at the chat. Half of them were sending a laughing emote, while the other half encouraged Soobin to play more, having fun while watching him suffer. “Let’s play something normal, please.”

“Chat, this is him just saying he wants to play doors. Again,” Beomgyu scoffed. “Fine, we can play but if you die at the beginning again I swear I will drive to your apartment and choke you to death.”

“Warning received,” Soobin snorts. “Let’s finally get through level 100, it’s embarrassing at this point.” Beomgyu couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t the first roblox stream they did together and somehow, they always ended up playing at least a few rounds of the game but never made it past level 80. Either Soobin died too soon by the stupidest death possible, or he lost the run at level fifty. Either way, Beomgyu always ended up alive alone, with little to no chances.

The game started and like always, it took them more than way too many tries to have them both alive by the time they reached level seventy, both hiding in their own closets as Soobin swore he saw the light flicker. Beomgyu was skeptical about believing him at first but as the closet shakes and a dark shadow runs in front of him, he sighs in relief.

“Okay, let’s just stay alive for a bit longer,” Gyu comments, running to a door with number seventy one. It’s just a few doors later that Beomgyu dies on accident, leaving Soobin alone. There’s a loud curse that leaves his lips and it causes you to peek into his room. Soobin notices you in the corner of the stream recording and pushes his headphones off while keeping his eyes on the game as he gets through another door. “Sorry, am I being too loud?”

“No, it’s fine,” you shake your head, smiling awkwardly as you come closer. It’s not the first time you’ve appeared in one of his videos but it still feels embarrassing. You wouldn’t say you’re exactly fit for the camera. “What are you playing?” You ask, answering yourself when your eyes land on the screen. “Hey, Beom,” you lean even closer so you reach Soobin’s microphone, giggling slightly.

Soobin watches you, really hoping no one is about to kill him because he can’t focus on anything other than your figure beside him. He is in so much trouble.

Your name leaves Beomgyu’s lips like a prayer, almost begging you to take over and push through the levels which has the chat laughing on the side. You look at your best friend to see if Gyu is exaggerating or if he really needs help. He only gives you a shy smile, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Alright, get up. You’re getting benched,” you laugh as he stands up from his chair and you sit down instead, greeting the chat warmly before focusing solely on the game.

Soobin brings another chair to sit on, leaving it in the background as he watches, a part of him absolutely in love as you interact with his chat and push past the levels, the other part feeling angsty. You’re right here, making him feel like the luckiest boy on the planet but at the same time, you’re as far as you can be.

Somehow, in the blink of an eye, you manage to pass level one hundred and Soobin snaps out of his thoughts as your loud cheer echoes through the room. You turn to face him immediately, excitement written all over your face and he gives you one of his proud smiles, wishing to do nothing else but wrap his arms around you and never let go.

“Okay you can die now, I want to play something else,” Beomgyu says, making you turn again which causes Soobin’s face to fall for a brief second. “I should go. I can’t steal Soobin’s job entirely,” you laugh, the sound sending a wave through Soobin’s body. Yeah, he was fucked.

You really do leave shortly after and Soobin ignores all the comments asking about you, playing for another hour before he ends the stream, sighing loudly as he leans back in his chair.

“I don’t look at her anyhow,” he argues and a scoff leaves Gyu’s lips. “Say that to the fans and editors because I’ve seen you, it is super obvious. I want to tell you you have nothing to worry about, I really do, but who knows what she’s going to think when people start shipping you together and pointing out you are head over heels for your best friend.”

“They already ship you and me together. They do think I’m head over heels for my best friend,” Soobin rolls his eyes, trying to make a joke out of the situation. Because Beomgyu was right, and he wasn’t sure how he would explain it to you if you believed them.

“Babe, I thought we were keeping it a secret,” Beomgyu gasps dramatically, making him laugh. “And also, we divorced the moment you decided to move out and live with your side chick and arch nemesis.”

“Okay, stop calling them that.”

“Why? Am I speaking lies? You literally told me and Yeonjun that you were going to die living with your biggest enemy and jerking off material in the same house.”

“I didn’t! Stop calling her those weird names, god,” he groans, closing his eyes from embarrassment. Beomgyu laughs on the other side of the phone. “Then do something so I can finally call her your girlfriend because this isn’t even funny anymore.”

“I’m hanging up,” Soobin proclaims, completely ignoring his best friend and the incredibly stupid topic of conversation. “Have a good night.”

“Coward!” Beomgyu accuses him with a laugh before saying his goodbye and hanging up. Soobin sighs, staying seated in his place for a while longer before finally deciding to stand up and leave his room to get something to eat.

He comes into the kitchen right when you’re in the middle of plating a pizza on three plates, making him raise his eyebrow as he comes closer. “I didn’t know you brought pizza.” You look up at him and smile as you hand him his portion. “Not me. Ryan did. His date bought it apparently,” you wiggle your eyebrow teasingly. Soobin blinks quickly to hide the surprise on his face, holding onto the plate with his two pieces. “I didn’t know he was seeing someone.”

“It’s a secret, act like you don’t know or else he’s going to kill me. He said it’s top secret information but who would I be to keep anything from my favorite best friend?” You lean closer to him, whispering with a soft giggle. You pull back and smirk, “don’t say that to anyone either, though. I can’t have them know you are my number one.”

Soobin feels like he stops working for a second. Your perfume reaches his nose, already making him weak in the knees. And as if that wasn’t enough you keep saying things that mess with his head. Things that definitely aren’t good for his mental health. He isn’t a psychiatrist but he is sure that if he attended therapy the first thing they’d tell him would be to stop thinking about you like you’re his soulmate and distance himself.

“Also, Ryan said he’s going to be out tomorrow night so we’ll have dinner without him.” Soobin hesitates, taking a bite of his food as he watches you. “Do you want to go out then?” He asks, a little more hopeful than he should be. “We can get something to eat and do something fun.”

“That sounds great,” you beam immediately, grinning widely as you pick up the two plates from the counter. “Late night drive around with some maccies is what I’ve been craving.”

“Okay, then we have a plan,” he smiles and you walk off to Ryan’s room, letting him know you’re going to watch a movie together and that if he needs anything, he can just text you.

He doesn’t. Because all he can think about for the rest of the night is that Ryan is seeing someone who isn’t you. The day couldn’t get better.

“Come here,” you shake your head, making your best friend look up. Soobin blinks a few times but listens, closing the distance between you. You undo his tie, causing his eyes to widen. You don’t say anything, simply redoing it to make it look better. It’s been his thing, wearing button-ups with a tie every day and making it look casual but somehow, he still managed to mess up. It was kind of cute, honestly. “There,” you smile, taking a step back to take a proper look.

He wraps his arm around your waist and you lean closer to him, smiling into the mirror as he takes a picture of the two of you. You ask him to send it to you immediately after it’s done and he just nods, mumbling a quiet “will do,” before grabbing his car keys and stepping into his shoes.

You grab a jacket from the hanger, following Soobin out of the door as you rant about being hungry and how it took him forever to end his stream and dress up. He doesn’t argue with you because he knows you’re right. It’s already way past 10pm. He knows he is lucky he offered to buy otherwise you might actually choke him.

You sit in the passenger seat, scrolling through your playlist as you try to find something fitting the vibe while Soobin drives off, taking you to the closest McDonalds like you asked the day before. “Oh. My. God. This is it!” You exclaim and Soobin glances at you, raising an eyebrow curiously. When Home by Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros starts playing on his car’s speaker and you show him the playlist you’ve made with him when you were in high school, his eyes soften.

“That was definitely one of my most played songs a few years back,” he mumbles, taking a turn to the right. “And it was your fault because you loved borrowing my phone for music.” You giggle, placing the phone down and looking out the window. The sun has long gotten down, now replaced with a night sky full of stars. It was quiet, the only sound interrupting your thoughts the song you put on and occasional cars in the other line.

Soobin only stops the car once he gets to the drive through, lowering the music so it’s barely audible. You don’t even get a chance to speak up before he is already ordering, making sure to get everything you could possibly want. You just watch him, admiring him from your place. It’s easy with him, comfortable, and every time you see him act so boyfriendable, you wonder why he doesn’t have a girl already. You know this is exactly what girls search for in guys, you aren’t an exception. After Jisoo pointed it out one time, you realized you always looked for a piece of your best friend in the guys you dated.

