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[lovelee-evan]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. — heeseung lee oneshot.

summary. You spend your 20s exactly how you planned it to be—fun, fearless, and unattached. Until your mom introduces you to her old high school friend’s son, who looks exactly like the man you spent one reckless night in another city convincing yourself you’d never see again.

pairing. heeseung x fem!reader

content / warnings. one night stand (flashback, brief), producer!hee, unemployed!reader, the moms are in this, one mention of jungwon, maeumi, nicknames!, protected p in v, oral (fem rec.), fingering, riding, nipple play, lmk if i miss anything xx

w.c. 14k

JUNE 2025

“My head’s throbbing.”

You mutter as you drive to your parents house. Your mom mentioned about inviting her old friend over, who lived across the country, in another city saying something about her staying over for a few days.

You sigh at the thought, blaming the pounding in your skull on last night’s cocktails with your girl friends and the tiny hairs still sticking to your damp shirt from a morning shower. You’re not ready for polite family small talk, questions about your job or relationship—or the endless commentary about how “you should really be settling down.”

You pull over your parents’ street, already noticing a whole luggage outside the house.

“Seems like she’s here.” You mutter to yourself, as you got out the car, quickly looking at the mirror to make yourself presentable, and totally not hangover.

Grabbing your bag, you try to summon your most convincing “I’m totally together” expression. If your mom’s friend was anything like she described, this was going to be a lot of chatter, a lot of smiles, and probably a few pointed questions about your love life that you weren’t ready to answer.

You knock on the door. “I’m home!” you annouce, and almost immediately, you hear your mom’s footsteps scampering over to open it. You chuckle at her cuteness—always so excited to see you, even when you barely had your life together.

“Finally!” she exclaimes, practically dragging you inside. “You’re just in time—she’s already here!”

You groan inwardly, bracing yourself for endless small talk and awkward introductions, but couldn’t help smiling at your mom’s enthusiasm.

When you came inside the house, in the living room, a middle-aged lady—seemingly the same age as your mom—sits on the couch, her posture polite but relaxed. She looks around with a warm smile that could make anyone feel immediately welcome, though your hungover brain mostly registered her as an interruption to your carefully curated morning recovery.

“She must be Mrs. Lee,” you say, glancing at your mom, who was practically glowing with excitement. You couldn’t help but grin despite yourself—your mom always had a way of lighting up a room, and apparently, it was contagious.

“Oh, my, she had grown up to be such a fine young lady!” Mrs. Lee greets with a smile, hugging you warmly.

You return the hug with a polite squeeze, your head still pounding from last night and your brain screaming too early for this kind of energy. “Thank you,” you mutter, secretly hoping your slightly messy hair and damp shirt weren’t too obvious.

“I’ve been telling her so much about you!” your mom chimes in, practically beaming. “All good things, of course.”

You smile faintly, wondering exactly how much she had told her friend about your chaotic, fun-filled nights out with friends—and mentally prepare yourself for a gentle roasting session disguised as small talk.

But Mrs. Lee just look at you softly, a motherly smile plastered on her face, as if she could see right through all the bravado you were trying to put on. It was the kind of smile that made you feel both warm and a little… exposed.

“What about your boy, Lee?” Your mom asks and Mrs. Lee claps her hands as if remembering a completely important detail.

“Right, right!” She laughs. “I told him to buy us some fruits at the supermarket! We can’t stay here and come empty-handed.” She smiles, in which your mom joking hits her arm. “What a hassle! But, thank you anyway,”

Mrs. Lee looks over to you. “I feel like you and my son could be such good friends too!” She grins, in which you awkwardly smile.

Great.

Another one of your mom’s friends trying to set you up with their good-for-nothing sons.

“Honey, help her get her luggage inside!” Your mom says, walking to the kitchen, already arms in arms with Mrs. Lee. You nod before walking towards the entrance.

That’s when you heard a car pull up outside.

The sound of tires against the pavement cut through the room, followed by the soft thud of a door closing. Your mom glanced toward the window almost instinctively, her face lighting up even more than before.

“Oh, perfect timing,” you can hear Mrs. Lee’s voice from inside. “That must be Heeseung!”

You decide to pay no mind to it, as you walked over to carry her luggage.

“Shit, what does she pack in here?”

“Clothes enough for two weeks.” A voice answers your little mutter to yourself.

A familiar one—deep, oh so soft, and far too recognizable—making your breath hitch as you stand straight.

“Do you feel good? Am I making you feel good?”

“Let go for me, baby.”

Your mind suddenly betrayed you, replaying the words spoken in that same voice two months ago—back when you’d been careless, impulsive, and not so smart.

Heat rushed to your face as the memory collided with this current moment. You turn to look and there he was, still wearing the soft eyes you had been so enchanted by that night.

Evan. Evan Lee. At least that’s what he introduced himself as.

The same eyes that had studied you under dim hotel lights now widened, just barely, before masking it with something polite and unreadable.

Mrs. Lee came out before you could even say anything, her voice bright and proud as she introduced you. You barely registered the words, too focused on the way he straightened beside her.

He nodded, polite and distant, the kind of courtesy reserved for strangers. “Nice to meet you,” he said smoothly, without a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

Then he smiled—easy, effortless—before turning to follow his mom into the house. He picked up her luggage, handling it with practiced care as he walked past you, close enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne.

He didn’t even glance back.

So he didn’t remember.

You had both been drunk that night, after all.

…

Dinner is already laid out by the time everyone gathers around the dining table a few hours later. The familiar smell of your mom’s cooking fills the room—warm, comforting, painfully normal for a moment that feels anything but.

You take a seat near the edge of the table, choosing distance over comfort. Across from you, Heeseung pulls out his chair and sits down smoothly, posture relaxed, expression polite. To anyone else, he’s just a guest—your mom’s friend’s son, well-mannered and quiet.

To you, he’s the man whose voice still lingers in the back of your mind—whose hands had memorized you in the dark, whose lips had left impressions you were foolish enough to think time would erase.

Conversation flows easily between your mom and Mrs. Lee, laughter spilling over shared memories from high school, old teachers, stories you’ve heard a hundred times before. You nod at the right moments, pushing food around your plate, forcing yourself to eat despite the tight knot in your stomach.

“So, Heeseung,” your mom says brightly, turning to him, “Are you okay with the spare room? Her brother hasn’t been home since his marriage, and she doesn’t want to give her childhood room for guests,” Your mom turns to you and snickers.

“That’s because I visit you and dad all the time, I still need a room here.” You groan softly, while Mrs. Lee laughs.

“Yes, ma’am. The room is just nice. Very well-kept.” Heeseung smiles at her.

“Well, that’s good,” she continues. “By the way, you two are around the same age. You should show him around a bit, don’t you think? This isn’t a city he always comes by.”

Your grip tightens around your utensils.

Before you can answer, Heeseung looks up—briefly, carefully—meeting your eyes for the first time since earlier. There’s no recognition on his face. No spark. Just polite interest.

“If she’s free,” he says simply.

If you’re free.

You force a smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”

The lie settles between you, heavy and unspoken.

Under the table, his foot shifts slightly—close enough to make your breath hitch, close enough to make you wonder if it’s accidental. He still doesn’t look at you. Still doesn’t acknowledge the past.

But your body remembers a different name.

And for the first time since he walked past you without a second glance, you realize something unsettling.

Heeseung might not remember you.

But Evan would have.

After dinner, the house settles into silence faster than you expect.

Laughter fades. Doors close softly. The hallway light dims until only a thin strip glows beneath bedroom doors. You lie awake longer than you should, staring at the ceiling you’ve known your whole life, listening to the unfamiliar rhythm of another presence in the house.

You tell yourself it’s nothing.

Just an old insignificant memory overstaying its welcome.

Eventually, thirst wins.

You slip out of bed, careful not to let the floorboards creak, padding your way toward the kitchen. The house smells faintly of detergent and leftover dinner, comforting in a way that almost makes you forget why your chest feels tight.

Almost.

The kitchen light is already on.

You freeze in the doorway.

Heeseung stands by the counter, sleeves rolled up, a glass of water in his hand. His hair is slightly tousled now, stripped of the careful neatness he wore earlier. He looks… different. More real. More like the man you left sleeping behind hotel curtains two months ago.

He looks up when he hears you.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake anyone.”

“You didn’t,” you reply, voice steadier than you feel. “I just—couldn’t sleep.”

He nods, accepting that without question. No tension. No recognition. Or maybe too much control to show either.

You grab a glass from the cupboard, deliberately choosing the one farthest from him. The tap runs. Too loud in the silence. You focus on the sound, on anything but the awareness of him standing only a few feet away.

“Your mom’s cooking was really good,” he says after a moment. “She didn’t exaggerate.”

You let out a small breath of a laugh. “Her cooking is the best.”

A pause.

Then, softer, almost absent-minded: “You mentioned earlier you don’t live here?”

“Not anymore,” you answer. “I moved to my own apartment a year ago.”

“Oh,” he says.

The word hangs between you.

You take a sip of water, finally glancing at him. He isn’t looking at you—his attention fixed on the counter, jaw relaxed, expression unreadable. If he remembers, he gives nothing away. If he doesn’t, then this ease is genuine.

You hate that you can’t tell which one hurts more.

“Well,” you murmur, setting the glass down. “Good night.”

He looks up then, meeting your eyes fully for the first time since dinner.

“Good night,” he says.

Still nothing. No crack in his voice. No hesitation. Just calm, polite distance.

You walk past him toward the hallway, careful not to brush his arm, careful not to slow your steps. Behind you, you hear him turn off the light.

In the darkness of your room, you lie awake again—heart louder now, thoughts sharper.

You were the one who left that morning.

You were the one who chose silence.

And yet somehow, standing in your parent’s kitchen, it feels like he’s the one holding all the control.

…

Morning comes too soon.

Sunlight filters through the curtains, thin and pale, landing across your face like an accusation. For a moment, you forget where you are—until the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen reminds you that you’re back in your parents’ house. And that you aren’t alone.

You sit up slowly, rubbing at your temples. The night had offered no answers. Just silence, politeness, and the unbearable calm of not knowing.

By the time you make it to the kitchen, your mom is already bustling around, apron tied, hair pulled back. Mrs. Lee sits at the table, sipping tea, looking far too refreshed for someone who traveled across the country.

“Morning,” your mom chirps when she sees you. “Perfect timing.”

You hum in response, reaching for a glass of water.

“Could you help Mrs. Yang walk her dog later?” she continues casually. “You remember—next door. You used to do it all the time when you lived here. Besides, little Jungwon is in Uni now, so no one is there to help her.”

You pause.

“Maeum? Yeah,” you say. “I can do that.”

Mrs. Lee’s face lights up. “Walking outside right now would be so refreshing,” she says warmly. Then, almost as an afterthought, she turns toward the hallway. “Heeseung!”

Your stomach tightens at the sound of his name.

He appears a moment later, sleeves rolled up again, hair still slightly damp like he’s just washed his face. He looks… awake. Calm. Completely unaffected. “Hm?”

“You should go with her,” Mrs. Lee says easily. “It’ll be good for you to get some fresh air after traveling.”

Heeseung blinks once, then nods. “Sure.”

Sure.

Your mom smiles, clearly pleased. “Perfect! Two birds with one stone.” You force a smile of your own, even as your pulse starts to pick up. “Yeah. No problem.”

Heeseung glances at you—not searching, not curious. Just attentive.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says.

As you step outside together a few minutes later, the morning air feels too crisp, too quiet. The street looks the same as it always has. Familiar. Safe.

And yet, walking side by side with him, you’re painfully aware of the space between you—and how little it would take to close it.

You’re the one who left. It’s a one-night stand.

You remind yourself of that as you head toward the neighbor’s gate.

So why does it feel like this walk might be the first step toward something you can’t walk away from again.

Heeseung kneels slightly as Maeum charges toward him, tail wagging like it could knock him over.

“He’s… lively,” he says, keeping his voice casual as Maeum circles him, sniffing, then jumping up in excitement. A low chuckle escapes him, and you feel your chest tighten unexpectedly.

“Yeah, Maeum’s a handful,” you reply, gripping the leash before he decides to chase a squirrel or something worse. “But he’s harmless… mostly.”

Heeseung brushes a hand along Maeum’s back. “Mostly is good.”

Maeum barks happily, spinning between the two of you. There’s a brief moment where the dog seems to notice the tension radiating off both of you, but of course, he can’t name it.

“Shall we get going?” you ask, starting toward the sidewalk.

Heeseung falls into step beside you, careful not to crowd, careful not to overstep. Close enough to notice the little things: the way you tense when Maeum yanks, the faint crease in your brow, the subtle sway of your hair in the morning sun.

The street is quiet. Early birds call from the trees. Leaves rustle under your shoes. Maeum dashes ahead, then back, sniffing everything in sight.

“So…” you begin, trying to sound casual, “long drive yesterday?”

He shrugs. “Enough to make me remember why I prefer flights.”

You laugh softly. “Fair enough. It is kind of chaos on the road here sometimes.”

Silence falls for a few steps, filled only with Maeum’s padding and your own heartbeat.

Then Maeum stops abruptly, sniffing at a patch of grass right between you and Heeseung. The leash jerks. You stumble forward slightly, and his hand reaches out before you can think, steadying you.

Fingertips brush.

A fleeting touch—but it’s enough. Enough to spark memory, enough to make your stomach twist.

Heeseung doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t say a word. He takes Maeum’s leash and keeps walking.

And that’s the worst part.

Because whether he remembers—or is pretending—you have no idea.

And it leaves the quiet hanging between you like a question that refuses to be answered.

Maeum slows near the corner, distracted by something only he seems to find interesting. You stop with him, shifting your weight as you wait.

Your fingers curl in on themselves without you noticing.

A slow fist.

Tight enough that your nails press into your palm.

Heeseung’s gaze drops.

Not immediately. Not obviously.

But it lingers just long enough.

“You do that often,” he says.

You look up. “Do what?”

He nods toward your hand. “That.”

You follow his eyes, startled, and force your fingers open. Faint crescent marks bloom red against your skin.