“Anything else?” He turns to you, the softest smile on his face and you just shake your head, your lips curling into the same stupid grin. “Okay, that’ll be all then,” he says happily, slowly driving the car forward to pick up the drinks. He puts a coke in the middle of the two of you before handing you a milkshake, placing his own beside the coke.

The happiness is obvious on your face as you get your hands on the food and Soobin drives off, trying to think of a spot to park the car so he could eat as well. “God, this is exactly what I meant when I said I want to have late night car dates with you back when we were little with no idea how cars work,” you take a bite, leaning into your seat. “This is so good.” That’s when an idea flickers in his head, turning the car around as soon as he can. “Remember when we used to hang out at the playground and you’d dream about staying there forever?”

“Oh my god! And then you’d tell me that’s not possible because I’d catch a cold and die alone because you wouldn’t stay there forever with me! I was so mad at you and cried to Jisoo about not wanting to die alone!” You laugh at the memory.

“I just wanted to make you go home where you’d be safe,” he proclaims, his eyes focused on the road. “But if it wouldn’t work and you’d want to stay there, I would have stayed with you forever,” he says casually, so simply that you don’t think anything of it because in reality, it’s just a few words. But he is anything but calm as he secretly glances at you in the rearview mirror, hoping to catch something in your expression. You giggle again, sharing the briefest smile with him before taking a sip of the coke.

He should feel disappointed or sad that his words do nothing to you. He should. If it was him, and you told him you would stay with him forever, he might as well drop to one knee and propose to you immediately. But you aren’t him. And even though he knows you don’t feel the same attraction to him like he does, he can’t seem to feel the sadness or anger. All he feels is happiness. Happiness that despite all that, he can still have you like this, beside him, laughing as you talk about childhood memories, looking equally as pleased as he is.

Your eyes widen when you notice him parking near the playground you were so obsessed with when you were younger. “It still stands,” you whisper, the sound so quiet you think he doesn’t even catch it. “They’ve made some changes throughout the years but yeah, still stands.” You turn to face him, your expression a mixture of happiness, gratefulness, but also vulnerability because of all the memories the playground holds. His eyes soften, if that was even possible anymore. “Let’s go?”

You settle on the top of the slide, your legs tangled together as you try to fit into the small space for kids. All the food is placed between you, and the only sounds filling Soobin’s ears are your giggles as you play with your food and tease him endlessly. He takes out his phone and you grin, posing with your milkshake. He laughs as well, putting the phone down beside him as he takes a handful of fries.

A comfortable silence settles over you, the street lamp casting a soft light over his face. He leans back, watching the sky as if he wanted to count every star possible.

“Do you ever wonder how we work out?” His eyes flicker back to you, his expression slightly confused. “What do you mean?”

“Just that…I know people used to think we were a weird duo. Remember when Yeonjun saw us hanging out for the first time and asked you if I didn’t black mail you into dealing with me?” You laugh quietly at the memory, taking another sip of your milkshake. “But then again, I guess you do keep similar types of people around you.”

“Did you just accidentally compare yourself to Beomgyu?”

You gasp, trying to sound offended. It doesn’t last long because you end up laughing again. It’s always easy to laugh with him. “I mean, I guess. I don’t know what I’m talking about, honestly. It’s probably the fact we’ve been friends for so long and I already know all your deepest darkest secrets so I can’t ask about that.”

“You mean like the fact you practically asked Taehyun to marry you the first time I introduced you?” He teases and your eyes widen as you slap his hand. “Come on! Don’t go revealing my secrets like it’s nothing! Plus, we were eleven and unlike your other friends, he was the only one treating me like a lady instead of your little punching bag!” You complain.

“Definitely not my fault Yeonjun and Beomgyu were immature little shits,” he laughs. “Yeah, well, they still are,” you huff even though you know it’s far from that. Yeonjun has turned into a gentleman who helps old people carry things when he sees them struggling without a second of hesitation, and Beomgyu has been nothing but respectful to every woman he’s met since you slapped him for making an inappropriate joke back when you were fourteen.

Soobin shrugs, unable to hide the smile on his face, “It’s good you’re always there to put them back in their place then.” You roll your eyes playfully, your eyes narrowing in mischief that doesn’t pass by unnoticed by your best friend. But before he can ask what you’re thinking about, you quickly untangle your legs and sit at the top of the slide, glancing at him over your shoulder. “First one on the swing wins.”

The night is filled with laughter and stupid jokes as you move around the playground. You get to the swing first, partly because you gave yourself an advantage, but mostly because he has no desire to win. He does get down as well though, and ends up lazily swinging you back and forth while you talk about how school is going and he tells you about today’s stream. It’s intimate, and anyone walking near would think you’re on a date, but the thought doesn’t even cross your mind for a brief second.

Soobin can’t say the same thing. Because with every brush of his hand on yours, every joke you crack, every memory, and every smile he gets from you, the more he has to remind himself that this is just a casually friendly hangout and he has no right to think of you in the way he does. If he allows himself to believe anything else it won’t go nicely for him. Because no matter how much he wishes to have you more than he already does, he knows it’s not possible.

“I think we work out because you’ve always just been you around me without being worried about what I’d think and I’ve always admired you, knowing I’d do anything for you just to keep you in my life.”

The words come out before Soobin can think them through. It’s raw, so vulnerable that he can’t bear looking you in the eyes afterwards, turning around and walking back to the slide to grab all the trash you left there. You blink a few times, smiling like a little kid as you watch him comfortably reach for everything when the memory of little Soobin flashes into your mind and you remember how much he struggled to reach it before. You’ve both surely grown a lot.

“We should get back, it’s late,” he mumbles, still avoiding looking you in the eyes. You don’t point it out even though you’re confused on why that is and follow him to his car, quickly dozing off as he drives off and Everyone Adores You (at least I do) by Matt Maltese from your high school playlist plays in the car.

You’re not sure how you got to bed last night but you don’t exactly care either. All you care about is that your makeup is wiped off and you can get ready without cursing at yourself for sleeping without doing your night routine.

You join Ryan in the kitchen with a warm greeting and he gives you an awkward smile, immediately making you narrow your eyes as you question what happened. Sure, he wasn’t exactly a morning person but that never stopped him from smiling for real when he saw you. He sighs, a sound so heavy and tired you know whatever he’s about to tell you isn’t going to be good.

You sit on the couch and talk about his date from last night, the English echoing through the apartment. It was always easier for the two of you to talk in English as you could express yourself better and get the emotions out right, especially if it was just the two of you and you didn’t need to worry about leaving anyone out of the conversation by them not being able to understand you. Normally, if you were having a conversation in English and Soobin joined you, you’d try to switch to Korean as quickly as possible, but this time it just didn’t feel right. So you let Ryan talk without pointing out the fact Soobin stood on the side, frowning as he tried to make sense of what he was saying.

“Who has a boyfriend?” He asks confusedly and when the Korean reaches Ryan’s ears, he switches as well. “It’s just–” he sighs again. “My date from last night. I found out good twenty minutes into the date because guess what, he was the fucking cook in the restaurant and I was just there to make him jealous.”

You feel sorry for him. This was the first time since he moved to the country that he was brave enough to go on a date with someone and this is how it turned out. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug, rubbing soft circles on the back of his neck instinctively. You don’t even realize you’re doing so but Soobin does, and as soon as he sees you like this with Ryan, something in him boils. No matter how many times he reminds himself he has no right to feel jealous, the emotion creeps up his spine before he can stop it.

“You can’t blame yourself for how things turned out. You couldn’t have known. Next time will be better. I can help you find–”

“I’m done with dating. Never was for me anyway,” he interrupts you, pulling back so you let him go and he can stand up. “If it was, I wouldn’t be this way.” His last words hit the hardest but before you can call after him and tell him he’s wrong, he locks himself in his room, leaving you frozen on the couch, feeling as bad for him as you can.

“I thought girls love musicians. He has a lot of fans, doesn’t he? Surely there is someone who would love him in a way he deserves,” Soobin comments as he prepares his breakfast, scanning your face for any signs that you might be looking to love him in that way. “It’s complicated,” you mumble as you join him, glancing at Ryan’s bedroom door. “I just wish he wouldn’t think so badly of himself.”

Ryan leaves the apartment as soon as he steps out of his room again to get to his morning lessons on time while you and Soobin watch him from the kitchen. You wish him good luck before he can leave and he smiles slightly but doesn’t say anything else, wanting to be left alone as soon as possible. You don’t blame him, honestly.

“Should we go as well?” Soobin asks, breaking the silence that’s taken over the apartment. “Yeah, I’m just going to run to the bathroom real quick,” you nod, doing as you said before leaving with Soobin by your side.

You notice a few girls chatting and giggling while watching you as soon as you step on campus but you don’t pay it much attention, convincing yourself you’re imagining it. It’s not until your third lesson that you share with Jisoo that you find out the looks weren’t just in your head.

“How could you not tell me?” She questions, offended, as she plops her bag onto the chair beside you. You blink confusedly, turning your head to face her. “Tell you what exactly?” You ask confusedly, watching her sit down. “That you’re dating?” She scans your face for an answer before her eyes widen. “Oh my god, you’re not dating!” She gasps, quickly searching for something on her phone. “I thought that you finally got together! God, I got totally fooled!”

She hands you her phone and your eyes land on Soobin’s new post. He posted last night, shortly after you made it back home. The first picture is of you and him in the hallway, the picture you made him take before going out. You swipe to look at more, your eyes scanning the photo of the food you had, all laid out on the top of the slide, your figure on the side. The next one is the one with a milkshake. It makes you smile. The last one is of the night sky, all pictures put together under one description: Healing night.

You bite back your smile, your ears catching red as you open the comments. There are girls calling you pretty, some people asking if this is a hard launch, a few asking where the pictures are from, but a heavy amount of the comments are just people saying how good you look together.

Your eyes widen and you give Jisoo her phone back, trying to figure out what the right words are. “You’re blushing,” she comments before you get the chance to tell her you’re not dating your best friend. “I’m not,” you argue and she eyes you up and down. “Hm,” she hums as if she just understood your whole. “Have you ever thought about Soobin in a romantic sense?”

“What? No. He’s my best friend,” you shake your head to refuse but for some reason, the thought flickers in your head. Being with him, going on dates similar to last night, having a partner that knows you like no one else, someone you trust with your life. It’d be nice to have someone who’s already so close to you become something even more. But it’s Soobin you’re thinking about, the same boy who watched you on every step of your childhood since you moved, the same boy who saw all your embarrassing moments and showed you that opposite gender friendships were possible.

It’s Soobin, the same boy who could never think what you’re thinking about right now, so why does your heart race a bit faster at the image of it?

“So? That’s not a disease, love,” she reminds you and a part of you questions if she just wants to hear you say you’re in love with your best friends. Unfortunately for her, the answer will be no. You’re not in love with him, even though you’re now stuck with the image of dating him in your head. “I never said it was. I simply never thought about him in that sense.”

“And are you now?”

“What?”

“Are you now thinking about him in that sense?”

You blink, opening your mouth to protest. No sound comes out and you end up closing it again, which leaves her with a knowing smirk. You scoff, opening your laptop instead as you try to focus on anything else.

Jisoo doesn’t bring it up anymore, obviously pleased with your answer, or the lack thereof, but that doesn’t mean it just disappears like you wish it would. Throughout the rest of the day, there are a few more girls who come up to you just to ask if you’re dating Soobin and each time, you tell them the same thing. “He’s just my friend, we went out because we live together and no one wanted to cook.”

Every time you say so, they give you a smirk or giggle in exchange before running off again and you know they don’t believe you. For all know there might be a rumor going around the school already that Soobin, the streamer half of this University watches in their free time, is dating you.

“No, I’m not dating Choi Soobin, the pictures you’ve seen weren’t from our date,” you sigh automatically when you hear someone clear their throat behind you to get your attention. Your eyes widen when you see Ryan, relief brushing over you. “God, you wouldn’t believe the day that I had.”

“I’ve heard,” he nods, walking beside you. “I talked to Jisoo earlier, she finds it all amusing.”

“Of course she does,” you scoff. “She’s been trying to get me to admit my feelings or something.” You tell him about your conversation, leaving out the fact that ever since you found out about it, you’ve been unable to focus on anything other than your best friend. And when you thought about it, you couldn’t even blame them for believing you were together with him.

“Why don’t you confront him about it?” You frown slightly, fixing your bag strap as it slides off your shoulder. “About what? It’s not like it’s his fault we look like a couple in those pictures.” Ryan shrugs. “Well, that’s true but you could ask him about it, find out what he thinks and all.”

“No, he’s going to think I’m weird for paying attention to things like that,” you whine, making him roll his eyes at you. “I know you, and I know you’re thinking about him so take a step forward and ask him if he’s thinking about it as well otherwise it’s never going to happen. He’s too big of a coward to say anything.”

“You don’t make any sense,” you mumble, taking out your keys and unlocking the door when you get to the apartment building. “You say that because apparently I’m the only one with eyes. Do you genuinely not see the way he looks at you?”

You stop midstep, hitting Ryan with your bag on accident as you turn to face him, blinking confusedly. “What?” He sighs, pushing the door open and taking a step inside when you don’t move. “Just focus on his eyes at dinner,” he says, walking off before you can ask anything else.

He knows it’s not his place to say anything but honestly, he’s had enough of Soobin’s longing glances you somehow never caught. And if there was the chance you would now look at him the same and he’d have to live watching the two of you pine after each other, he’d much rather just tell you about Soobin’s feelings instead of waiting for him to confess.

Sitting on your bed with a study sheet opened on your laptop is doing nothing to help you memorize the material and after a few minutes, you end up closing it and giving up. It’s unbelievable how much of an influence just one day can have on your whole thinking. You keep replaying the comments in your head along with Jisoo’s and Ryan’s words.

And then, before you can stop it, you think about how it’d be like if you did date Soobin. Your gaming leveled up with cuddles, kisses and confessions added to the mornings spent together, dates that leave people feeling jealous because of how great he is to you, the sleepless nights full of need replaced with his comfort, his fingers making you finish faster than your own–

You quickly shake your head to snap back, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. You were never supposed to think of him that way.

Making your way out of the room again and almost colliding with Soobin as he tries to go to the bathroom is not ideal since you can’t even look him in the eyes but you hope he doesn’t notice. You’re not ready to explain that you’re avoiding him now because, ever since people started thinking you were dating, you haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about him.

You apologize before running into the kitchen, your eyes screaming for help as soon as Ryan turns to you. He simply laughs and shakes his head, paying attention to the rice he is cooking again. “What? You’ve seen a ghost?”

“This is all your fault!” You complain. “You messed with my head. You and Jisoo both did.”

“Oh no, is this the part where you realize he is also a man and has a dick he can use?” Your cheeks turn red but thankfully you can stop before your imagination goes wild. “Shut up! He literally lives here!” You whisper yell at him, checking if he’s still in the bathroom and can’t hear you. “You didn’t deny it,” he points out immediately, turning off the heat.

“I hate you.”

“You love me,” he corrects with a smirk, making you roll your eyes. “I’m never speaking to him again and it’s your fault, just so you know.”

“Who aren’t you talking to?” Soobin’s voice makes you close your eyes in regret. “No one, doesn’t matter,” you brush it off, hoping he’ll leave it at that. To your luck, he walks closer to you instead and eyes you up and down. “Are you okay?” He asks, the worry in his voice hitting you. His eyes look broken as well, something deeper behind them. This all because of you? You swallow, smiling at him as you nod, assuring him it’s all good.

“The dinner–” you start but Ryan interrupts you by clearing his throat, giving you one stern look. “Is going to take a bit longer and Ryan said he’ll take care of it, so can we talk?” You ask even though every part of your body tells you to do the exact opposite and run away as far as you can from this conversation. Preferably pretend you never got yourself into this situation.

“Of course,” he nods, glancing at Ryan quickly as if to ask if anything was going on. He just gives him a reassuring smile and encourages for the two of you to leave.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? What’s going on?”

“Let’s sit down,” you say, shaking your head and following him to his bedroom. You make yourself comfortable on his bed while he sits down on his gaming chair, trying to read through you and see what you’re thinking. He stays silent, giving you all the time you need and simply watching you. That’s when you notice it, the look in his eyes Ryan mentioned. There’s something—something you can’t quite name, that makes you feel at home. You weren’t sure what love looked like but you could imagine it being pretty damn close to what you see in his eyes.

“The photos from last night are really pretty, I’m still waiting for you to send them over,” you start, carefully observing him. “Right, sorry, I completely forgot,” he apologizes, taking out his phone without any hesitation. Your own rings in your pocket and you assume it’s the pictures. “Thank you,” you mumble, playing with your fingers in your lap awkwardly. “No problem.”