“Oh,” you say lightly. “I guess I clench my hand when I’m waiting.”

“Or when you’re holding back,” he replies, tone even. Too even.

The street feels quieter suddenly.

You laugh, trying to brush it off. “You’re very observant.” He doesn’t smile. Not quite.

“Hard not to notice,” he says.

And just like that—

Your mind betrays you.

Dim light. Your back against unfamiliar sheets.

His voice low, close, asking something you can’t quite remember the words to—only the way your hand had curled then too, nails biting into your palm as you nodded instead of answering.

You remember looking down afterward.

The half-moon marks.

The way he’d gently pried your fingers open, thumb brushing over the indents like he was committing them to memory.

The leash tugs.

You blink, pulled back into the morning air, the quiet street, Maeum wagging his tail impatiently.

Heeseung is already looking ahead again, expression unreadable.

“You good?” he asks, as if nothing had happened.

You nod, heart racing, and start walking again.

But your palm still tingles.

Both of you continue walking with Maeum tugging on his leash once in a while, before stopping infront of a convenient store near the park.

“I’ll buy us drinks, anything you like?” He asks. You look at him as you shake your head. “Anything’s fine.”

He nods, entering the store while you wait outside while Maeum settles at your feet. Through the glass, you watch him move with easy familiarity— scanning the shelves without hesitation.

He came out a few minutes later with two drinks in his hand. Americano for him, and another for you.

Green Grape Ade.

“Green Grape Ade?” His voice rings in the loud bar music, looking at you with precise judgement, while you mockingly glare at him.

“What’s wrong with it?” You ask, voice slightly loud trying to drown out the music at the bar. He smiles.

“You’re original.” He clinks his glass againts yours, the ice chiming softly over the music.

“I just prefer sour drinks. Especially from the convenient store.” You drink as your gaze turn to him. He’s already staring at you.

He hums. “That’s why your face so sour?” He teases in which you gasp, mock-offense.

He laughs, before shaking his head. “That was a lie. You might just be the sweetest girl I’ve ever met.”

The memory fades as quickly as it came.

You’re back outside the convenience store, the morning air cool against your skin. The bottle in your hand is cold, condensation slick against your fingers.

Heeseung is already walking ahead with Maeum, Americano in hand, posture relaxed like he hasn’t just reached into something you never gave him permission to keep.

You take a sip. It tastes exactly how you like it. How you were imagining it when you were admant on telling Heeseung or Evan it was your favourite at the bar.

And for the first time since you woke up that morning, you wonder if leaving first had really meant leaving anything behind at all.

You catch up to them, glancing at Heeseung. He has a questionable smug look on his face.

“What?” You ask. He shrugs before looking at you.

“I have a lot of things I remember about you.”

…

A few hours pass.

The afternoon drifts by slowly, measured in the ticking of the clock and the occasional sound of movement elsewhere in the house. You spend most of it in your room, half-lying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone without really reading anything.

Every so often, you hear his voice. Muted through the walls. Calm. Easy. Laughing lightly at something your mom says.

It shouldn’t bother you, but it does.

When hunger finally wins over avoidance, the sun is already dipping lower in the sky. The house smells faintly of reheated food, warm and familiar. You take a breath before leaving your room, practicing a neutral expression in the mirror.

The kitchen is quieter now. You’re just about to turn the corner toward the kitchen when you hear your mom speak.

“…She’s been a little off today,” she says, voice gentle. “Probably tired. Or avoiding something.”

You pause without meaning to. Heeseung answers after a beat. “She does that.”

Your chest tightens instantly.

Your mom chuckles softly. “Does what?”

“Pulls back,” he says, careful. “When she doesn’t know how to react yet.”

Silence. Then the faint clink of a spoon against a bowl. “You sound like you know her pretty well,” your mom says lightly.

Another pause. Short. Measured.

“I had an impression,” Heeseung replies. “A while ago.”

An impression.

Your fingers curl at your side.

“Huh,” your mom hums. “That’s funny. She actually does leaves impressions on people,”

There’s a smile in Heeseung’s voice when he answers. “Yeah. She does.”

Your mom moves on easily, talking about dinner, about how long Mrs. Lee plans to stay. The conversation drifts, harmless again.

But you don’t move because impressions aren’t made in passing. They’re made when someone sees you up close. When you let them.

You step back quietly, retreating before either of them can notice you there. Back in your room, you sit down slowly, heart still racing.

He didn’t say you’d met.

He didn’t say when.

But he didn’t say you were strangers either. And somehow, that middle ground feels far more dangerous.

A soft knock echoes through your room a few minutes later.

“Hey… you awake?” Heeseung’s voice—calm, controlled, but just close enough to make your heart stutter.

You freeze. Your chest tightens, your pulse spiking. Act normal. Just act like you weren’t eavesdropping.

You smooth your hair with a trembling hand, blink rapidly, and open the door. “Yeah… just woke up,” you say, voice a little too bright, trying to sound casual.

Heeseung steps into the doorway, just enough to glance around your room. His eyes flick over you—not accusatory, not teasing—just aware. The way he looks at you makes the air between you feel suddenly heavy, like it’s charged with electricity you both can’t ignore.

“Your mom’s calling,” he says softly. “Everything’s ready.”

You nod quickly, gripping the doorframe as if it can anchor you. “I’m… not that hungry,” you murmur.

Heeseung tilts his head, that faint, knowing curve of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Uh-huh,” he replies, voice smooth, steady, and sharp enough to cut through your attempts at calm.

You step aside, but your foot catches on the edge of the rug. You curse under your breath, forcing a laugh. Too loud. Too sharp.

He doesn’t comment. He doesn’t need to. The silence itself feels deliberate, heavy. The space between you is so tight that you feel him even when he doesn’t touch you.

“I’ll be eating downstairs,” he finally says, straightening, eyes lingering just long enough to make your stomach clench.

“Okay… see you there,” you say, breath uneven, heart hammering.

He nods once, easily, and leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

The click echoes like a verdict.

You press your back against the door, sliding down slowly, hands trembling.

He knows I was listening.

He remembers… more than he should.

And he didn’t say a word.

The thought alone makes your stomach twist.

You straighten abruptly, forcing yourself to move. Down the stairs. To the dining room. To the table.

Every step is a battle between calm and the chaos churning under your skin.

Because you know tonight, nothing is going to feel casual. Not with him. Not after this.

The whole time during dinner, you caught him staring at you. Shamelessly at that, gave you a sheepish smile when you eye him suspiciously. He’d move his leg closer to yours, it’ll bump a few times, but he doesn’t pull away.

After dinner, you volunteer on doing the dishes. Your mom and Mrs. Lee’s voices fade into the living room, laughter and chatter blending together.

You take a steadying breath and move to the sink, rolling up your sleeves. Warm water runs over your hands, steam curling around your wrists. For a second, it almost feels normal. Almost.

Then you sense him before you hear him.

Heeseung steps beside you, quiet as a shadow. You tense instantly, shoulders stiff, fingers tightening around a plate.

“Need some help?” he asks softly, tilting his head. Not teasing, not accusing. Just calm, measured.

“I’ve got it,” you reply quickly, eyes trained on the suds, forcing the tone casual.

He doesn’t insist. He simply picks up a stray plate, moving closer than necessary, letting his hands brush yours ever so slightly as he rinses it. You flinch, heart hammering, but he doesn’t comment, doesn’t linger. Just present.

The silence stretches, heavy, almost oppressive. Every splash of water, every clink of a dish, echoes too loudly.

You scrub a pan a little harder than needed, trying to focus on anything else—the warmth of the water, the smell of garlic, the mundane rhythm of washing—but his quiet presence keeps threading through every thought.

He moves another plate, sets it down. Your hands brush again.

You feel your pulse spike, your chest tightening. Every subtle movement, every glance he doesn’t make—it’s all charged, all deliberate.

The kitchen is small. Empty. Safe. Except it isn’t. Not with him here.

You swallow hard, scrubbing away your nerves as the quiet stretches on, aware that he notices everything, even the things you think he can’t.

And somehow, that makes it impossible to breathe normally.

The sponge squeaks softly as you scrub, the rhythm steady but your thoughts anything but. You’re just about to reach for another plate when he speaks again.

“You know,” Heeseung says, evenly, like he’s commenting on the weather, “you’re not very good at pretending.”

Your hand stills.

“…Pretending what?” you ask, eyes fixed on the sink.

“That you weren’t listening earlier.” He sets a plate onto the rack, movements unhurried. “In the hallway.”

Your chest tightens. You swallow. “I wasn’t—”

He cuts you off gently. “You were.” Not accusing. Just factual. “You always stop breathing when you do that, though your eyes give it away, that you’re pretending everything’s fine.”

That makes your fingers curl instinctively around the sponge.

You let out a short laugh, more defensive than amused. “You don’t know what I ‘always’ do.”

He glances at your hand, then back to the dish he’s drying. “I know because I’ve seen it before.”

You twist the dish towel in your hands, knuckles whitening. The quiet stretches too long, presses too hard against your ribs.

“Are we really doing this?” You snap, turning to look at him directly.

He raises his eyebrows, “Do what?”

You gesture vaguely between the two of you, before sighing. “Implying things happened, without really saying it?”

He watches you for a second, expression unreadable—not defensive, not amused. Just… attentive.

“I’m not implying,” he says evenly. “You are.”

That only makes your chest tighten.

You scoff, turning back to the sink and reaching for another plate you definitely don’t need to wash. “Right. Of course. Because I’m the one who keeps bringing up impressions and ‘remembering’ and—whatever this is.”

He lets out a quiet breath, more tired than annoyed. “I brought it up once.”

“And you’ve been hovering ever since,” you shoot back, voice sharp but not loud. “So tell me—are we pretending we don’t know each other, or are we circling around it until I crack?” The words hang between you.

He sets the towel down, slow, deliberate. “I’m not trying to crack you.”

“Then what do you want?” you ask, finally facing him again.

He meets your gaze, steady. No smile. No games. “I wanted to know if you leaving meant what I thought it did,” he says simply.

Your throat tightens. “And what did you think it meant, Evan?”

His breath hitches at the usage of his other name, “That you didn’t want to stay,” he replies. “Not just that morning. In general.”

You laugh softly, but it’s brittle. “It’s a one-night stand.”

He nods once. “It is, but I clearly told you before we fell asleep, that I’d prefer you staying.”

Silence settles again, thicker now. The kitchen light hums overhead. Somewhere in the living room, your mom and Mrs. Lee laugh at something on TV.

“I didn’t leave because of you,” you say finally, quieter. “I left because staying would’ve made it… complicated.”

His jaw tightens just a fraction. “And now?”

You hesitate. “Now it already is.”

He holds your gaze for a long moment, then exhales slowly. “Yeah,” he says. “It is.”

Neither of you move back to the dishes, he wipes the last plate before walking out of the kitchen.

APRIL 2025

The room is dim, lit only by the city glow slipping through the curtains. Everything feels slower, warmer—like the night hasn’t quite caught up with you yet.

You’re tangled in the sheets, limbs heavy, head resting against the pillow. Your skin is still buzzing, your thoughts pleasantly loose around the edges. Somewhere nearby, Heeseung shifts, the mattress dipping slightly as he turns onto his side.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low, a little rough around the edges.

You hum, half-laughing into the pillow. “I think so. Might need a minute to remember my name.”

He chuckles softly. “Fair.”

The pause lingers, easy and unforced. The city light paints soft lines across the ceiling, and for a moment, neither of you moves.

You’re the one who breaks it first.

“Evan,” you say, voice lazy, still warm with alcohol and comfort. “What do you actually do when you’re not… here?”

He exhales a quiet laugh, turning his head slightly toward you. “That’s a loaded question.”

You smile into the pillow. “I’m serious. You feel like someone with a very normal answer and a very complicated explanation.”

He considers that. “I work in the music industry. Producing. It sounds fancier than it is.”

“Everything sounds fancier at night,” you mumble. “Especially after drinks.”

“True,” he agrees. Then, after a beat, “What about you?”

You shrug, the sheets rustling. “Still figuring it out. I bounce around a lot, job-hunting.”

He smiles and run his hand on your hair, as if wanting to see your face clearly. “You’re tense, like there’s a lot going on here.” He softly taps on your temple.

You huff a quiet laugh, eyes fluttering shut at the gentle touch. “Is that your professional opinion?” you murmur. “Because I didn’t realize producers did mind-reading too.”

He chuckles, thumb brushing lightly through your hair, unhurried. “Not mind-reading. Just… paying attention.”

You turn your face toward him then, cheek sinking deeper into the pillow. “There’s always a lot going on,” you admit. “I just don’t like sitting still long enough to sort it out.”

“Why not?” he asks, not pushing—just curious.

You think about it for a moment, gaze drifting to the ceiling. “Because if I do, I might realize I’m not as put-together as I pretend to be.”

He hums softly, fingers still tracing slow, absent patterns. “That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mumble. “You seem like you’ve got things… handled.”

He smiles faintly. “I’m good at looking like I do.”

You glance back at him. “Really?”

“Really,” he says. “I just learned how to keep the chaos quiet.”

That earns a small smile from you. “Guess we’re not that different then.”

“Guess not,” he replies.

The room settles again, the air warm and slow. His hand stays in your hair, grounding, gentle—like he’s in no rush to let the moment slip away.

Neither of you says it, but the thought hangs there between you, soft and dangerous all at once:

This feels easy.

Too easy.

He pulls you closer, lips pressing on your temple as he sighs.

“I’d love it if you stay.”

And you felt your heart breaks a little when you doze off.

…

Three days.

Three days until he leaves.

And for the past two, he hasn’t said a word to you.

You can feel it in every glance across the kitchen, every step in the hall, every time the front door opens and closes. He’s there, moving around the house, calm and composed as ever, but the silence between you? It’s deafening.

You try to keep yourself busy—laundry, dishes, scrolling mindlessly through your phone—but the tension follows you everywhere. Even sitting in your room, pretending to read, you can hear him talking to your mom in the living room, laugh light and easy, and it makes your chest tighten.