“We should…do it again. I had fun. It reminded me of a lot of memories,” you keep your eyes down but you can still feel his gaze on you as he tries to read you. You’re sure he sees through you but you can’t bring yourself to actually ask what’s on your mind. “I’ve been listening to the playlist as well, it needs an update.”

He hums, his eyes never leaving yours. “The Shade, Rex Orange County.”

“What?”

“You should add that to our playlist,” he explains.

“What is it about?”

You hesitate before sighing as well. “Do you ever read comments under your posts?” You ask, watching his eyes widen. Yeah, he definitely knows what you’re talking about. “Sometimes, I guess,” he says, trying to sound calm. You hum. “The pictures from yesterday…” you trail off, rethinking your words. “A lot of people asked if we are together, and that we’d look good as a couple. Some people asked me about it today as well,” you admit.

“The fans get like that,” he mumbles, averting his eyes from you. “They keep trying to find anything about my personal life they can. You don’t need to pay much attention to it. After all, they ship me and Beomgyu as well,” he laughs awkwardly and you catch the slight discomfort in his voice. “It’s just what comes with the job.”

You listen to him, keeping quiet and taking in his words. Maybe he was right. It was just how fans get, what happens when you decide to put yourself out there for the world to judge, but if what you caught in his eyes was anywhere close to what you thought, you couldn’t just drop it.

“So you never thought about…us? Together?” You ask quietly, your heart skipping a beat when his eyes lock with yours again and you see the flicker of emotion behind them again. It definitely wasn’t just in your head. Something like an attraction was hiding in his eyes and you felt stupid for not noticing earlier.

Soobin doesn’t answer right away. You can see his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers tighten slightly around the hem of his sleeve like he’s bracing himself. “I did,” he admits and for a second you feel like your heart stops beating. “But that’s just stupid, right? It’s nothing, doesn’t mean anything. The fans got into my head and I’m talking nonsense, forget it,” he blurts out so quickly you almost don’t understand anything.

“Soobin, calm down.” He looks at you, vulnerable, and you fight the urge to get up and swallow him in a breath-taking hug. “I’m not saying it’s…wrong, or stupid.”

“I’m sorry. Forget about it, really. I’m so, so, so sorry.” A part of you breaks when you see him like this, looking like he convinced himself thinking about you in that sense was wrong, that he wasn’t allowed to. It hurts you to see someone so important to you blame himself for something he doesn’t need to because of you.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you assure him, slowly getting up from his bed and walking over to him. You kneel in front of him and hold his hands in yours so he keeps his eyes on you. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind if you did think about me that way,” you smile slightly, looking up at him through your lashes. “Maybe I’d like that.”

His hands squeeze yours without even realizing, his breath shaking as he comprehends your words. He doesn’t say anything, barely even blinks, out of fear that if he moves even just slightly, you’ll disappear and he realizes it’s all just a dream.

But you stay, holding his hands as if it’s the most normal thing in the world and there’s nothing to worry about. He exhales quietly, finally closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel. The warmth of your hands, your soft voice as you assure him you’re there and real, and the scent of you that he is convinced he can never get enough of.

“In that case, I think I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve.”

Dinner was quiet that night. Ryan tried to ask you how it went and if you’re with him now, but you just brushed him off, stealing glances and smiles from Soobin the whole evening. It was a bit awkward and new, but you didn’t mind. Just knowing you weren’t the only one thinking about it was enough for now.

You decided to watch a movie with Ryan when you were done eating and even though your attention was now on the movie options, you noticed Soobin’s glare before he disappeared back into his room without another word. It made you blink a few times, almost as if to see you weren’t imagining it. When you averted your eyes from the now closed door, Ryan didn’t forget to mention you were blushing.

And so, you spent the whole night thinking about what was going to happen now. Would anything really change? Honestly, you wanted it to. For some reason, after hearing your best friend has been in love with you for almost as long as you’ve known him, had a bigger impact on you than you thought it would. And after dreaming of holding his hand and kissing him the whole night, you wanted nothing more than to do so in the morning.

Soobin and Ryan are already in the kitchen when you wake up and make your way over, sharing a warm smile with them and a quiet “good morning.” Ryan answers you first, greeting you before running off to the bathroom, saying something about being late. Bullshit. Still, you let him do whatever he wants and walk closer to Soobin, your smile more cautious now as you try to see where the line lies.

Soobin looks at you the same, wary but happy. He leans against the kitchen counter, his eyes flickering to where Ryan just disappeared before landing back on you. You raise your eyebrow, stopping in front of him. You hold his hands carefully, searching for any sight of discomfort before you bring his hands to your waist, leaving them there. The emotion behind his eyes switches immediately, now way more calm and soft. “Good morning,” he greets you, squeezing your waist lightly to make sure it’s real.

“Slept well?” You ask, gently placing your hands on his biceps. “Yeah,” he nods, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You smile, stroking his arm in a reassuring motion. “What were you planning on getting for breakfast? I’m starving.” He quickly blinks before letting his hands fall back to his side when you switch conversation, making you shake your head. You don’t push him though, watching him as he moves around the kitchen to prepare one more toast for you.

You grab the plate from him with a “thank you,” when he’s done and jump up onto the counter, encouraging him to come closer to you. He listens, standing between your thighs. You put the plate beside you and cup his face, your breath shaking as your eyes flicker from his to his lips.

Soobin shivers under your touch, your words messing with his head more than they should. His breath hitches and his grip on your waist tightens to steady himself. The nickname rings in his ears and his neck turns pink, slowly raising his head to look at you. “Can you say it again?”

Your smile widens and you brush your thumb across his cheek. “Baby?” You tease him, watching his reactions. “Oh, god, who would have guessed you’d get this cute for me?”

He blushes, trying not to think much about your words. It was embarrassing. “You need to give me time to adjust. I’ve never…you know I haven’t been with anyone before.” Your eyes widen in realization, “because you were in love with me?”

Soobin turns his head slightly to look at you, his breathing uneven as he watches you from so up close. It’s a sight he thought he could only dream about. His hand moves from your waist to your lower back, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. It’s partly to calm you down even though he thinks it’s not going to work, but mostly for himself. He needs to feel you under his hand, know that you’re real and this is now his reality. Because, god, does it feel like a dream.

You raise your head again, gazing into his eyes. You both hesitate and his hand stops mid movement as he looks at you. He gives you a small nod and you lean closer, pressing your lips against his gently. He kisses you back, even though you can feel how much he’s thinking it all through. You smile into the kiss and just that simple motion is enough to calm him down and allow himself to enjoy it, his lips soft against yours.

When he pulls back, he looks like you’ve just handed him the stars he thought he could never reach.

You leave the apartment first, rushing to get to your first lesson with the kiss still lingering in the back of your mind, the feeling of his lips against yours vivid. There’s a smile on your face when you get to class and it takes all your strength to make yourself focus on the new material instead of your best friend.

Jisoo notices the change as soon as she sees you. Obviously. She smirks as her eyes scan you, trying to figure out what it is that’s different. “You look overly happy,” she says and your grin widens. “I am,” you nod. “What’s the occasion?”

“I may or may not have kissed someone this morning,” you admit and her eyes widen immediately. “Oh my gosh!” She exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer so others won’t hear your conversation. “It’s Soobin, isn’t it? Please tell me it’s him.” You laugh, nodding, and she squeezes your hand in excitement. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this! I’ve been secretly cheering you two on ever since I saw how he looked at you when we were little.”

Your eyes widen. “Has everyone always seen it except for me?!” You whisper yell, questioning how you could be so blind for all those years. “Ryan pointed it out as well.”

“And that’s exactly why I always loved Ryan,” Jisoo giggles. “And? What else? I need to hear everything!” You chuckle, briefly looking around before turning back to her again and telling her about everything. From the way your mind went crazy after she asked you if you’ve ever thought about him in a romantic sense to this point, repeating how cute he is over and over again.

That’s when you realize the saying “speak of the devil and he shall appear” is very true. Because at the same time, your phone starts ringing, lighting up with Soobin’s contact info and making the flutter in your stomach return. Your eyes soften immediately and you give Jisoo one apologetic look before picking up.

“Yes?” You ask softly, already smiling.

“Hi,” his voice is soft even through the phone.

“What’s up? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, all good. You’re free for an hour at 12, right?” You blink and nod, for a second forgetting he can’t see you. “I do, I was planning on having lunch then.”

There’s a short pause but you don’t rush him, calmly waiting for his answer while listening to the faint rustle of movement on his end.

“Would it be weird if I asked to join you? Wait, no, I mean,” the slight panic in his voice makes you chuckle. He’s cute. “Can I take you out for lunch? Is what I wanted to ask,” he sighs, the relief obvious.

You bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from smiling like an idiot, briefly glancing at Jisoo. She already has one of her warm smiles on, cheering you on from the side. “Of course you can,” you nod. “That would be great, actually.”

“Okay, yeah,” he says, voice softening, calm. “What about the restaurant near the library? Yeonjun said that one is pretty good, if you’re okay with that.”

“Let’s go there,” you agree. There’s another pause, this one comfortable. “Okay,” he repeats, a bit awkward. “I’ll meet you there then?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll see you there.”

“You’re so sickening, it’s cute,” Jisoo shakes her head with a laugh. You roll your eyes at her but don’t argue. “I hope it works out for you, genuinely. Soobin is nice and we both know he’d go out of his way to take care of you.” You smile sheepishly, your cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, but I’m still worried to fuck it up,” you admit. “We are best friends, we’ve always been.”

“And that’s not going to change,” she assures you. “He’ll always be your best friend first, but if you’ll let him, I’m sure he’ll gladly take on the job of your boyfriend as well. You’re not going to ruin anything.”

You nod, taking in her words. She’s right, you know she is. Deep down you know that no matter what, there was nothing that could make you stop being friends with him, but you were scared nonetheless. You never hesitated when it came to relationships, believing that you were either meant to be or not and there was nothing you could do about it, but with Soobin, you didn’t want to risk the second option.

Jisoo seems to see right through you because she spends most of your lesson talking to you about how amazing Soobin is (as if you didn’t already know that) and how you were going to be even more inseparable as a couple, wishing you all the luck in the world. It seizes your worries, which you’re thankful to her for.

The restaurant is quiet to your surprise. You expected it to be messy during lunch hour but even though the place is full, it’s calm and cozy. Your eyes fall on your best friend as soon as you step inside, a smile creeping up your lips as you walk to the table for two. “Hi,” you greet him, taking a seat across from him. He smiles back at you, making your heart race faster. “Hey.”

“Did you already order something?” You ask, immediately regretting how awkward you sound. Was this how it was going to be with him from now on? “No. Waited for you,” he says, pretending to scan the menu. He doesn’t do too well because you catch his eyes on you, stealing glances as if you were still something he could only dream of.

“What is it?” You wonder, a smile spreading across your face. You feel like a fresh teen experiencing her first summer romance. Maybe that was what you and Soobin were supposed to be a long time ago—teenagers in love who no one believed would last but they pulled through anyway. You could imagine it. Sharing your first kiss with him, spending all those Christmases together as something more than just friends, going on a bunch of dates and thinking you could never be more in love.

“You’re pretty,” he says casually, watching as your cheeks turn pink under his words. “You don’t have to say things like that,” you shake your head even though you wish he would tell you a lot more. “I want to. I wanted to tell you so many times over the years but always held myself back. And now that I have the opportunity…I want to tell you as many times as I can.”

Yeah, Choi Soobin knew how to mess with your heart.

You feel hotter, knowing your ears must be red now as well. “You…” you swallow the rest of your sentence when your eyes lock with his, every word you’ve ever learnt disappearing from your brain. You were in trouble. You avert your eyes, ignoring the tingly feeling in your stomach and focusing on the menu on the table.

He doesn’t say anything else, his own heart playing games with him as silence settles over the two of you. He isn’t as secretive with his glances now but still tries to keep them low, not wanting to seem like a creep but unable to help himself. He watches you order, talk about an assignment for one of your classes and a new movie that just came out. He doesn’t hesitate asking you if you want to watch it with him tonight, and you don’t waver with your answer either, saying you’d love to do that.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize suddenly, making him raise his eyebrow in confusion as he sips on his coke. “What for?”

“Not seeing you sooner.” It hits like a dagger but he still shakes his head, setting the glass down. “That’s not something you can control.” You gaze down onto the table, rethinking your words. “I just… You’ve always been so good to me,” your eyes meet his and his heart shatters when he sees the regret and shame behind them. It wasn’t often that he’d see you be this vulnerable. Of course, there were moments in your life that were worse, and he was there for all of them, but knowing he was the reason for your feelings broke him more than rejection ever could.

“And I will continue being good to you,” he assures you before you can continue. “I can’t imagine the feeling of… why did you keep liking me? You’ve seen my worst, have been the target of my jokes and I’ve never even looked your way like that, it–”

“You’re smart, so incredibly smart you learned a new language when you were ten just because you wanted your dad to have the job he always wanted, despite the fact you missed your friends and hometown. You care about people and make them feel welcome around you, always doing your best to be nice to everyone unless they’ve done something. You’re confident, funny, talented, and absolutely beautiful,” he says without any hesitation, his words pure, full of sincerity, and it feels like he heals a part of you you didn’t know was broken. “But most importantly, you bring out the best of me. You make me come out of my shell, you help me when I’m lost, and you never for a second doubt me. I don’t think there’s a reason why I wouldn’t have fallen for you.”

Your grip tightens around your own glass of soda, his words ringing in your ears over and over again. You couldn’t recall a single time any of your exes would have said anything just remotely close to what he just did. He’s been there all along, so perfect and in love with you, and still, you managed to look through him.

His hand reaches for yours from across the table, giving it a gentle squeeze so you look up at him. When you do, there’s a smile on his face, the same one you’ve only seen him give you over the years—a smile meant just for you.

It’s the same smile that makes you realize the past isn’t what’s important right now. It’s the fact you’re here now, on a date with your best friend, finally seeing him. And you plan on making the most out of it.

Once you both finish eating, it’s only a matter of time before you leave. Soobin offers to pay for your meal and you let him, lacing your fingers with his as you step outside. You don’t need to say more, falling into a soft rhythm as you walk through campus hand in hand. It feels nice. And every little smile exchange makes you look forward to how this is going to continue.

“Come closer,” you urge, eyeing Soobin up and down as he sits down a full seat over on the couch. He turns his head to face you, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. Still, he listens, moving to sit right beside you, his arm draping around your shoulders when you lean to rest on his side. “What did I tell you? You don’t have to hold back,” you tilt your head slightly to look at him and he nods. “It’ll be better after a few days.”

It’s a quiet promise that makes you smile. You turn your attention back to the Tv as the first episode of jujutsu kaisen starts playing. After getting back home, you’ve all eaten dinner together and then Ryan disappeared off to his room with his nose basically pressed to his phone. You wanted to question him about it but before you could, Soobin’s hand gently rested around your waist and he asked if you wanted to watch the movie you mentioned earlier. You had no choice but to leave Ryan’s mysteries for another day.

Once the movie was over and half of the snacks you brought for it were eaten, Soobin begged you to rewatch jujutsu kaisen with him, claiming that it was life changing. You realized at that moment, you can’t say no to him.

So now, you were stuck by his side, watching a show about a teenager eating fingers instead of going to school.

“Megumi, obviously.”

He scoffs, glancing at the screen. “Megumi is the most boring character there is.” Your eyes widen. Now it’s you who is offended. “He’s my favorite,” there’s a small pout on your lips that makes Soobin close his mouth immediately, slowly regretting ever saying anything. “He reminds me of you.”

He opens his mouth before shutting it again, realizing there isn’t much to save the situation. Megumi really wasn’t his favorite, but what was he supposed to do when you said you liked him because he reminded you of him? “I’d rather you be Itadori then,” he mumbles.

Your eyes light up again, a winning smirk spread across your face. You move to lay on him again so you can continue watching, this time resting your head in his lap and occupying the rest of the couch with your legs. He blinks a few times, just watching you for a second before brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, carefully caressing your head and playing with your hair, slowly shifting his attention to the show playing.

He’s not sure when you manage to fall asleep but when he looks at you to ask about what you think of the fight scene happening, he sees your eyes closed and lips slightly parted, your breathing steady. He smiles, lowering the volume of the Tv before grabbing his phone and sending a quick text to Ryan, asking him to bring a blanket over since he can’t stand up right now.

“She fell asleep?” Ryan wonders as he comes out of his room, phone in one hand, the other carrying the blanket. Soobin turns his head to face him, nodding. “Yeah. Thanks, I would have gotten it myself but I don’t want to wake her up.”