Your mom insists on taking Mrs. Lee and Heeseung to the city’s famous park for a “little sightseeing and fresh air,” and somehow, you’re drafted along.

“Come on,” your mom says, practically bouncing. “You’ll enjoy it! The weather’s perfect, and it’s not a usual thing that we all went out together!”

So here you are, in Heeseung’s car with your moms at the back chatting mindlessly, pointing out shops, telling stories, laughing easily, while you sit in the passenger’s seat and him driving beside you.

He doesn’t say much, just drives with that calm, effortless composure that makes your stomach twist in ways you’re not ready to name. Your mom and Mrs. Lee chatter nonstop behind you, oblivious to the tight coil of nerves in the seat beside him.

You glance at him occasionally, catching his profile in the sunlight, the way his hands rest lightly on the wheel, the faint line of concentration in his jaw. He doesn’t meet your eyes, but you can feel the awareness there, quiet, unspoken, like a weight pressing just enough to make you swallow hard.

“I hope you like walking,” your mom says suddenly from the back, as if reading your tension, “the park’s beautiful this time of year. Lots of trees, fountains—perfect for photos!”

“Yeah,” you murmur, keeping your voice neutral, though your chest is still tight.

Heeseung hums softly, not answering but shifting slightly in his seat, just enough that you notice.

The car slows, pulling into the park lot. Sunlight streams through the windshield, glinting off the pavement and the scattered autumn leaves. Your mom practically leaps out first, Mrs. Lee following close behind, both chattering excitedly.

You take a deep breath, adjusting your bag, and slide out of the car. Heeseung steps out after you, calm and measured, slipping into the rhythm of the park like he belongs there—yet you feel every step he takes, each one a quiet reminder that the past two days of silence haven’t lessened the tension between you.

As the group moves along the tree-lined path, your mom and Mrs. Lee wander ahead, comparing flowers and pointing out fountains. Heeseung falls in step beside you, hands tucked into his pockets, walking slightly behind but close enough that you can feel the space between you shrinking.

“Nice day,” he says finally, casual.

“Yeah,” you reply, voice careful. “Not too crowded either.”

He hums softly, and you feel that subtle glance he throws your way—quick, unobtrusive, but enough to make your stomach twist again.

The silence between words is heavy, but not hostile. It’s loaded. Sharp. And as you continue along the winding paths of the park, you realize these three days—and these stolen moments in the quiet—might be harder than anything you expected.

You barely get a chance to say more to him before your mom is already digging through her bag.

“Phone—where’s my phone?” she mutters, then brightens. “Oh! There it is.”

Mrs. Lee laughs beside her. “You’re just as excited as ever.”

“Of course I am,” your mom says. “When do we ever get everyone together like this?”

Everyone.

You glance at Heeseung without meaning to. He’s still looking around, taking the place in quietly, like he’s memorizing it. First time here. First time seeing your city like this.

“Alright,” your mom says, raising her phone. “Group photo first.”

You shuffle closer, standing beside Mrs. Lee. Heeseung ends up at the edge, half a step apart from you, hands in his pockets.

“Wait, no,” your mom frowns. “Heeseung, come closer. You’re getting cut out.”

He obeys, stepping in just enough that his shoulder brushes yours—brief, accidental, but it sends a jolt through you anyway.

Click.

“Again,” Mrs. Lee says. “That one was blurry.”

You barely have time to reset before your mom adds, “Okay, now just you two.”

“What?” you and Heeseung say at the same time.

“It’s nice to have one of the younger generation,” your mom insists. “For memories.”

You exchange a quick glance with him—too quick to mean anything, too loaded to be nothing.

“Just stand there and act normal!” your mom says.

Easier said than done.

You stand side by side this time, not touching, but close enough that you’re aware of his presence—his warmth, the way he’s careful not to move too suddenly.

“Smile,” your mom sings.

You do. Heeseung offers something polite, restrained.

Click.

“That’s nice,” Mrs. Lee says warmly. “You both look good.”

You almost laugh at that.

As your mom reviews the photos, muttering happily to herself, you step back without thinking. Heeseung does the same.

You don’t make it five steps more into the park before your mom stops again.

“Wait—stand there,” she says, already lifting her phone. “The trees look really nice from this angle.”

Mrs. Lee nods enthusiastically. “Oh yes, the lighting is beautiful.”

You exchange a look with Heeseung. Not a look—just a flicker. A silent here we go.

Click.

You start walking again. Ten steps this time.

“Oh!” your mom gasps. “The fountain—Heeseung, you’ll love this. You two, go stand near it.”

“We just took one,” you say weakly. “That was over there,” she replies, like it explains everything.

So you move again, standing side by side while people pass behind you. Heeseung keeps his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, expression neutral. You keep your arms crossed, suddenly very aware of where you’re standing.

Click. Click.

Mrs. Lee laughs. “You look very natural together.”

You almost choke on air.

The walk continues. The photos do too.

By the flower beds.

Near the bridge.

In front of the pond.

Each time, your mom adjusts angles, steps back, waves you closer, tells you to smile more, tilt your head, stand straighter.

“You don’t have to look so tense,” she tells you at one point.

You laugh, tight. “I’m fine.”

Heeseung glances at you then, quick and unreadable.

At some point, he murmurs quietly, just for you, “If we keep this up, we’ll have enough photos for a family album.”

You blink, surprised.

“…I’m sorry,” you mutter. “She gets like this.”

He hums. “I noticed.”

There’s no edge in his voice. No teasing. Just observation.

Another photo.

Your shoulder brushes his this time, accidental. Neither of you move away immediately.

Click.

“Perfect!” your mom says.

You step away first.

The walk goes on, but your nerves don’t settle. If anything, they tighten with every forced smile, every staged moment, every second you’re made to look like something you’re very much not.

And the worst part?

Heeseung never once complains.

He just keeps walking beside you—calm, composed—letting the photos pile up like quiet evidence of something neither of you is ready to name.

You make it halfway up the stone path before it happens.

“Wait—wait, here,” your mom says suddenly, already lifting her phone again. “This spot is perfect. The water, the rocks—very scenic.”

You glance down at where she’s pointing and feel a flicker of hesitation. The stones near the edge of the stream are uneven, damp from the spray of the fountain nearby. The drop isn’t dramatic, but it’s enough to make you cautious.

“I don’t think that’s—” you start.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Mrs. Lee says cheerfully. “Just be careful.”

Famous last words.

You step forward anyway, because of course you do. Because this is not the hill you’re dying on today.

Heeseung follows a step behind you, quiet as always.

“Stand just there,” your mom says, framing the shot. “Yes, yes—perfect.”

You shift your weight slightly to adjust your footing.

And then your shoe slips.

It happens fast—too fast for you to catch yourself. One second you’re steady, the next the ground tilts and your stomach drops, breath punching out of you as you instinctively reach for anything.

Strong hands grab your arm.

Another slides to your waist, firm and immediate, pulling you back before you can even gasp.

You stumble—not forward, not down—but straight into him.

Your back hits his chest, solid and warm, his grip tightening just enough to keep you upright. For half a second, you’re frozen there, heart racing, fingers clutching at his sleeve.

He’s close. Too close.

You can feel his breath near your ear, feel the tension in his hold, the way his body adjusts automatically to steady yours.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, voice low—meant only for you.

You nod, a little too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, I—thanks.”

He doesn’t let go immediately.

Just long enough to make sure you’re steady.

Just long enough for the moment to stretch thin and dangerous.

“Careful,” he murmurs, almost instinctively.

Then—click.

“Oh my goodness!” your mom exclaims. “That was scary! But—oh, wait. Hold on.”

You stiffen.

“That one looked nice,” Mrs. Lee says, peering at the phone. “Very… natural.”

You finally step away, cheeks burning, suddenly very aware of how his hands had been on you, how easily he’d caught you, how familiar it felt in a way that made your chest ache.

Heeseung straightens too, composure snapping back into place like nothing happened. Hands back in his pockets. Expression calm.

But when you dare glance at him, his eyes linger on you just a second longer than necessary.

Your mom laughs. “See? Good thing he was there. You’d have fallen otherwise.”

“Yeah,” you say, forcing a laugh. “Good thing.”

The walk continues, the photos continue, but something has shifted.

Your heart doesn’t slow down.

And every time Heeseung walks just a little closer after that, you can’t tell if it’s accidental—

—or if he’s making sure you won’t fall again.

…

After dinner, you decide to hog the living room all by yourself, continue binge watching another C-drama you have postponed watching for the longest time.

It’s almost midnight, the moms had already wished you goodnight. You smile to yourself at the very well-earned time to yourself.

Or not?

Heeseung appears at the bottom, slightly disheveled, hair tousled like he’s just run a hand through it one too many times. He’s in simple grey sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt, the kind that clings just enough to show he didn’t bother thinking about how he looked.

His eyes are still half-lidded with sleep as they settle on the TV screen, expression calm.

He looks at you, before taking a seat.

“I watched this one.” He says softly. Voice hoarse with sleep.

“No spoilers, please.” You says, turning away to look at the TV. He laughs.

“Nothing too extreme, it’s a rom-com. Nothing can be a spoiler.” You clutch your heart, dramatically looking at him.

He shrugs. “What? It’s true. You know in the end they end up together.”

You sigh, leaning back. “Well, true that.” He lean back too, making your shoulders touch.

“Why did you wake up?” I look at him. “It’s barely midnight.”

“Can’t sleep. I mean, I kept waking up.” He replies, fingers tapping on his thigh. You nod, continue watching the romantic scenes on the TV.

“You enjoy stuffs like these?” He asks, not looking at you.

“Anything feel-good is enjoyable.”

“So the concept of romance, you like it?” He asks, carefully.

“Where are you going with this?” You look at him, eyes narrowing. He meets your gaze, his expression looking more earnest.

“Just wondering, if you’d like it in real life too.”

You scoff. “You and your nonstop bull—“

“Is it bullshit, really?” He asks, seriously this time. You felt your heart beating fast, you look away, just anywhere. Not sure where to look when he’s all up in your space like this.

“Evan.” You started,

“No, let me tell you this.” He straighten up, body now fully facing you, as he look directlt into your eyes.

“I’m sorry if I ever come up as pushy, talking about you with your mom, hinting at our past to her, making you feel things you don’t like, that wasn’t my intention.” He winces.

“I just…I just wanted to get to know you, really look at you. No dim lights of the bar, no dark night sky as we walk back to some hotel, and certainly no dark hotel room where I spent the whole night feeling good with the woman I knew nothing about.” He sighs.

“It’s just a one night stand, I get it.” He scoffs, “but what if I told you that I wanted more? That I regret waking up without your presence the next morning, how every sound you let out that night made me fantasize the sounds you’d make if it wasn’t casual?”

At this point, you were looking at him speechless. You’re not trusting your voice right now.

“Evan—“

“Heeseung.” He corrects. “Evan saw you first, but Heeseung fell for you.”

You fall silent again. Just staring at him like he didn’t just pour his heart out while you’re watching some corny C-drama.

“Say something. Anything.”

The TV continues playing, characters confessing under scripted rain.

But this?

This isn’t scripted.

And you’re not sure which feels scarier.

Your throat feels tight.

The drama’s background music swells dramatically, the male lead on screen confessing under artificial rain, but it feels distant—like white noise compared to the very real, very raw man sitting inches away from you.

You swallow.

“Heeseung…” you finally manage.

He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t interrupt. Just waits.

“You’re leaving in three days.”

It’s not the response he expected—but it’s the only one that makes sense in your head.

His jaw tightens slightly. “I know.”

“So what is this?” you ask, your voice quieter now. “You confess, we… what? Start something? And then you’re on the road back home in another city?”

He exhales slowly, running a hand through his already messy hair. “You think I haven’t thought about that?”

“I think you’re being impulsive,” you snap, but there’s no heat behind it—just fear. “You’re here. It feels intense. Nostalgic. But when you go back—”

“It’s not nostalgia,” he says firmly.

The way he says it makes you pause.

“It wasn’t just that night,” he continues. “I’ve tried to brush it off. I’ve tried to tell myself it was just chemistry. But then I see you here. The way you argue. The way you laugh with your mom. The way you pretend you’re tougher than you are.”

You glare at him slightly. “I am tough.”

His lips twitch faintly. “I know.”

That softness again. It’s worse than teasing.

“I don’t expect you to promise me anything,” he says. “I just needed you to know that I’m not playing around.”

Your fingers tighten around the blanket.

“You don’t get to say all that and then expect me to just… be calm,” you whisper.

“I don’t want you calm,” he admits. “I want you honest.”

The word lands heavily.

Honest.

You look at him then—really look at him. There’s no arrogance. No flirtation. Just a quiet steadiness that makes your chest ache.

“You think this is easy for me?” you ask softly. “Seeing you in my house. At dinner. At the park. Acting like we didn’t—”

Your voice falters.

“Like we didn’t matter,” he finishes.

You nod.

Silence settles again, but it’s no longer suffocating. It’s fragile. Balanced on something sharp.

“I didn’t plan to fall for you,” he says quietly. “It just happened.”

Your heart pounds harder at that word.

Fall.

“You don’t even know me that well,” you argue weakly.

“Then let me,” he replies immediately.

That catches you off guard.

“Let me know you properly,” he says. “Not just the version from one night. Not just the version that pushes me away when things feel too real.”

Your breath hitches.

“You’re scared,” he says gently.

“Of course I am,” you admit, almost frustrated. “You’re leaving. I don’t do long distance. I don’t do uncertainty, I…certainly don’t just date from one good sex.”

“And I don’t do pretending I don’t care,” he counters.

The drama on the TV ends its confession scene with applause-worthy music. You grab the remote and mute it.

The silence now is entirely yours.

“What are you asking from me?” you whisper.

He leans a little closer—not touching, just closing the space enough that you feel his presence fully.

“A chance,” he says. “Not a guarantee. Just… don’t shut the door before we even try.”

Your pulse is loud in your ears.

Three days before he leaves.

Three days to either build something—or protect yourself from it.