“All good,” he shakes his head, lingering a little longer than probably necessary, eyeing the two of you on the couch, simply just happy that this is how you get to spend your evenings from now on. Soobin notices, raising his eyebrow confusedly. “Do you have a problem with anything?” His words come out harsher than expected, making Ryan’s eyes widen.

“Why would I have a problem with anything?”

“Don’t know. Maybe you’re jealous,” I would be. He doesn’t finish the sentence, he doesn’t need to because Ryan is already pressing a hand in front of his mouth in order to not wake you up with his laugh. “It looks like you’re the one being jealous,” he laughs, glancing from Soobin to your sleeping form again. He thinks of it as a joke, convinced there’s no way Soobin would actually think he’s being jealous over him, but as his eyes scan his expression, he figures that’s not the case.

“And you’re completely serious right now,” his eyes widening at the realization. “God, you think we have anything going on between us? I was the one who helped her figure out the possibility of being with you.”

Soobin doesn’t say anything, just watching him, observing. He doesn’t understand. Ryan was possibly the only other boy who’s seen parts of you you didn’t show to other people, the same parts he fell in love with. He saw you in your prettiest dress and even though Soobin was too gagged to look anywhere but on you, he just assumed Ryan looked at you the same way. Because to him, it was crazy that any boy wouldn’t want you.

Ryan hesitates for a second, rethinking the whole situation before sighing. “Really, there is absolutely nothing you have to worry about when it comes to us. There’s a better chance of Jisoo getting with her before I do.” Soobin’s expression doesn’t change and so he continues. “Remember my last date?” The question makes Soobin frown, unsure what that has to do with anything.

“I won’t,” Soobin assures him quickly when he catches the change in his tone of voice, his built up jealousy and insecurity slowly fading away as he realizes how incredibly wrong he’s been all along. Of course, that’s why you said it was complicated when he asked if there weren’t a bunch of girls who liked him. He feels stupid. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s…whatever,” he mumbles, suddenly awkward. He needs to get away as soon as possible. “If anything just…text me again, I guess.” Soobin opens his mouth to answer but before he can do so, Ryan is already on his way back to his room, not looking back again. Soobin sighs, running a hand through his hair as he looks down on you. “I’m an idiot, huh?” He mumbles, beginning to play with your hair gently again. “Petty, jealous, idiot.”

You hum in your sleep, shifting slightly which only makes him chuckle. “Looks like you agree.”

Your neck hurts when you stir awake. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, whining quietly. Blinking a few times, you get your eyes to focus again. They widen immediately when you see Soobin’s head resting against the back of the couch, sleeping. You turn to the side, the Tv turned off already and the coffee table just like you left it before falling asleep—full of half eaten snacks and empty bags. You slowly sit up, careful not to wake him up. He looks peaceful, his lips parted, a bit of saliva rolling down his chin. You chuckle. He’s cute.

You clean up the mess on the table, humming quietly to a song currently playing in your head. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep for but when you’re done with everything and check your phone, it’s already two am.

You come back to the couch, gently pressing your hand on Soobin’s shoulder. “Binnie,” you coo softly, watching him hum in his sleep as he shifts slightly. You smile, you never stop smiling when you’re with him. “You should sleep in your bed,” you say, hoping to wake him up. His eyes open for a second but you’re not sure if he even sees you because they close immediately after, his hand finding yours almost on an instinct. You yelp in surprise when he pulls you closer and you fall on to his lap. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you. You doubt if he even knows what he’s doing.

Or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing. That might be the better scenario.

“Soobin,” you coo again, kissing his cheek gently. “Let’s go to bed. This can’t be comfortable.” You kiss his nose, then forehead, gently squeezing his shoulder again. This time, it actually works and he opens his eyes, blinking a few times to make sense of the situation. “What’s going…” Before he can finish his question, you place another kiss on his forehead. “Let’s go to bed, it’s late.”

“Will you stay with me?” He asks, his voice a bit hoarse from the sleep. Your eyes widen in surprise, just for a second, before they soften. You cup his cheek, smiling. “Yeah. Yeah, I will,” you nod. His grip tightens around your waist, his head falling to your shoulder as he inhales your scent.

If this is how he gets every time he is sleepy, you hope he never gets the rest he deserves.

“Come on,” you get up, holding his hand as you force him up on his feet as well. His fingers lace with yours, following you tiredly as you guide the way to his room. He accidentally kicks the couch on his way but you don’t say anything, chuckling quietly.

“I’ll change to my pajamas and will be right back, okay?” You turn to him when you reach his room. He nods slowly, his hand falling back to his side. He opens the door, lingering for a second. “You’ll come, right?” You smile again, assuring him you will before leaving to your own room.

When you get to Soobin’s room again, he’s sitting on his bed in his pajamas. “Aren’t you tired?” You ask, closing the door behind you. He looks up, extending his arms towards you to come in. “Yeah, but I was waiting for you.” You close the gap between you, standing between his legs as his arms settle on your thighs, fingertips digging into your flesh. He looks up at you and your heart immediately skips a beat. “You’re pretty,” he mumbles, his hand carefully sliding up to the hem of your shorts. You blush at his words, “I didn’t know you were so needy when you’re tired,” you whisper, chuckling.

He hums, and when his hands move to your ass, you sit on his lap again, running a hand through his hair. “When I told you to be like this earlier you couldn’t even look me in the eyes,” you tease him and he just grumbles. “What is it, baby?”

“You’re here,” is all he says before kissing your jaw. “I don’t want to hold back when you’re right here.” His words echo in your ears and without a second of hesitation, you kiss him. He leans back with you, his arms resting on your waist as he lays down, his back pressed against the mattress. “Just for the night,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Let me want you a bit more.”

Your breath shakes as you grind on top of him, looking for any sign of discomfort. A soft, shaky whine escapes his lips and his grip tightens. “Is this okay?” He nods, his eyes closed, refusing to look at you. “Soobin,” you whisper, feeling him harden under you as you grind once more. “Look at me.”

His eyes flutter open, scanning your face carefully before his gaze drops to where your bodies meet. “Is this okay?” You ask once more, this time getting a proper response. “More than okay,” he assures you, watching you move on top of him. His breathing is anything but steady, his eyes glued to your body as if you’d disappear if he even just as blinked. “I don’t–” his voice breaks in half when you sit directly on his tip, your shorts clinging to your body as you rub yourself on top of him. “I’m not sure what to do.”

“It’s okay,” you nod, understanding. “You don’t have to do anything. Let’s just feel good, hm?” He nods, his hands carefully sliding up your thighs. He can do that. He can stop overthinking it and just enjoy the moment, as long as he’s with you.

His hands slowly wander under your shirt, keeping his eyes on you to check if he’s not overstepping as he cups your breast. You bite your bottom lip, nodding slightly to him. You let him squeeze your breast, let him explore what his touch does to you. He watches every reaction, every muffled moan that leaves your lips, and every move of your hips. You never stop rubbing yourself on him and with each passing second, he feels like he is about to explode.

Leaning down again, you crash your lips with his in a hungry kiss. He doesn’t hesitate kissing you back and pulling you closer, if that’s even possible. He thrusts his hips up on instinct, a soft whimper escaping his lips. “Wai– Wait, fuck,” he curses, looking at his wet pants and your shorts. Mistake, he realizes. Seeing the mess you managed to create already only makes it harder for him not to cum in his pants.

You slide your hand under his shirt, tracing the line of his abs slowly before moving down to his waistband, glancing up at him for approval. “Please,” he nods, prompting himself up on his elbows as he watches you. You move aside, biting your bottom lip as you give his hard on a squeeze through the pants before pulling them down. Fuck. Soobin was tall, you knew that, of course, but you didn’t expect him to be packing down there so much as well.

“Have you thought about me before? While jerking off?” You watch his ears turn red, figuring that’s a yes. You squeeze your thighs together, eyes flickering between his cock, abs, and face. In the ideal world, you could ride all of them. “Want to show me?”

Soobin sits with his eyes glued to your body, his right hand wrapped around his cock, moving up and down in slow motion. You sit opposite him, your legs spread apart, pajama clothes somewhere on the floor, long forgotten by then, and your chest on full display. “What else did you think about?” You ask, watching his eyes scan your naked body.

His eyes fall down to your fingers on your clit, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I– Your boobs,” he admits slowly, avoiding looking you in the eyes from embarrassment. “Kissing them, holding them, uhm,” he bites down his moan as the image clouds his mind, his cock twitching in his hand and breath shaking. “About how you’d look if…if we were…”

“Yeah?” You can see that he’s close to finishing, barely able to speak without moaning or whimpering. It was hot.