You look at him, eyes searching, trying to find a reason to dismiss this as temporary emotion.

You don’t find one.

And that’s what terrifies you.

“Say something,” he murmurs again, softer now.

This time, you don’t look away. You stare at him for one long, overwhelming second.

Your heart is racing too fast. Your thoughts are colliding into each other. Three days. Confessions. “A chance.” It’s too much. Too sudden. Too real.

You stand up abruptly.

“I—I need time to think,” you say, words tumbling out before you can filter them.

Heeseung rises halfway from the couch instinctively. “Hey—”

But you’re already stepping back.

“I just… I can’t answer you right now,” you add quickly. “It’s a lot.”

His expression tightens, but he nods once. “Okay.”

You don’t wait for anything else.

You bolt down the hallway, heart pounding, shutting your bedroom door a little harder than necessary. You lean against it, breath uneven.

Why now?

Why three days before he leaves?

Why does it feel like if you answer wrong, you’ll lose something you didn’t even realize you were holding?

You slide down against the door and press your palms to your eyes. You needed time. You just didn’t expect it to feel like this.

The next morning smells like butter and coffee.

You frown, your mom does not wake up early on weekends.

You shuffle out of your room, still half-asleep, hair messy, expecting silence. Instead, you hear the sound of a pan sizzling. You blink.

Heeseung is in the kitchen.

Sleeves slightly rolled, apron tied awkwardly around his waist (clearly borrowed), hair still soft and unruly from sleep—but this time he looks very awake.

Focused.

Your mom and Mrs. Lee are seated at the table, watching him like he’s some kind of five-star chef.

“He insisted,” your mom says the moment she sees you. “Said we should let him cook.”

He glances up at you.

Not smug, not teasing. Just steady.

“Morning,” he says.

You clear your throat. “Morning.”

He turns back to the stove. “Scrambled eggs or sunny side up?”

You blink. “What?”

“For you,” he clarifies. “How do you like your eggs?”

Your mom gasps softly. “He even asked me what you usually eat.”

You shoot her a look.

He continues like this is completely normal. “I made toast too. And there’s fruit.”

You step closer to the counter, still confused. “Since when do you cook?”

“Since always,” he replies casually. “You just didn’t stay long enough to see.”

Your ears burn, looking over to your moms if they notice it, they don’t.

He plates the food carefully—neatly, intentionally—and sets it in front of you first before sitting down.

That alone makes your stomach flip.

He doesn’t bring up last night.

Doesn’t push.

Doesn’t corner you.

Instead, he talks to your mom about the park photos. Asks his about souvenirs to bring home. Clears plates without being asked.

Too proactive.

Suspiciously proactive.

When your mom mentions needing to run errands later, he immediately says, “I can drive.”

When Mrs. Lee talks about wanting to visit a bakery nearby, he says, “Let’s go after breakfast.”

You watch him the entire time.

He’s not performing.

He’s consistent.

Intentional.

When your mom leaves the table to grab something from her room, and Mrs. Lee follows, you’re briefly alone in the kitchen.

He stands by the sink, rinsing dishes.

“You don’t have to… do all this,” you say quietly. He doesn’t turn around immediately.

“I know,” he replies then glances at you over his shoulder.

“But I want to.” There’s no pressure in his voice, just effort.

You swallow.

“You said you needed time,” he continues calmly. “I’m giving it to you.” The water runs softly between you.

“But I’m not going to act like I didn’t say what I said.” Your pulse stutters.

“I meant it,” he adds. “So I’ll act like I meant it.”

You stare at him and he turns the tap off and dries his hands slowly.

“I’m leaving in three days,” he says. “I don’t want to waste them pretending.”

And somehow, that hits harder than the confession itself.

…

From the moment breakfast ends, he doesn’t leave your side. Not in a suffocating way. Not hovering. Just… present.

When your mom asks you to help bring laundry out to dry, he’s already reaching for the basket before you can. When you struggle with the stubborn sliding door, he steps in quietly, fixing it without making a show of it.

“You don’t have to follow me everywhere,” you mutter at one point, adjusting the clothespins.

“I’m not following you,” he replies lightly. “I’m staying here temporarily too, remember?”

You glance at him. He looks almost amused—but there’s intention behind it.

Later, when you head to the small grocery store nearby because your mom forgot coriander, he walks beside you without even asking if he should come.

The afternoon sun is warm. The air smells like pavement and fried snacks from a stall down the street.

“So,” he says casually, hands in his pockets. “What did you want to be when you were younger?”

You blink. “What?”

“When you were eight. Ten. What was the dream?” You huff softly. “That’s random.”

“It’s not,” he says. “It tells me things.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You analyzing me now?”

“Maybe.”

You roll your eyes—but you answer anyway.

“I wanted to be a novelist,” you admit. “I used to write stories. Cringey ones.”

His eyebrows lift slightly. “You still write?”

You hesitate. “…Rarely now, in my notebooks in my apartment, or my notes app.”

“Why’d you stop wanting to be it?”

The question is gentle. Not invasive. Just curious. You shrug. “Reality. Expectations. It didn’t feel practical.”

He nods slowly, absorbing that like it matters.

“It still matters,” he says after a moment.

You glance at him. “What does?”

“The fact that you wanted to create something.”

Your chest tightens slightly.

He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t brush it off. Just lets it sit there like it’s important.

Back home, when your mom asks you to help reorganize some old boxes in the storage room, he follows again.

It’s dusty. Warm. Dim.

You crouch down to open a box of old photo albums. He kneels beside you, shoulder nearly brushing yours.

“That’s you?” he asks, picking up a picture of you at maybe twelve years old, hair shorter, smile wider.

You snatch it lightly. “Don’t judge.”

“I’m not,” he says. And he isn’t. He studies the photo like he’s memorizing it.

“You looked happy.”

“I was a kid.”

“And now?”

You look at him sharply. “What’s with the interrogation?”

“I told you,” he reminds you quietly. “I want to know you.”

There’s no rush in his tone. No desperation.

Just steadiness.

The day continues like that.

When you wash dishes, he dries them.

He asks about your university. Your friends. What stresses you out. What makes you laugh. What kind of music you secretly listen to when you’re alone.

At one point, he says, “You hum when you’re focused.”

You freeze. “I do not.”

“You do,” he insists softly. “You were doing it while cutting fruit earlier.”

You didn’t even realize.

“The thing you do with your hand? That too.” He points out, while taking your hand, opening it and see the crescent marks on your palm.

“You notice too much,” you murmur.

He doesn’t deny it.

“Someone has to,” he replies.

The living room is dim, only the lamp by the window casting a warm glow across the space. The TV is on but forgotten, some late-night rerun playing to fill the silence.

You’re curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked under you. Heeseung sits beside you—not too close, not too far—close enough that you’re aware of him without feeling crowded.

He’s been quieter tonight. Observing.

“Can I ask you something?” he says eventually.

You glance at him warily. “You’ve been doing that all day.”

A faint smile. “Humor me.”

You sigh. “Fine.” Only because you can’t resist his charming smile.

“That night,” he says carefully, “why were you really there?”

You stiffen slightly. “At the bar?”

“In another city. On a random weekend.”

“It wasn’t random,” you reply automatically.

He waits.

You stare at the muted TV screen for a long moment before answering.

“I party a lot with my friends,” you say finally.

He doesn’t react. Just listens. “More than people expect,” you add.

“Why?” he asks softly.

You let out a small breath through your nose. “Because it’s loud.”

He tilts his head slightly.

“Because when the music’s blasting and the lights are flashing and everyone’s moving,” you continue, “I can’t hear my own thoughts.”

The honesty surprises even you.

He doesn’t interrupt.

“You know how exhausting job hunting is?” you ask quietly. “Applications. Tailoring your resume for every company. Writing cover letters that feel fake. Preparing for interviews. Smiling. Selling yourself.”

His expression shifts—more focused now.

“And then the emails,” you continue, voice flattening. “‘We regret to inform you.’ ‘After careful consideration.’ ‘We’ve decided to move forward with other candidates.’”

You laugh softly, but there’s no humor in it.

“Sometimes they don’t even reply.”

Silence stretches.

“It gets to you,” you admit. “You start wondering what’s wrong with you. If you’re not good enough. If everyone else is moving ahead while you’re just… stuck.”

He doesn’t look away.

“So yeah,” you shrug lightly, though your chest feels tight. “I party.”

“To forget?” he asks.

“To breathe,” you correct.

You shift slightly, hugging your knees closer.

“When I’m out with my friends, I’m not the girl refreshing her email at 2 a.m. I’m not the candidate who didn’t make it to the final round. I’m just… me.”

He studies you carefully.

“And that’s why you were in another city.”

You nod.

“We’d just gotten two rejections that week,” you admit. “Back-to-back. I felt so stupid for getting my hopes up.”

Your voice lowers.

“So we booked a cheap place, took a train, and told ourselves we deserved one reckless weekend.”

“You call it reckless,” he says quietly. “But you sound calculated.”

You frown slightly. “What?”

“You didn’t go there to ruin yourself,” he says. “You went there to survive.”

That makes you blink.

“I like dancing,” you add quickly, deflecting. “I like dressing up. I like feeling wanted without having to prove I’m competent or impressive.”

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly at that word.

“Wanted.”

“It’s simple,” you say. “No resumes. No interviews. No expectations beyond having fun.”

“And me?” he asks gently.

You swallow.

“You weren’t part of the plan,” you admit.

His eyes don’t leave yours.

“I wasn’t looking for something serious,” you continue. “It was easier that way. Temporary city. Temporary connection. No future to mess up.”

“You think you mess things up?” he asks.

You give him a look. “Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

“I’m not,” he says evenly. “I’m trying to understand.”

You hesitate.

“When you don’t get chosen enough,” you say slowly, “you stop expecting to be.”

The words hang in the air.

He goes very still.

“That night,” you continue, quieter now, “I wasn’t thinking about tomorrow. I just wanted to feel good. To not think about rejection emails. To not feel like I was behind in life.”

“And I was… what?” he asks softly.

“A distraction,” you answer honestly.

The word lands heavy.

But before he can retreat into it, you add—

“A good one.”

His gaze sharpens slightly.

“You were easy,” you explain. “Not in a bad way. You didn’t interrogate me. You didn’t act like you were doing me a favor. You just… were there.”

He exhales slowly.

“And when I woke up alone,” he says quietly, “it didn’t feel temporary.”

You look at him.

“I didn’t want to be just a distraction,” he continues. “I wanted to be something that stayed.”

Your heart stutters.

You look away first. “I don’t know how to let things stay,” you admit.

“Because you’re used to them leaving?” he asks.

The vulnerability in the room shifts everything.

He doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t crowd you. He just sits there, steady.

“You party to break free,” he says after a moment. You nod.

“I’m not here to take that away from you.”

You glance at him cautiously.

“But I don’t want to be another escape,” he continues. “I want to be something you choose even when the music stops.”

Your chest tightens again.

Outside, the night is quiet. No music. No flashing lights. No crowd to drown out your thoughts.

Just him.

And the terrifying possibility that this time, you won’t be the one walking away before you can be rejected.

The room feels smaller after that.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

The lamp beside the couch casts a soft golden glow across his face, catching in his eyes. The TV is still muted, forgotten entirely now. Outside, the world is quiet—no music, no city noise, no chaos to hide behind.

Just you.

And him.

“I don’t know how to let things stay,” you admit again, softer this time. “Nor how to stay.”

He doesn’t rush to fill the silence. He doesn’t try to fix you. He just watches you like your words matter.

“Then don’t decide forever,” he says gently. “Just decide now.”

Your heart pounds.

“That’s how it starts,” you whisper. “Now turns into later. Later turns into expectations.”

“And expectations scare you,” he says.

“They fail,” you correct.

He studies you for a long moment. Then he shifts closer—not abruptly, not cornering—just enough that the space between your knees and his disappears.

“I’m not an interview,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to impress me.”

Your throat tightens.

“I already like you,” he continues. “On your stressed days. On your stubborn days. On the days you party too hard to feel free.”

You huff softly. “I don’t party too hard, I still control myself.”

He almost smiles. “You know what I mean.”

The tenderness in his voice makes your chest ache.

“You don’t have to earn staying,” he says.

The words hit somewhere deep.

You look at him, really look at him. His hair is still slightly messy from earlier. He’s not styled, not composed like the first night you met. He’s just… him.

And he’s looking at you like you’re not temporary.

Your voice comes out barely above a whisper. “You’re leaving.”

“In two days,” he says.

“And then?”

“Then we figure it out,” he replies. “Or we try. Or we fail. But at least we won’t be wondering.”

Your breathing feels uneven.

He lifts his hand slowly, like he’s giving you time to pull away.

When you don’t, his fingers brush lightly against your cheek.

The touch is soft. Careful.

Nothing like that first night.

That night was heat and impulse and dim lights and stolen glances.

This is quiet.

Intentional.

His thumb traces gently along your jawline, barely there. You feel your pulse everywhere at once.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

You swallow.

He doesn’t laugh at you.

Doesn’t tease.

His hand shifts slightly, cupping your cheek fully now. Warm. Steady.

“Tell me to stop,” he says quietly.

You don’t.

Instead, you lean in first.

It’s small. Barely an inch, but it closes the distance.

His breath brushes your lips before they meet. Slow. Careful. Testing.

When he kisses you, it isn’t rushed.

It isn’t hungry.

It’s soft.

Like he’s asking a question.

Your fingers clutch lightly at the fabric of his T-shirt without thinking. The kiss deepens just slightly—not intense, not overwhelming—just enough to make your heart feel like it might burst.

He pulls back a fraction, forehead resting against yours.

His voice is low. Almost unsteady.

“This isn’t an escape,” he says.

You nod faintly, breath mingling with his.

“I know.”

He kisses you again.

This time with more certainty.

Not claiming. Not demanding.

Choosing.

Your hand slides up to the back of his neck, fingers threading lightly into his hair. He exhales softly against your lips, one hand moving to your waist—secure, but not pulling you in without permission.

The world outside the living room feels nonexistent.