“My imagination has nothing on reality,” he mumbles, curses slipping past his lips as he watches you finger yourself, his hips thrusting into his hand with more force than before. You smirk, “that good?” He nods, opening his mouth to say something, but before he can do so, you pull out your fingers and bring them to his mouth.

He knows he should feel embarrassed. He probably looks like a teenage boy who’s never touched a woman in his life—which he wouldn’t be far from actually—when he reaches his orgasm as soon as his lips wrap around your fingers, but he can’t seem to care. Not when you taste this good, not when you’re looking at him as if it was the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen.

“Can I..?” He asks with the biggest puppy eyes possible and even though you don’t know what he’s asking for, you nod. He moves closer to you, spreading your legs more before his hand caresses your thighs, slowly making his way to your core. His fingers replace yours, rubbing your clit the same way he watched you do so moments ago. You moan under his touch, guiding his hand lower and giving him a reassuring nod before he inserts two of his fingers into your hole. His fingers are longer than yours, without a doubt, and it shows. “Just like that, fuck, exactly there,” your eyes roll back when he hits your spot, listening to your moans as he pumps his fingers into you.

Soobin closes the distance between you, his free hand cupping your cheek as he kisses you again while his other hand brings you to your orgasm, muffling every one of your moans with his lips. “Was that okay?” He asks, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You giggle, your breathing heavy as you press your forehead to his. “You’re doing amazing,” you nod. “Absolutely fucking amazing.”

He giggles with you, exhaling in relief. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and kisses you again, this time with less need but much more affection, hoping you can feel all the years he’s spent loving you from afar coming up on the surface.

The following days became easier. You watched the nervousness and wariness in his eyes slowly change into something comfortable and familiar. He stopped being so hesitant, greeting you with a kiss every morning as if you were an old couple, holding your hand when you walked around campus, and taking you out on dates any chance he got. It was nice, and you could feel your heart skipping a beat every time his gaze lingered on you even a second longer than necessary.

You could see yourself growing old with those eyes.

“What are you hiding?” Soobin comes into the kitchen just as you’re leaning over the counter, a teasing grin on your face and Ryan a few steps beside you, smiling at his phone. He could recognize that smile from miles away, it was the same one he had for years on his face when he talked to you.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he says, way too quickly to your liking. “You’re trying to see things where they’re not.”

“What’s going on?” Soobin asks, wrapping his arm around your waist. You straighten your back and he immediately rests his head on your shoulder, watching Ryan with a spark of curiosity. His eyes flicker between the two of you, hating that it was so easy for you to see right through him. “Nothing’s going on, alright? Can’t I text people?”

You frown. “I never said you can’t. But you’ve been texting someone for ages and it makes me wonder why you haven’t told me anything about it.” Soobin can almost hear the pout in your voice and places a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Because I told you I’m not dating again. It’s just a friend, and I don’t see a reason why I should tell you I have a new friend.”

“You don’t have to close yourself off for everyone because one date didn’t go right,” Soobin meets his eyes and Ryan swallows everything he wanted to say when he hits a soft spot. This was nowhere close to how he wanted his evening to look like. “Didn’t you say you were going to stream tonight?” The question comes out harsher than intended but before he can apologize, Soobin nods slightly. “Yeah, I am,” he agrees, giving Ryan one last look of sympathy before turning to you. “Want to join me?”

You blink, glancing between your two roommates. You want to stay, ask Ryan more and assure him that whatever he set his mind on is stupid, but you can see how tired he is of this conversation. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore and you know when to stop minding other people’s business, even if they’re your best friend. “Yeah, sure, let’s go,” you nod. Soobin catches the sigh that leaves your lips but doesn’t comment on it, lacing his fingers with yours instead and leading you to his room.

“You can’t be mad at him for keeping in,” Soobin says, sitting down on his gaming chair and extending his arms for you to come in. You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you stand between his legs. “I know, and I’m not. I just… I don’t want him to deal with everything on his own.” His hands slide up the back of your thighs, a pitiful smile on his lips.

“I’ll talk to him later, okay? Maybe he’ll tell me something,” he offers, bringing your hand to his face and kissing your knuckles. “Don’t beat yourself over it. He’ll tell you about it when he’s ready.”

You nod, sitting on his lap with your hands on his shoulder. “Have I told you you’re absolutely amazing yet?” He chuckles, closing the space between you and pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. “You can tell me that as many times you want,” he smiles into the kiss, a soft giggle escaping your lips.

“What’s the plan tonight?” You wonder when you pull back. He turns on the chair, his arm wrapped around your waist as he turns his PC on. When he types in his password and you notice it being your birthday, you can’t help but smile, your cheeks turning pink as you lean into his chest. “Phasmophobia,” he says, showing you the game. You watch his screen as he explains some of the rules of the game with the gameplay, nodding quietly. You let him talk, listening to his every word. It’s honestly attractive. It’s not like he’s doing much, but it’s enough.

“Yeonjun hasn’t played it yet and we were thinking of texting Kai to join us but if you want, we can connect your laptop and you could play with us instead?” He turns his head to you, his face mare inches away from yours. You blink, shaking your head, “you said you haven’t played with Kai in a long time, you shouldn’t exclude him just because of me.”

“I want to play with you,” he states firmly. “You should know by now I’d choose you over the boys any time.” If you were blushing before, you must look like a tomato right now. Before he can say anything else and send you into a spiral, you kiss him again, your hand on his neck as you pull him close. He doesn’t take long to catch up, pushing his tongue between your lips and deepening the kiss, his fingers digging into your waist. “You’re too good to me,” you whisper.

“You’re the one too good to me. I’m just treating you as anyone you’ve ever given a chance to should have.”

“You should be a poet instead,” you mumble, averting your gaze from him. You know he’s about to say something more, but he’s interrupted by an incoming call on discord, the screen flashing with The Choi’s group chat. Thank God, honestly. Whatever he wanted to say would probably make your heart race faster than it already does and you don’t need a heart attack right now.

You accept the call, the first thing you hear being Beomgyu’s grumble. “We’ll have to use walkie talkies in the game, why are we starting a call here?” Soobin chuckles quietly, leaning forward and resting his chin on your shoulder, clicking through something on his screen. “He’s new to the game, cut him some slack,” he says and you catch a faint curse on the other side, assuming it must be from Yeonjun.

“Whatever, who cares. Is everyone ready now? Can I text Kai? He might be asleep though, he said something about pulling an all-nighter the night before and feeling like passing out when I talked to him earlier.” As soon as Yeonjun finishes his question, Soobin turns his head to look at you again, looking for an answer in your eyes. You nod slightly, his smile widening immediately.

“Don’t bother. I have our fourth player. She’s sitting on my lap as we speak.”

It wasn’t a secret to any of your friends that you and Soobin were something now. Apparently, they knew so even before you did. Soobin looked terrified when Beomgyu told you a few days ago that he’s glad he finally had the balls to ask you out because it was getting annoying having to listen to him enthuse about how in love with you he was. All you could do at the moment was laugh. Then, after Beomgyu left, you showered Soobin in kisses on his bed and he promised to tell you how in love he is more often if that’s what he gets in return. He was adorable.

The two boys greet you immediately, asking about how your day was and if Soobin is being annoying. It makes you chuckle because he is anything but. You talk with them for a bit, Soobin’s hands still wrapped around you and hugging you tightly. You love moments like these.

You’re not sure how much time passes but eventually, you leave to get your laptop while Soobin prepares his stream, his camera and microphone already on when you come back. You place the laptop on his bed—which is also the place you agreed on sitting before even though it wasn’t exactly ideal to be in the same room while using walkie talkies—and join his side, greeting his chat with a smile.

In the blink of an eye, the comments change from simple hello’s and questions about what the plane for today is into more personal ones—mostly about your relationship. A few people ask about your name, new fans you assume, but most of the people are asking if the rumors are true and you truly are dating. It was kind of obvious by now. Just a few days earlier, Soobin made a new post on his instagram with pictures from an actual date you had. They were cute, and made it into your highlights as well.

He turns his head to you, not answering any of their questions. A sign of the same vulnerability you saw almost every day at the beginning flickers in his eyes, the question hanging in the air. You know which one made him like this. Are you two dating? You haven’t put a label on anything, didn’t think it was needed, but when your eyes meet his, and you see the hope in them, you want a label more than ever before.