No rejection emails.

No interviews.

No expectations.

Just this moment.

When you finally pull back, your lips feel warm, your thoughts scattered.

“Now,” he murmurs softly, echoing his earlier words.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Now,” you repeat.

And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like something you’re running from.

It feels like something you’re choosing.

The living room feels impossibly small after that kiss. Your pulse is racing, every nerve on fire, yet your mind is dizzy in a way that makes thinking impossible.

Heeseung pulls back just slightly, his forehead still resting against yours, and you can feel the warmth of him everywhere. For a heartbeat, neither of you moves, the air thick with unsaid words.

“I—” you start, but your voice falters.

“I’ve got you,” he says suddenly, firm but gentle. His hands slide under your arms, and before you can protest, he lifts you effortlessly.

Your stomach flips. “Heeseung! Put me down!” you squeak, half-laughing, half-panicking, but you don’t resist.

“I don’t want to,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the side of your temple as he carries you toward your room. His voice is low, intimate, and the closeness makes your chest tighten even more.

Your room feels impossibly far and yet too close. The walls, the soft glow of your lamp, the familiar smell of your space—all of it is suddenly charged.

He sets you down gently on your bed, but the tension doesn’t leave. His hands linger near your waist, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of your shirt. You feel the deliberate weight of his gaze on you, assessing, quiet, patient.

“Are you… okay with this?” he asks, voice husky but careful, and you can’t tell if he’s asking about the kiss, being alone together, or everything.

You swallow hard, your pulse loud in your ears. “I—I think so,” you admit, your words trembling just enough to betray your certainty.

He shifts closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand resting lightly on the mattress near yours. You’re inches apart, every movement amplified. The air feels electric, charged with anticipation and heat.

His eyes trace your face slowly, almost like he’s memorizing every line, every shadow. “You’re warm,” he murmurs, voice softer now, almost a whisper.

Your breath catches. The room is quiet except for the distant hum of the city outside. Your fingers twitch at the edge of the blanket, trying to ground yourself, but he leans in, closing the space further.

His hand moves to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, brushing against your jaw as he does. You feel your own hands rise, unconsciously resting on his forearm. The intimacy is subtle, teasing—every touch deliberate, careful, yet charged with something unspoken.

“You’ve been on my mind,” he admits quietly, gaze locking with yours. “All day. Since breakfast. Even when we were doing the dishes… I couldn’t stop thinking.”

Your chest tightens. The honesty in his tone, combined with the nearness, makes your head spin. “Maybe you also have been lingering in my head all along for the past two months.”

“I—” you start, but he leans in closer, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. It’s slower, deliberate, exploratory—but there’s a hunger there too, restrained yet unmistakable.

Your hands find his chest, fingers brushing against the fabric of his T-shirt, feeling the solid warmth underneath. The kiss deepens slightly, teasing, suggestive, daring—but still measured.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, reading your reaction, searching for consent in your gaze. Your pulse is racing, your thoughts scattered, but the answer is clear in the flutter of your heartbeat.

His lips hover over yours again, close enough that you can feel the warmth and breath, and for a moment, nothing else exists: no hesitation, no past regrets, just the two of you, the quiet room, and the thrilling, dangerous pull of something more.

And then he whispers, low and husky, “Do you trust me?”

Your answer is a shiver, a nod, a soft, “Yes,” barely audible—but it’s enough.

The air between you thickens, charged with a suggestion, a promise, a question that doesn’t need words—because the way he’s looking at you, the way he’s close enough to touch, it says it all.

…

Heeseung’s lips trail down your neck with a slow, teasing warmth—each kiss featherlight at first, then lingering just enough to leave faint tingles in their wake. His breathing is uneven but controlled, clearly trying to balance the haze with focus.

“Always smell so good.” He murmur between kisses. One hand rests tentatively against your shoulder while the other tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before continuing his path lower.

Then he pauses abruptly near your collarbone as if remembering something, “I don’t have condoms with me,” He looks at you.

You huff, turning to your handbag. Pulling out the small foil packet, he smiles at you. “For your other one night stands?” You laugh.

“That was the plan, but I stopped doing those after you.” He doesn’t question it, You tug at his shirt, signalling you want it off.

Heeseung makes quick work of his shirt, tossing it aside before popping the button on his pants. His movements are fluid—confident but not rushed—as he steps out of them and kicks them toward the floor.

“Better?” He asks, voice low as he reaches for you again, now only in his boxers.

His fingers are gentle but eager as he helps you out of your own clothes—each piece discarded with care until there’s nothing left between you. His touch lingers on bare skin, like he’s relearning every curve after months of yearning.

"God… I love this,"he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “So beautiful.”

Heeseung trails kisses downward—slow, deliberate—each one hotter than the last. His hands follow, mapping your body like he’s memorizing it anew. When his lips finally reach the place you have been dying for him to touch, he glances up at you through his lashes, smirking.

“Want me to touch you here?”

You nod, he tsks. “Need to hear you, baby.” As his breath brushes your open folds.

“Yes.” You gasped, “Yes, please.”

He smiles, Heeseung doesn’t waste another second—his mouth sealing over you with practiced devotion. Every flick of his tongue, every hum against your skin is calculated to unravel you.

And it works.

His free hand grips your thigh, holding you steady as he focuses entirely on pleasuring and loving you—like this is the only mission that matters tonight.

Heeseung zeroes in on your clit instantly—his tongue circling it with just the right amount of pressure before sucking lightly. His eyes stay locked on yours, gauging every twitch and gasp to adjust his technique.

"This okay?" he murmurs against you, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear you say it anyway.

You nod, he hums in approval—taking your nod as permission to double down. His tongue flicks faster now, alternating between broad strokes and precise little darts while his fingers slip inside you, curling just right.

You yelp at the sudden intrusion, Heeseung pauses immediately—pulling back just enough to check your expression. His brows furrow in concern, but he keeps his fingers still inside you.

"Too much?" he asks softly, ready to adjust at your slightest hint. You shake your head, “It’s good, s’good..”

He exhales in relief—his tension melting into renewed focus. He resumes with even more care now, his movements deliberate and gentle as he coaxes you toward pleasure rather than overwhelming you.

"That’s it," he murmurs, lips brushing your inner thigh between words. "Just relax… I’ve got you."

“I’ll make you feel better than that night.”

He adds a second finger—stretching you gradually as his thumb replaces his tongue, rubbing slow circles over your clit instead. His eyes stay locked on your face, tracking every flutter of pleasure.

“Tell me if anything’s too much," he reminds, voice thick with concern beneath the desire.

Heeseung's touch remains gentle and attentive, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm that builds pleasure without rushing you. Every now and then, he glances up to make sure you're still comfortable—his expression soft with care even as desire burns in his gaze.

“So good for me, you’re so good for me.” He murmurs againts your skin, words warm and reverent.

He senses you're close—your breaths hitching, your body tensing around his fingers. He presses a final open-mouthed kiss to your clit before murmuring,

"Come for me, baby.”

His words are the last push you need—your climax crashing over you in waves as Heeseung rides it out with his fingers, his touch never faltering. When your tremors subside, he presses a kiss to your inner thigh and slowly withdraws his hand.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, crawling up to claim your lips in a deep kiss—letting you taste yourself on him.

“Need you, now.” You breath againts his lips

Heeseung groans at your words, his body responding instantly. In one fluid motion, he flips onto his back—pulling you atop him, before rolling the condom on with practiced ease.

“Ride me,” he rasps, before teasing his tip on your folds and guiding himself to your entrance. He hisses as you sink onto him—his hands flying to your hips, gripping hard as he adjusts to the sudden tightness. His head falls back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut for a second before he forces them open again, needing to see you.

"Fuck," he grits out, "You feel…"

Words fail him—too overwhelmed by how perfectly you take him in.

His breath comes in ragged bursts as you start moving—his hips instinctively bucking up to meet each of your descents. One hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you down into a searing kiss while the other presses possessively against your back.

He loses himself in the rhythm you set—every roll of your hips sending sparks through his veins. His hands roam your body, worshiping every curve as he murmurs praise against your skin.

“Gonna kill me like this, baby.” He cups your breasts as he pinches one of your nipples, you moan.

His control starts to fray—his thrusts becoming less measured, more desperate. He can feel his climax building rapidly, but he refuses to let go until you do first.

Heeseung flips you onto your back with surprising gentleness despite the urgency in his movements. The second he’s nestled between your thighs again, he surges into you—each thrust deep and deliberate.

"Look at me," he demands softly, cradling your face as his pace turns relentless. "Want to see you when we finish."

His thrusts grow erratic—his breath coming in sharp gasps as he chases his release. But even now, at the peak of pleasure, his focus stays on you, making sure you’re right there with him.

“Searched for you like crazy, kept..kept..asking around.” He went down to latch on your nipple, sucking softly and twirling his tongue making you whimper underneath him.

“Need the girl that made me fall hopelessly from just one night.”

Heeseung’s eyes lock onto yours, the intensity in his gaze nearly overwhelming as he pushes you both toward release. His thrusts grow sharper—each one hitting that perfect spot inside you while his thumb circles your clit with just enough pressure, making your moans slightly louder than before.

"Close?" he rasps, voice strained with restraint.

You nod frantically, your body coiling tight with impending pleasure. Heeseung’s answering grin is fierce—he can feel it too.

"Then let go," he urges, his own rhythm faltering as he chases his own peak alongside you.

The moment your climax hits—waves of pleasure crashing over you in relentless succession—Heeseung follows with a broken groan. His thrusts stutter before he buries himself deep, shuddering through his release as he holds you close.

For several breathless seconds, all either of you can do is cling to each other, sweaty and spent but utterly satisfied.

“Don’t go. Don’t leave this time.” He says, pressing a lazy kiss on your shoulder.

“Can’t run even if I tried,” you laugh, finally aware that you guys fucked in your childhood bedroom, in your parents’ house. With his and your moms just a few doors away.

…

Morning comes softly.

Not with alarms. Not with loud footsteps downstairs.

Just sunlight.

It slips through the thin gap in your curtains, warm and golden, stretching slowly across your walls, across your desk, across the edge of your bed.

You blink awake gradually, consciousness returning in pieces.

The warmth against your back registers first.

Then the weight around your waist.

Then the steady rise and fall of someone else’s breathing.

Your heart stutters.

Heeseung.

His arm is draped securely around you, palm resting flat against your stomach like it belongs there. Your back is pressed lightly to his chest, his face buried somewhere near the back of your neck, breath warm against your skin.

For a second, you don’t move, you just lie there and lets the reality settle.

Last night wasn’t loud or reckless or fleeting. It wasn’t dim bar lights and alcohol-blurred edges.

It was slow.

Intentional.

You remember how careful he was. How he kept checking in. How he looked at you like this wasn’t just physical.

Your cheeks warm at the memory.

Behind you, he shifts slightly. His arm tightens instinctively when you move.

“Mmm,” he hums, voice thick with sleep. “Don’t go.” You freeze.

“I’m not,” you whisper, even though you hadn’t actually planned to.

He exhales softly against your shoulder, clearly not fully awake yet. His fingers flex slightly against your waist, like he’s grounding himself.

The sunlight climbs higher.

You slowly turn your head just enough to glance at him.

His hair is a mess, falling into his eyes. His lips are slightly parted, expression relaxed in a way you’ve never seen before. No guarded composure. No teasing edge.

Just him.

Peaceful.

He blinks awake a moment later, eyes adjusting slowly.

There’s a brief second of confusion.

Then recognition.

Then something softer.

“Morning,” he murmurs. Your heart flips.

“Morning.”

Neither of you moves away.

Neither of you makes it awkward.

He studies your face like he’s making sure you’re real. Like he half-expected to wake up alone again. “You’re still here,” he says quietly.

You swallow. “So are you.” A small smile touches his lips.

He lifts a hand, brushing his thumb gently along your cheekbone. Not suggestive. Not urgent. Just… tender.

“Regrets?” he asks carefully.

You consider it. The sunlight. The warmth. The quiet. His arm still wrapped around you.

“No,” you answer honestly.

Relief flickers across his face so subtly you almost miss it.

“Good,” he murmurs.

Silence settles again, but it’s comfortable.

You’re suddenly aware of the house. Of your mom downstairs. Of Mrs. Lee probably already awake.

Reality creeping back in.

“We should probably get up,” you say softly. He groans lightly. “Five more minutes.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t move. His fingers trace lazy patterns against your waist absentmindedly.

“Last night,” he begins quietly, “wasn’t just… heat.”

You turn slightly to face him more fully now, the blanket shifting around you.

“I know,” you reply. His eyes search yours.

“I meant what I said,” he continues. “About wanting more.”

The weight of it is still there. But this time, it doesn’t feel suffocating. It feels steady.

You reach out, brushing a piece of hair away from his forehead. “I’m still scared,” you admit.

“That’s okay,” he says immediately.

“But I don’t want to run,” you add.

Something shifts in his expression—something hopeful. “We’ll figure it out,” he says quietly. “One step at a time.”

He leaves tomorrow.

But right now, he’s here.

Warm. Real. Looking at you like you’re not temporary.

His hand slides into yours under the blanket, fingers intertwining slowly.

SEPTEMBER 2025

Three months later, your apartment feels both fuller and emptier at the same time.

Fuller — because his hoodie is draped over the back of your chair. Because there’s a mug he likes that you bought “accidentally.” Because your call logs are filled with his name. Because there’s a toothbrush tucked into the corner of your sink like it belongs there.

Emptier — because right now, he isn’t here.

Long distance wasn’t glamorous.

It was: falling asleep on video call, propping your phone against your pillow just to see his face, texting “reach home safe” every long rides he takes back home, syncing up dramas and pressing play at the same time,

It was him visiting every three weeks without fail. No excuses.

He comes by Friday night, spends the weekend before saying goodbye Sunday night. Sometimes with a small bouquet.

Sometimes with your favorite snacks.

Once with nothing but a tired smile and open arms.

And every time he left, the goodbye got quieter. Less dramatic. More heavy.

But you were trying. Both of you were.

Tonight, you’re expecting him again.

You’d cleaned the apartment earlier, even though he’s seen it messy before. There’s a faint scent of citrus from the candle you lit. Your heart always beats a little faster on visit days.

When the knock finally comes, you don’t pretend to be calm. You open the door.

Heeseung stands there with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

And that smile, the one that makes three weeks feel like three seconds.

You don’t even greet him properly—you just step forward and hug him. He laughs softly, arms wrapping around you tightly, lifting you slightly off the ground for a brief second.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs into your hair. When you pull back, you notice something. He looks… different.

Not physically.

But there’s a weight behind his eyes.

“What?” you ask immediately. He exhales lightly. “Can I come in first?” You narrow your eyes but step aside.

He drops his bag near the couch, looks around your apartment like he always does—taking it in, grounding himself.

You close the door.

“Okay,” you say, crossing your arms. “What’s going on?”

He runs a hand through his hair—a nervous habit you’ve come to recognize.

“I have news,” he says. Your stomach drops slightly.

“Good news?” you ask cautiously.

He hesitates just enough to make your heart pound.

“I’m moving.” The word hangs in the air.

Your mind scrambles. “Moving?” you repeat. “Where?”

He steps closer. “Here.”

You blink. “…What?”

“I got a transfer,” he continues, the words coming faster now. “There was an opening in the branch here. I applied a month ago.”

“A month ago?” you echo.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to promise something that might not happen.”

Your heart is racing now. “I got it,” he says quietly. “It’s finalized.” Silence fills your apartment.

“You’re… moving here?” you whisper.

He nods. “I don’t want to do long distance anymore,” he says. “Not when I don’t have to.”

Your brain is still catching up.

“But your mom? Your place? Producing?”

“She supports it,” he replies. “And my job is still my job. Just different location.”

You stare at him.

“You did this… because of me?”He steps closer until there’s barely space between you.

“I did this because I want a life where I don’t count down weeks just to see you,” he says. “Because I don’t want to miss small things. Your bad interview days. Your random 2 a.m. thoughts. Your victories.”

Your throat tightens. “I don’t want to visit you,” he continues softly. “I want to be here.” Tears prick at the corner of your eyes before you can stop them.

“You’re serious,” you whisper.

He cups your face gently, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes.

“I’ve never been more serious.”

Your laugh comes out shaky. “You’re insane.”

“Probably,” he admits. “But I’m yours.”

note: freaking finally! i know i promised you guys this a month ago, and yes i’m alive. just wanted to wrap things up with my semester and have a small break after stressing out for finals, but alas! here we are! first work kinda nervous >< hope u guys love it!

taglist: @gardenwonn @vayuzzz @prettygirlthings-world @yenienha @enhypen437 @rayofsunshineeee @somuchdard

[velmirenoir]

cherries and wine ୨୧ lhs

ꫂ᭪ ─── pairing ₊ fem!reader ♡ roommate!heesung

in which you and your cocky roommate you’ve been crushing for a while on have a bit too much to drink, leading to messy drunk confessions.

content warning ₊ alcohol, unprotected sex, oral sex, ice play/temperature play, ingesting genital secretion, pain infliction (both parties receiving), brat!reader ♡ dom!heesung, teasing

ⓘ wc ₊ 2.3k

| now playing ₊ pretty the weeknd

all you can focus on his cute face. you press your cheek flat against the cold kitchen island.

for some reason, you thought it was a good idea to challenge heesung to a drinking competition - winner gets whatever. let’s just say you finished way before he even got started.

the line of empty glasses of cherry soju are taunting you in your defeated state. it’s so warm, you can feel your cheeks burning heat even when you’re pressed against the cold marble. heesung looks at you, setting the shot glass down. his cheeks are flushed slightly from the alcohol.

“tapping out already?” he lets out a low deep chuckle, the sound making your stomach tighten. you nod with little strength, absolutely defeated. “how are you not drunk?” you complain. damn it all, damn heesung and him literally being good at everything.

“who says i’m not? i’m just at better controlling it than you.”

of course he is. you glare at him. he’s looking at you with a smug smirk, and boy it annoys you. it annoys you how much you want to kiss that smirk off his face.

"y/n, you’re glaring daggers into me. if you glare any harder you’re gonna burn a fat hole in my face.” heesung flicks your forehead playfully, you flinch.

you sit up and straighten, pouting slightly. “you win, what do you want?” you sigh. he raises his eyebow, like he wasn’t expecting you to ask him that - after just beating you.

he looks you up and down, you’re only in a bra and tiny shorts. he glances at your cleavage for a second before making his way up back to your face. “why don’t you tell me something, y/n?”

“hmmm?” you mumble, hazy from how much you had to drink. he scoots his bar stool closer to yours, the distance between you closing. he’s so close enough to feel your body heat.

“are you gonna finally tell me how much you like me?” he says relaxed, pouring himself another shot. you tense up under his gaze - the scent of cherry soju now making you sick, and your stomach turns.

he downs the shot like it was nothing, still holding eye contact with you as he awaits your response. “ahaha” - you giggle nervously - “i don’t know what you’re talking about...” you start fixating on your hair - nervously - brushing your fingers through the silky strands.

heesung eyes lower, his hand reaching out to stop your hands doing their nervous habit. he twirls your hair. “playing dumb won’t work on me. i see right through you.”

your mind flips. the alcohol making you blurt out words faster than you can stop them - “okay, i like you. i like you so fucking much heesung, happy?” you shove lightly at his chest, annoyed. he grabs your wrist to keep your palm flat against him, his muscles flexing beneath your touch.

“woah, feisty girl.” he chuckles, his laughter making heat burn on your cheeks - as well in between your legs. his eyes begin to wander again, back down to your boobs. “stop looking at my tits, pervert.” you huff, annoyed. although, you do like his attention. he lets go of you.

“why are you wearing only a bra if you don’t want me to look? i’m going to look naturally.”

“it’s comfortable.” you snap back quickly with an attitude.

he raises an eyebrow - you glare. he glares back. “is that so?” he asks, his voice now deep and controlled.

“yeah. got a problem?”

he swallows, his adam apple bobbing, god how much you love his adam apple. it’s one of his sexiest features.

“watch it.” he says.

“or what? what’re you gonna do?”

silence.

“exactly what i thought.” you hmmph in quiet victory.

“i’m going to fuck your pretty little mouth, and then you’re not gonna be able to be such a brat with me in your walls.”

you’re stunned. your mouth opens to retort, but before you can even speak his mouth is already on yours.

and he’s not gentle.

you fist his shirt for stability - eyes shut tightly. he tastes like mint and cherries plus the alcohol, the kiss hot and messy. you moan into his mouth, and it only makes him kiss you harder.

he pulls back for air, and he stands - the bar stool making a noise from how quick he stood. heesungs hovering above you, looking down at you with unclear intentions. neither of you say anything, only the sound of your heaving breathing fills the air.

“what does this mean heesung?”

he runs his fingers through his hair, sighing. “i know you want me, and i want you too. like bad.” he confesses, looking embarrassed now.

“i-” he cuts you off - “don’t say anything, please.” you knew he wasn’t that well at expressing himself, but how can he expect you to not say anything? he showed no signs of liking you previously til now.

he moves to the living room, and you trail behind him. you’re not letting him off the hook that easily, that’s just not who you are. he man spreads on the couch, and fuuck if you weren’t wet before now you were.

you stand awkwardly a few feet away from him, pondering on what to do next. you just found out you both have mutual feelings for eachother, and he threatened you - with a good time - kissed you, and now the tensions suffocating and unignorable.

fuck this. you dreamt of this day for so long, and it’s not ending like that.

the whiplash from the kiss sobered you up a bit, but the alcohol is still lingering, giving you confidence and without a second thought you make your way toward him.

you stand in front of him.

he doesn’t look up at you.

you slowly drop to your knees on the floor before him and tug on his belt playfully. his eyes flash, “what’re you doing?” he asks.

“don’t say you’re going to fuck my mouth and not stand on it afterwards.” you unbuckle his belt, then pull down his sweats. he doesn’t stop you.

you palm his thick erection through his boxers, your mouth leaving wet hot kisses on the outline. he bites his lip, sighing contently. he moves your head gently out the way to release himself, his dick flinging out in front of you.

it’s long, thick, and it’s all hard for you. for a moment, you contemplate about how you’re gonna go about doing this. obviously, it won’t all fit in your mouth at once.

you wrap your lips around the head, tongue swirling around and in his slit. he throws his head back, letting out a groan. you attempt to swallow him hole, but halfway you stop to gag - you can’t push any further.

it will have to do.

you move your head up and down, your hand stroking the rest of his length. his hips buckle up instinctively, pushing his dick way deeper. you gag, eyes tearing up. his large hands grips your hair and he starts to fuck your mouth roughly, letting out low moans and groans. your hands find his hips for hold.

“fuck,” - he stutters - “you’re gonna be a good girl and swallow it right?” you want to, but you want to make him work for it more. you nibble softly on his dick and he growls, stopping completely.

“what’s wrong? do you wanna stop?” he asks, softly.

you pull your mouth off his dick completely, “if you wanna finish in my mouth? you better beg for it.” you challenge him, the attitude coming back in your words. heesung eyes lower, he’s annoyed.

suddenly, he gets up and picks you up, you squirm in his arms. “you really wanna play that game? i’ll show you who’s really in charge here, baby.” he kicks the door open to his room and strides in, tossing you on the bed before turning back around to leave.

“where are you going?”

“i’ll be right back.” he walks off into the kitchen.

your body is burning up all over, his sheets are comfortable and his whole room smells like him. his scent overwhelms your senses, you turn - fisting a handful of his comforter and bringing it to your face, inhaling his smell. your fingers wander down into your shorts.

you close your eyes and sigh, pumping two fingers in and out of your pussy, imagining it’s heesung. you whimper, “heesung.. just like that.”

you whine.

“just like what y/n?” he comes close, laying in the bed next to you. pressing his hard on right on your ass. “did i say you could touch yourself while i was gone?” he reaches for your hand you’re using to please yourself and puts it behind your back - like you’re being arrested for a crime - and rolls you over on your stomach.

he hovers over you, both of his knees on either side of your legs. you lift up your ass a bit, playfully wiggling your ass against his dick. his hand comes down hard, and sharp. you moan. “brat.” he pulls down your shorts quickly, only to be surprised that you’re completely bare underneath. no panties.

he slaps your ass again, the sensation making you moan loudly. he lets go of your hand, letting it fall to the side limply. you hear shuffling, possibly him reaching for something? and then it hits you.

heesung begins to trail down your back with his mouth and an ice cube on his tongue, you moan and whimper at the cold sensation. the contrast of your searing hot skin under his cold kisses making you all fuzzy.

“heesung.. ah..” you whimper.

he stops trailing at your warm slick slit.

“ass up baby.”

you obey and lift yourself up, he smirks and then begins to lick your clit - ice still in his mouth. your legs close instinctively, the cold ice rubbing you in all the right ways.

“ah-ah.” he slaps your ass again, your ass cheek starting to sting. you open your legs again, “good girl.”

he pushes the ice cube into your pussy with his tongue, and then he flips you over on your back, lining himself at your entrance. you whimper, ready. you rub your clit on his tip for stimulation.

“if you want me to fuck you rough right here right now, you have to beg for it.”

and there it is, he’s throwing what you said to him moments ago back in your face. you don’t want to submit fully, but fuck you’re so horny it aches and you cant take it anymore.

“please heesung, please fuck me. i’ve been so good.”

“have you been good though?” he slides the tip in your pussy, then pulls out, leaving you wanting more. you whimper.

“you gonna keep testing me?” he does it again. you shake your head quickly.

“i won’t i want to be a good for you, i want it all inside mem, please.”

he pushes in all the way at once. your head tilts back, the pain and pleasure of him stretching you without giving you a moment to adjust. he grabs your chin.

“look at me. look at how i ruin you.” he tilts your head to look at where you both are combined. the ice and his dick are both inside of you, and you can feel the ice already melting from both your guys’ warmth at the same time. he lets go of your face and straightens.

heesung begins to fuck you roughly and with a brutual pace you can’t keep up with, the ice and his big dick hitting your cervix with each thrust. you can’t tear your eyes away from his dick going inside and out of you, he lifts his shirt up - his muscles visible - and bites down on the fabric to muffle his moans. you whine, wanting to hear his voice.

your fingers trail down to begin to circle your clit, his hips snap rough. making a loud moan come out from you. he stops trying to muffle himself, “fuck yeah baby, show me how you please yourself while you take me. you look so pretty like this y/n.”

he leans down to kiss you, still thrusting. it’s too much for you, you can’t even say anything because he’s not letting up. you squirm and tighten around him, making him moan.

you reach up and grab a fistful of his hair, pulling harshly. he hisses, and thrusts even harder in retaliation. your fingers speed up on your clit, and without warning you squirt all over him - and his sheets - he pulls out quickly.

he smirks. the same cocky smirk he would always have that would annoy you to hell. “look at the mess you made, darling. feel good?”

“mhm..” you respond quietly.

he scoots in close, all the way until his dick is at your face.

“open wide..” he commands.

this time, you obey. he strokes a few times, and then shoves his dick back into your warm mouth, his semen spilling into you.

you look up at him.

he looks down at you.

you swallow it, the taste of salty and sweetness going down your throat.

he pulls out gently and leans down to kiss you.

he takes his shirt off - throwing it to the floor - and then picks you up bridal style, “let’s wash up.”

he makes his way into his bathroom and turns on the water quickly. “you gonna wanna eat after? i’ll take care of you.”

you hum. “can i even walk after this?” you giggle.

he laughs. “yeah probably not, i guess take-out it is then.”

he helps you into the shower, both of you just look at each other contently. he presses a kiss to your forehead before reaching for the soap.

next time, you’ll show him. but for now, you let him wash you up.

authors note ₊ thank you sm for reading and taking the time out of your day to give my fic a chance. if you liked this please give me some feedback and support <333

requests are open!! dont be shy :)

[starryjake]

teddy bear pajamas | l.h

in which heeseung is supposed to be sleeping over with his best friend, jay, but spends the night with jay’s younger sister instead.