You smile, a gentle, soft one that always makes him calmer and turn towards the camera. “You got us,” you nod. “We are dating. But no, he does not fall into the streamer stereotypes and does shower every day, so I’m not in any danger,” you laugh, briefly glancing at Soobin. He looks puzzled, but his expression lasts less than a second, immediately being replaced with excitement and a hint of relief.

“Wouldn’t want to stink near my beautiful girlfriend,” he grins and you have to roll your eyes at how cheeky he sounds. You shake your head at him, but the smile on your face never disappears. “Get your game ready, pretty boy. I don’t have the whole night for you.” He cocks his head to you, a teasing smirk on his face as he mouths “you sure?” at you. You fight the urge to throw a pillow at him.

“What on Earth are they doing?” You laugh, watching Beomgyu and Yeonjun move their characters in the lobby, getting into some weird positions they definitely wouldn’t be able to recreate in real life. Soobin laughs with you, shaking his head. He was playing around with settings now, trying to convince you to go on pro mode. Neither Yeonjun nor you knew if that was something you wanted to jump into but thankfully (or possibly unfortunately) you had Beomgyu on your side, arguing with Soobin immediately that you weren’t ready and it would end up with him being alive alone again.

“Everyone get ready,” Soobin commands, your earlier laugh replaced with a chuckle immediately. “Yes, captain,” you joke, and even though you see him rolling his eyes, you also notice the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

Soobin helps you out during the game a lot, always walking around beside you so you don’t stay anywhere alone and don’t get yourself killed, reminding you what certain keys do, and working with you on figuring out what kind of a ghost you’re dealing with. Anyone new joining his stream probably doesn’t even know Beomgyu and Yeonjun are in the game as well. You barely know of their presence yourself.

After three successful rounds, Soobin finally convinced you to play on pro mode, still staying by your side as he ran around, trying to figure out the ghost’s spawn place. Yeonjun walked right behind you, holding a camera in his hands while Beomgyu stayed in the van, laughing his ass off as he watched you through Yeonjun’s camera. It slowly turned into Soobin continuously telling him to do something and him arguing that you had it all covered already. It had Soobin grumbling and his chat laughing.

You played for two hours and half until Beomgyu had to leave—a date as Soobin informed you earlier—and you all decided to call it a day. You stretch out on the bed, pushing the heating laptop off your legs. Soobin leans back in his chair once his computer is turned off, turning to face you. “Had fun tonight?”

You smile, nodding. You open your arms and he doesn’t hesitate getting up from his place and making his way over to you, plopping down on top of you. You giggle, bringing him down to kiss him. “So much fun,” you answer, wrapping your arms behind his neck.

“You were so pretty,” he praises, placing a soft kiss to your nose. “I wanted to kiss you every time you gave me that clueless pout,” he whispers, this time leaving a kiss on your cheek. You giggle, cupping his cheeks and making him look at you. “Kiss me twice as much now then.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, already claiming your lips. He wraps his hands behind your back, keeping you as close as possible until he decides to change positions, his lips never leaving yours as he sits down and helps you onto his lap. His hand moves up to your neck, thumb brushing your cheek as he deepens the kiss. He could go like this all day if he could.

You run a hand through his hair, forcing him to pull back when you tug at a few of his strands. He groans, eyes meeting yours. You bite back a moan yourself when you look at him, every sane thought you had until now disappearing out of the window when he looks up at you like that. “Love,” he whispers, his hands trailing down your sides until he makes it under your shirt. “Yes, baby?” You smile innocently, pretending that his touch doesn’t send shivers throughout your whole body.

“You’re beautiful.” You learnt to accept his compliments after some time (because you’re not sure if there has been a day in which he wouldn’t compliment you in some way) but they still worked on you every time, making you blush. His hands move to your back again, unclipping your bra with ease. You help him get your shirt off, your bra following right after. He smiles, one of his hands cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other settles on your waist. You can’t even blink before his mouth meets your other boob, his tongue circling your nipple.

You run your hand through his hair again, a soft whine escaping your lips as you grind on him from the pleasure. He glances at you briefly, and when he sees your eyes closed, the moans that leave your lips showing him just how much you’re enjoying yourself, he sucks harder, taking his sweet time with each of your breasts.

“Baby,” you whine, rolling your hips against his. He finally pulls away, meeting your eyes with a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Please.”

Your back presses against the mattress, your boyfriend hovering on top of you and kissing his way down your body. Once his mouth reaches your pants, he tugs them down slowly, kissing your inner thigh. You open your legs for him without hesitation, causing a groan to leave his lips. He settles himself between your legs, kissing his way up from your thigh to your clit. “Just a small taste,” he begs, sucking on your clit the same way he sucked on your nipple moments ago.

It’s been days of exploring each other’s bodies, finding out what pleasures the other and what doesn’t. It took some time, but he’d like to say he knows how to get you off without any problems now, one of those things being your newly discovered obsession with riding his nose.

And what kind of a boyfriend would he be if he didn’t give you the opportunity to do so?

Soobin presses his nose against your clit, his tongue pushing past your folds. Your moans fill the room shortly after, even if you try to keep it down so as not to disturb your roommate, gripping the sheets on your side. You roll your hips against him, your eyes rolling back when his tongue enters your hole. As if that wasn’t enough on its own, his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you where he wants so he controls all of your pleasure.

“Wa–Wait,” you gasp, your orgasm building in your stomach faster than you can comprehend. He simply hums against you, not bothering with looking up as he licks you. “So pretty,” he mumbles again, sucking on your clit. You gasp, finding his hair with your fingers and trying to tug him away from you, your legs closing simultaneously.

Fortunately, he only pulls back once you reach your orgasm, finishing on his mouth. He licks his lips clean, smiling. “You,” your breath catches and you’re not even sure what you want to say. Did so fucking good? Were absolutely amazing? Take better care of me than anyone else?

“It’s okay,” he coos, coming up to kiss you. He brushes your hair from your face gently, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You can do one more, right?” You don’t answer, you can’t. All you can think about is, where did you even learn all that?

But you know the answer. From you. Everything he knows, he’s learnt from you, because he wanted to. He learnt how to talk, when the right time to kiss you is, where to press at times, and how to be a good mix of someone who could—and wanted—to please you, and the same person he was before who didn’t even know a handful of positions.

His thumb gently circles your clit, causing a few whines to leave your lips. He keeps his eyes on you, waiting for your answer. Even though you told him before it was okay to overstimulate you sometimes, he didn’t need to do so. He was glad he could make you feel good, even if it means having to take care of his throbbing cock alone in the bathroom.

But you wouldn’t let that happen, slowly nodding. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “I can take one more.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips before getting his clothes off, too busy admiring your naked body to look where they ended up after he threw them to the floor.

Soobin rubs his cock between your folds, his eyes glued to your body. “Wanna go raw?” you offer and his eyes immediately widen. He has condoms, somewhere in his top drawer of his desk, but at the moment, he completely forgot about something like protection, his mind too occupied with different thoughts. “Can I?” He looks up and you smile, nodding.

“Fuck,” he curses, aligning himself slowly. He looks up once more for reassurance and when you chuckle, telling him it’s okay, he thrusts his tip in, giving you some time to adjust before he slaps his hips with yours. You gasp immediately, your moans coming out broken as he starts moving.

Soobin’s soft praises mixed with his groans fill your ears, your eyes rolling back as his fingers lace with yours and he slows down again, hitting just the right spot. At that moment, even though your head is empty, one singular thought manages to pop up. I love you, Soobin.

You don’t say anything though, holding his hand with your mouth wide open and head thrown back. Yeah, he is good.

His thrusts turn sloppy, his energy slowly dying out as he reaches his climax. You came just seconds ago with his name falling from your lips as if you were a broken record and now it was finally his turn. You wrap your legs behind his back, keeping him in place and making sure he doesn’t even think about pulling out. You need to feel him filling you up, showing you you’re his. And he’ll gladly do so.

“Shit,” he gasps, squeezing your hand tighter as he finishes, his eyes wide. “Fuck– That was so good.” You giggle, relaxing your legs again and trying to catch your breath. He curses again when he pulls out of you and hears you whine, fighting himself not to get hard again. He lays down beside you, dropping his arm around your stomach and pulling you flush against his body.

“I love you,” he mumbles, just like he has many times before. But this time, it’s different after all. Because this time, you can say it back.

“I love you too, baby,” you whisper, sealing the words with a kiss.

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