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader

warnings: throat fucking, fingering, making out, nipple play, spitting, cum swallowing. (lmk if i missed anything).

how you were supposed to fall asleep when your brother and his friends were screaming in the other room was beyond you. video games, of course. that was the culprit as to why they were screaming and you were about a minute away from walking into the living room and exploding.

how badly you wanted to go to them and yell at them to shut up.

instead, you chose the mature option. you took a deep breath and decided to yell at your brother over text instead.

you: if you guys don’t shut the fuck up

jay: do i need to remind you that i pay your rent

you sighed. he was right. you felt bad complaining when jay already did so much for you. not only did he pay your rent, but he cooked for you, lended you money when you needed it, and always let you have friends over without complaint.

you: nvm 😁

you turned your phone back off, laying on your side. you pressed a pillow over your ear in hopes to muffle the sounds of the boys yelling, and while it didn’t do much, you were able to fall asleep after a few minutes.

-

you managed to fall asleep for a good two hours before you were awoken again. you expected it to be the boys again, but the apartment you shared with your brother was silent.

suddenly, your phone buzzed. with squinted eyes, you grabbed your phone to check the notification.

it was heeseung, one of jay’s best friends. you knew all of jay’s friends. you practically grew up with them, and some of them you even considered to be your brothers as well.

heeseung: are you awake?

his text woke you up a bit more. you sat up in your bed, wracking your brain as to why he was texting you this late.

you: yeah, why?

heeseung: jay is snoring and i can’t sleep 😣

you: yeah sounds about right

you chuckled to yourself at his dilemma.

heeseung: yeah well i was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie?

heeseung: say yes 🙏

your heart raced. your first instinct was to answer yes in all capital letters, but luckily your brain reminded you how utterly pathetic that would be.

you did not want to mess up and embarrass yourself in front of heeseung.

you: it’s the middle of the night. you’re funny if you think i’m getting out of bed rn

heeseung: well we can watch smth in your bed

you gulped. just the mere idea of having heeseung next to you in your bed, watching a movie together excited you. you didn’t know why. it wasn’t like you liked heeseung or anything, but you always saw him as the coolest out of your brother’s friends. that was why you were always cautious about what you said in front of him and how you presented yourself. you wanted to impress him.

however, he would not be impressed if he were to walk into your bedroom right now and see you in your teddy bear matching set pajamas. he’d probably laugh.

you were already overthinking and you hadn’t even agreed yet.

you: ok fine

heeseung: be right there

now, you deemed, was an appropriate time for the panic to set in. you leapt out of bed and beelined for your closet, rummaging through all your clothes for a more appealing set of pajamas.

unfortunately, you’d underestimated how long it would take for heeseung to walk from jay’s room to yours, and suddenly there was a knock on your bedroom door.

you froze in the doorway of your closet, still wearing your teddy bear printed pajamas.

accepting defeat, you softly called out, “come in.”

the bedroom door opened and in walked heeseung. he was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, his dark hair slightly tousled from sleep, or attempting to sleep. your knees buckled at the sight of him.

you’d always thought he was cool, and with that, you’d thought he was very attractive too. still, that didn’t mean you had feelings for him.

“hey,” he greeted in that soft voice of his. he quietly shut the door behind him. “cute pajamas.”

your cheeks flushed. you shut your closet door because it was too late to find a different pair of pajamas now.

“thanks,” you muttered.

you grabbed your laptop from off of your desk and trudged back into your bed. you tucked yourself back under the covers and watched heeseung, waiting for his next movement.

he walked over to your bed and climbed underneath the covers like he’d been sleeping there with you for the past year that you lived in the apartment. he scooted in close enough for your arms to be touching. he was so warm, it was hard for you not to lean into his touch.

“what do you wanna watch?” he asked.

“oh, i don’t care,” you said, opening your laptop.

you scrolled through the streaming platform for a bit before you both mutually agreed on a romantic comedy. you started playing the movie, resting the laptop on a pillow between your guys’ legs.

the movie started and it only took a few minutes for your eyelids to begin growing heavy. you would’ve dozed off had it not been the sudden movement from heeseung, who’s hand was suddenly very close to the side of your leg.

your eyes fluttered open. you kept your body very still, unsure whether he meant to put his hand so close or not. either way, you didn’t want to accidentally create an awkward situation.

20 minutes into the movie, heeseung’s hand was painfully slowly shifting it’s way onto your thigh. you were so exhausted you could barely comprehend it, but there was a small part of your brain freaking out, you just kept it all internalized.

“are you tired?” heeseung asked, speaking for the first time since the movie started.

“oh, i’m okay,” you lied.

“are you sure?” he wondered, genuine concern in his voice. “we can turn the movie off if you wanna go to sleep. i can go back to jay’s room.”

the last thing you wanted was for him to leave, especially with how heavy his hand was on your thigh and how it inched further up every minute.

“no, don’t go,” you said, too tired to realize how pathetic you sounded.

heeseung smiled at your words. he squeezed your thigh ever so slightly. your legs instinctively opened slightly, practically inviting him in.

“want me to stay?” he asked, his voice coming out in a whisper.

he was suddenly a lot closer than he was before, so close that you could feel his warm breath hit your face and his body heat radiate from him like a furnace.

you gulped, looking up into his eyes. you’d always loved his eyes, but never had the chance to see them up close like this.

for whatever reason, your half asleep mind told you it was okay to suddenly reach out and brush some of his hair out of his face, exposing more of his pretty face. he smiled at the bold movement from you. it was just the confirmation he needed that you were interested, and so he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

your eyes fluttered shut and your body shuddered with excitement. heeseung was kissing you. his one hand was gently holding your cheek while the other one stayed planted on your thigh, and he was kissing you.

you glided your fingers through his hair, tugging at the silky strands to express your pleasure. he moaned ever so softly in your mouth, inching his tongue into the mix.

you parted your lips further, leaving enough room for him to slide his tongue all the way in. you rubbed your tongue against his, your hips jutting off the bed in desperation. how embarrassing that you were already getting aroused just by the feeling of his tongue gliding against yours.

heeseung took notice of your desperation, which you were both humiliated and grateful for, as he slid his hand over your front, cupping your clothed pussy.

you clenched your eyes shut harder, whimpering into his mouth as he pushed his fingers against the fabric of your pants, sliding them delicately up and down the length of your pussy. you leaned your head back, disconnecting the kiss, and let out a needy moan.

“shh,” heeseung warned, planting a kiss to the side of your neck. “we don’t need your brother waking up and catching us, do we?”

you rapidly shook your head, sudden fear overcoming you at just the idea of jay catching you in your bed with heeseung. the idea scared you so much that your entire body froze and you stared at heeseung with wide eyes, like a deer in headlights.

“it’s okay,” he cooed. “you can be quiet, can’t you? you’ll be a good girl if i tell you to be, right?”

you gulped. “but what if he—”

“he won’t,” heeseung assured. “you’re always so quiet when you talk, you can be quiet in bed too, yeah?”

you nodded, thinking how it might actually be worth it if jay were to catch you because at least you would’ve been able to say that you’d hooked up with heeseung, a dream of yours for a long time.

“good baby,” he cooed, leaning back in and enveloping your lips in his again.

you fell slack under his touch, sighing in utter contentment. heeseung used the tips of two of his fingers to rub tiny circles where your clit was over your pants. that alone would’ve been enough to make you cum had he done it long enough.

instead, he does it for about a minute before wanting to feel your pussy without any interference. he slid his large hand into your pants and you gasped as his knuckle brushed against your bare pussy. heeseung smirked into the kiss upon feeling how wet you were already.

he took his index finger and gathered all your slick, spreading it around your pussy. you pathetically humped up into his hand, needing more but unable to find the words to ask for it.

“you’re so cute,” he gushed, pressing his forehead against yours. he held close eye contact with you as he slid his middle finger into your fluttering hole, watching your reaction closely. “so warm and wet, baby. is this all for me?”

you whimpered, nodding. he massaged his finger against your walls, stretching you out before he added in his ring finger. the sound of your pussy being fucked open by his two fingers was lewd and humiliating, but it turned heeseung on more than you knew. you couldn’t tell how hard he was, how he was pulsating against his sweatpants.

his palm hit your sensitive clit every time he thrusted his fingers into you. you were already a mess from the sensations, tucking your head into the crook of his neck to hide your embarrassment.

heeseung could feel your legs vibrating. you were so sensitive, he loved it. he wanted to make a complete utter mess out of you, just to see what it looked like. he wanted to see his best friend’s normally composed, shy little sister fall apart beneath him.

so, he sped up his fingers and fucked them into you deeper until he was reaching the spongey part deep inside your pussy. when he found that, you yelped, and he knew it was only a matter of time before you were cumming around his fingers.

when you did cum, your legs locked around his hand. you practically rode his fingers as your orgasm hit you, your fluids leaking down the side of his hand and seeping through your pajama pants.

“fuck,” he grunted just at the sight of you finishing, and how hot you looked.

you raised your head from his neck and looked up at him with glossy eyes and bright red cheeks. your hair was messy, your lips wet and swollen. heeseung could’ve came just by looking at you, you looked so good.

“oh my god,” he muttered. “c’mere, baby.”

his hand pressed against the back of your head, pushing your faces together. he kissed you again, although it was so messy that it could hardly be considered a kiss. he gathered some saliva in his mouth and pushed it into your lips without separating the kiss, and you drank all of what he gave you happily.

he pulled his hand out of your pants, exposing his hand which was covered in your release. he couldn’t decide whether to bring his fingers to his own lips or yours. he was desperate to know what you tasted like, but he also would’ve killed to see you with his fingers in your mouth, licking up your own arousal.

you took the initiative yourself, grabbing his wrist and stuffing his fingers into your mouth. you two moaned at the same time: you from tasting yourself on his fingers and him from seeing you with his fingers in your mouth. he would’ve never guessed you were this dirty, that his best friend’s little sister could be so lewd and needy.

you sat up on your knees once he’d pulled his fingers out of your mouth. finally, you were deciding to pay some attention to his cock, which was aching and he feared that he was so pent up, he might cum the moment you touch it.

luckily, that didn’t happen.

you palmed him over his sweatpants, grinning at how hard he was. you didn’t waste time teasing him over his sweatpants. instead, you knelt between his legs and tugged his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to spring out.

it was lengthy, which intimidated you as it stood straight up right in front of your face. intimidating as it was, you were hungry to taste him, to wrap your lips around his flushed tip and suck every last drop out of him.

heeseung dug his fingers into your hair and watched without allowing himself to blink as you licked his tip like it was a lollipop. you dug the tip of your tongue into his slit, gathering the bead of precum that had gathered there.

heeseung was sensitive. he always had been. he couldn’t help it when he jutted his hips up because it felt too good and he needed more. he needed to feel his cock constricted in the warm wet walls of your throat. he needed to be fucking your mouth like it was your pussy.

he gathered your hair into a makeshift ponytail, slowly lifting his hips up and pushing his cock deeper into your cavernous mouth. you allowed him happily, hollowing your cheeks out for added friction.

“you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he grunted, watching in utter fascination as you took his cock in your throat without so much as a gag.

you held onto his sides for leverage, but other than that you showed no sign of struggle. if anything, you only showed signs of enjoying this, of enjoying having his cock thrusting in your throat. you squeezed your legs together, resisting the urge to touch yourself or better yet, hump yourself against his leg.

his thrusts got faster and faster by the second when he saw how unbothered you were. soon enough, his cock was pistoning in your throat and you just took it, drool spilling out the corners of your lips.

heeseung paused his movements to pull your shirt over your head, exposing your chest to him. he reached down and tweaked your nipples between his thumb and index fingers, fucking up into your mouth again.

“oh my god,” he moaned. “you’re a dream. you’re amazing.”

all you could do was hum around him, unable to speak with your mouth occupied. you brought your hand up and fumbled with his heavy balls, massaging them in your palm.

heeseung threw his head back, suddenly holding your head with your nose pressed to his pelvis. his cock twitched once before you felt the first rope of cum hit the back of your throat, followed by many more streams of his sticky white substance.

he moaned loudly, certainly loud enough that jay and any of the other guys would be able to hear and understand what was going on behind your bedroom door. but now, you didn’t care. his moans sounded angelic and you knew it was a sound you wanted to hear again and again.

he didn’t release his grasp on you until he was completely finished dumping his load down your throat. your scalp tingled from the pain when he finally did let you go, allowing you to come up for air.

you swallowed all his release and took a deep breath, both of you calming down.

“holy fuck,” heeseung muttered in a complete daze.

you laid by his side, smiling to yourself. to be frank, you wanted more, but it seemed like heeseung was done. his eyes were closed, his chest was rising and falling rapidly. you would’ve thought he’d fallen asleep had it not been for his next words.

“come here,” he whispered.

you laid your head on his chest, expecting to fall asleep and leave it at that.

until he said, “wanna keep going?”

-

read part 2 here!

[slmjaeyuns]

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ lee heeseung fics that (bias)wrecked me ₊✮⸜ ༘⋆

all time favourites ♡

(fics contain a combination of genres including fluff, angst, suggestiveness, smut)

♡ not if it’s you (pt.1)

not if it’s you (pt.2)

♡ always been you

♡ flatline

♡ cherry

cherry (pt.2)

cherry (pt.3)

cherry (epilogue)

♡ how to get back at your ex

♡ one hundred and one

fluff + angst ❀

❀ win one win me (f)

❀ open sesame (series ml.) (f)

chapter one - you open his door

chapter two - you realize your mistake

chapter three - you suffer some more

chapter four - you open one more door

chapter five - you leave the door closed

❀ good luck charm (f)

❀ you % heeseung (f)

❀ playful delicacies (f)

❀ we’re dating! (not really) (f)

❀ echoes of riot (a)

❀ us, at the end of the year (a)

❀ prayer for the dying (a)

❀ month of may (a)

june blossoms (f)

❀ maybe love can finally stay (a + f)

❀ second chance at love (a + f, slightly suggestive at the end)

suggestive/smut ☁︎

☁︎ as long as you’ll let me (literally going to tag basically all of their hee fics - check out their work bc they are so *chefs kiss*)

☁︎ you make me

you’ve made me

☁︎ playground crush

☁︎ in case of emergency: break me

☁︎ what you need

☁︎ lost time

☁︎ give it time

first date

☁︎ touch-starved

☁︎ warmth and comfort

☁︎ crush

☁︎ nobody gets me (you do)

☁︎ fiancé for hire (series ml.)

chapter one - put a ring on it

chapter two - kiss me more

chapter three - a modern fairytale

chapter four - midnight rain

chapter five - fiancée for real

epilogue - the wedding

☁︎ predictable predicament

☁︎ conflict of interest

[jaylaxies]

CALL OUT MY NAME

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut (multiple scenes), angst, fluff, porn with plot, down bad hee, switch!hee, lowkey subby hee, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), lots of kissing, cunnilingus, blowjob, dry humping, fingering, sexting, phone sex, mutual masturbation, multiple orgasms, marking, crying. mentions of nicknames, messy feelings, lmk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT: 24.7k words!

SYNOPSIS: Money can’t buy loyalty, and neither can years of friendship. After your boyfriend and your best friend decide to fuck each other behind your back, the only silver lining is Heeseung—the one person who looks as hollow as you feel. It begins as a petty revenge kiss and a no-strings situationship, but what will you do if it slowly turns into something dangerously real?

A/N: hihi loves <3 sorry for the wait, i had to edit a few scenes but here we are now, i hope you guys enjoy the fic, also i love jaem (sorry jaem), moon nics ricey cameo lets gaurrr <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <3

It really was a sight to see. 

Your best friend pressed up against your boyfriend like they’d invented the concept of gravity, her hands shamelessly roaming under the hem of his shirt while his mouth dragged along the line of her neck. 

No shame, not even a flicker of it. To the drunk, sweating crowd around them, it probably just looked like another hazy corner of the party—two bodies tangled in the dim lights, music blasting so loud it swallowed any guilt, if they cared to harbour any that is, but you saw everything.

To be more precise, you found out yesterday when they got bold enough to fuck each other at your boyfriend’s apartment, and oblivious enough to not notice your presence, or your low chuckle at the depravity of the situation. Instead of feeling mad, you felt that bone deep numbness. Why trust anyone at this point?

Emotionally unavailable, the label had never sounded so accurate, but was it truly your fault when you never felt the need to expect anything from him? It certainly was an experience faking your orgasms for him, but you cared on the deeper levels—well, till you found him balls deep inside your now ex best friend. 

So you sat there now on the worn leather couch, legs crossed, drink dangling from your fingers, watching them like it was just another Tuesday night show.

“Oh hey—you’re here! Have you seen Mina?” 

The voice cut through the haze of music and chatter, slightly breathless. You turned your head slowly, lashes lowering just a fraction as your gaze landed on Heeseung.

He stood a few feet away, tall and striking even in the crowd, dark maroon hair tousled like he’d rushed all the way here. His sharp jaw was tense, brows drawn together in mild confusion as he scanned the room. The leather jacket hanging off his broad shoulders caught the shifting lights, and for a moment, you wondered how he’d react to the news of his girlfriend in the arms of his best friend. 

You tilted your head, lips curving into a slow, amused smile that didn’t quite reach your eye, 

“yeah,” you said, voice smooth as you clicked your tongue, “right over there.”

You lifted your glass in a lazy gesture toward the corner, and Heeseung followed your line of sight. The shift in his expression was immediate and downright visceral. His eyes widened, pupils blown with disbelief as he took in the scene of Mina’s leg hooked shamelessly around his best friend’s hip, her mouth pressed to the underside of his jaw while his hands roamed with practiced familiarity. 

The way they moved together spoke of stolen nights and secret touches—months, maybe longer.

“They’re cheating,” you added lightly, almost conversationally, as if commenting on the weather as you took a slow sip from your drink, “bold choice, doing it in plain sight like this. Guess they figured neither of us would actually show up tonight—I mean, I did mention I wouldn’t.”

Heeseung’s adam’s apple bobbed visible, a flash of hurt brewed behind his eyes, before it ignited this anger within him, “what the fuck—” the words slipped out rather hoarse, broken. 

He didn’t really look at you, eyes locked on them as if he couldn’t look away. Before you could say anything else, he was moving, pushing through the dense crowd with single-minded intensity. You watched his retreating back for a moment, that same curiosity curling in your chest. It would’ve been a sight to stay and watch the fireworks, sure, but you just got up. 

You wove through the crowd without hurry, heels clicking softly up the narrow wooden stairs, each step carrying you farther from the mess downstairs.

The upstairs hallway was dimmer, and at the end of it, the balcony door was wide open, letting the night air slip in. You stepped outside, pulling a cigarette from the pack tucked in your jacket, lips closing around it as you flicked your lighter. 

First drag hit deep, filling your lungs with that bitter, familiar burn. You leaned against the railing, letting the smoke curl out slow between your parted lips, eyes half-lidded against the wind tugging at your hair.

For a minute, everything felt almost peaceful, comfortable even, then the door scraped open behind you, and Heeseung stepped out, breathing hard like he’d run the whole way up. His hair was messier now, dark burgundy strands falling into his eyes, and his face—god, his face was a wreck. Eyes glassy with everything he was trying not to feel, cheeks flushed, mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.

Without asking, he closed the distance in two long strides and plucked it right from your lips.

A surprised little chuckle slipped out of you before you could stop it, and you observed how he took a deep, shaky drag from where your lipstick had stained the cigarette, holding it in for long before he blew the smoke up toward the dark sky. His free hand gripped the railing tight enough that his knuckles went white. 

“Fucking hell,” he rasped, voice rough, “how long? Just—tell me how long they’ve been doing this behind our backs.”

“Since at least yesterday,” you said, “I walked in on them fucking in his dorm, didn’t even have the decency to lock the door,” a faint smile ghosted your lips, “I just closed it again and left.”

Heeseung’s head turned toward you slowly, eyes wide with shock, the cigarette nearly slipping from his fingers, “you saw them and didn’t say shit?”

You shrugged, “what was there to say? They wanted each other, and I’ve never been the type to drown myself that deeply anyway. It just felt odd to see Mina do it, that part did affect me, years of friendship drowned for what? A guy.”

Heeseung let out a disbelieving huff, running a hand through his already tousled hair, “Jaemin was my best friend, man. We’ve been tight since freshman year—shared everything. And now this?” His voice cracked slightly, “feels like a fucking knife in the back from both sides. They looked guilty for a second but didn’t even bother following me here to explain themselves, though they did have the audacity to ask me not to tell you.”

You studied him for a moment through his ramble, the way the balcony light cast sharp shadows across his sharp jaw and the pained lines around his eyes. He looked devastatingly undone, yet there was something resilient in the way he stood there, refusing to crumble completely. The sight stirred a spark in your chest—that familiar free-spirited curiosity. 

You passed the cigarette back to him after a puff, “people reveal their true colors eventually. It’s pragmatic to accept it and keep moving instead of letting it rot you from the inside.”

Silence stretched between you, thick with shared betrayal. Heeseung took another drag, then offered it back, his gaze lingering on your face with astute observation, like he was trying to peel back the layers of your calm detachment, he just couldn’t understand how you seemed so—unaffected?

You crushed the cigarette against the railing and flicked it into the night. That proactive restlessness bloomed brighter inside you, eyes gleaming with mischievous insight.

“Wanna do something fun?” You asked. 

Heeseung blinked, lips parting in surprise, “fun? Like right now?”

“Mhm,” you stepped closer, “are you okay with a kiss, Heeseung?”

His breath hitched audibly, throat bobbing, “a—a kiss?” The word came out hoarse, almost stunned. His gaze dropped to your mouth, lingering, before snapping back up, cheeks flushing darker, “you serious?”

“Very,” you held his stare, “yes or no?”

“Isn’t that cheating?” He looked devastatingly clueless even mumbling that question, and you raised your brow. 

“Yes or no?” You asked again. 

He searched your face, the raw pain still churning, but something hungrier kindled beneath it—curiosity. After a beat, he gave one slow nod making you chuckle.

You took his hand and led him back down into the party’s suffocating crowd, and he followed without asking any questions. In the corner, Jaemin and Mina were still shamelessly entangled, her arms looped around his neck, his hands possessive on her hips.

You stepped straight into their space without hesitation, grabbing Jaemin’s arm to pull him back. 

The sharp crack of your palm across Jaemin’s cheek echoed through the room, his head whipped sideways. Mina stumbled back with a gasp as the crowd around you froze, then erupted in murmurs and the bright flare of phone screens.

“What the fuck?” Jaemin snarled, clutching his reddening face, eyes blazing the instant recognition hit, “w—wait, Y/N?” 

Mina’s face drained of color, “we—we didn’t think you would show up tonight—”

You desperately wanted to laugh, but you maintained your character, cause how were they dumb enough to think that you wouldn’t find out, especially when Heeseung did too. 

“Clearly,” you said, getting ready to lie beautifully, “Heeseung told me everything. How long have you two been fucking behind our backs?”

Whispers exploded outward. Jaemin fumbled for excuses, mouth opening uselessly.

“I didn’t expect this from you Mina,” you mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek as tears started forming in her eyes.

“No—listen to me, we didn’t—”

“Whatever,” you continued, a crystalline laugh escaping you, “be happy with each other, I’ll find someone better.”

You turned away from their frozen faces, and Heeseung stood right there, looking completely wrecked. Your eyes met his, like really met them. For a second everything else including the stares, the phones, the bass—faded into background noise.

He looked at you like you were the only person left in the room, and maybe to him, you were. 

You stepped in close, sliding your hands up his chest. His heart was pounding under your palms, doe eyes full of trust and anticipation for what was to come. Heeseung’s breath caught, but he didn’t move away. His hands found your waist almost on instinct, fingers spreading wide and warm through your clothes, before pressing in to hold on tighter. 

His gaze dropped to your mouth before flicking back up, nodding slightly as he understood the question you asked him earlier. 

Which is why you tilted your head and kissed him.

You slotted your lips against his rather softly, just to test him at first. His mouth was warm, faintly tasting of smoke and the drink he’d had earlier. He froze for half a second, stunned at the easiness of it all, then let out this quiet, broken sound against your lips and kissed you back. 

The kiss turned deeper fast, hungrier. Your tongue brushed his and he groaned low in his throat, the vibration rolling straight through you. You slid one hand into his hair, tugging lightly at the strands, while the other stayed fisted in his jacket, pulling him closer. Heeseung’s grip on your waist tightened almost painfully so, one arm wrapping further around your back to press you flush against him. His chest rose and fell hard against yours. You could feel every shaky breath, the way his fingers trembled just slightly where they dug into your sides.

It was messy, a little desperate. Tongues sliding, breaths mixing hot and uneven, the faint wet sound of it somehow louder than the music behind. He kissed like he was pouring every bit of hurt and anger and sudden want into you as you took it all, giving the same right back.

When you finally pulled back just enough to breathe, Heeseung was completely gone. Lips swollen and shiny, chest heaving like he couldn’t catch his breath, eyes dark and hazy like his brain had short-circuited. A wrecked little sound slipped out of him, half-gasp, half-groan—as he stared at you, dazed and breathing hard.

Your smile embodied satisfaction as you leaned in again and pressed one slow, teasing peck to his parted lips, letting it linger just enough to make his breath hitch all over again.

Jaemin and Mina were staring like they’d seen a ghost with their jaws dropped, faces pale, eyes wide with pure disbelief. The whole party had gone dead quiet around you, everyone watching, phones still pointed your way like this was the best drama they’d seen all year (it probably was).

You laced your fingers with Heeseung’s, gave his hand a light squeeze, and tugged him toward the door.

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmured close to his ear, voice low and a little playful against his skin.

Heeseung didn’t argue, just followed, still breathing hard, fingers gripping yours tight as the door swung shut behind you. 

The cool night air hit your heated skin, and for the first time tonight, everything felt wide open again.

A rather loud screech right next to your left ear woke you up, and you wondered if the world had somehow been corrupted by zombies because there’s no other explanation for such sounds, but your friend made it possible somehow. 

You jolted, heart kicking once before your brain caught up. Sunoo was practically jumping beside your bed, phone in his hand, “one time—one single time I decide to stay in and catch up on sleep and you create a fucking scene? Gosh, babe.”

Winter shoved the door the rest of the way open with her shoulder, hoodie sleeves pushed up to her elbows, hair still a wild mess from her deep sleep. She planted herself at the foot of your bed, arms crossed, eyes narrowing at you, “fuck, Y/N,” she said before her tone got softer, “are you okay? I fucking knew that girl was a snake from the first time she came over. And your boyfriend? I always hated him, al-fucking-ways.”

You were still blinking, eyes half open and not willing to adjust to the brightness. Right then, a chuckle escaped your lips at the memory of last night—and you tried to remember the last time you felt so satisfied (maybe never?). 

Sunoo dropped onto the edge of your mattress without waiting, “I always said we are your besties. The kind who’d help you hide a body, no questions asked. Ride or die, baby.”

You sat up straight, blanket pooling around your waist, and opened your arms because of course they were right, “come here, idiots.”

They didn’t hesitate, Winter climbing on first, wrapping her arms around you like she could shield you from the whole damn world. Sunoo piled on top a second later, all limbs and very dramatic sighs, squishing the three of you into a tangled heap of familiar warmth. 

“Yeah,” you murmured into Sunoo’s shoulder, voice muffled, “you two are stuck with me.”

Winter huffed a soft laugh against your neck, “good, because we’re not letting you deal with that snake ex-bestie and cheating ex-boyfriend shit alone. We’re burning that chapter together.”

Sunoo’s voice came out muffled too, “and—we’re keeping the video forever, that kiss looked cozy girl, what else did you do—”

You let yourself sink into the warmth for a long moment, the bone-deep numbness from yesterday easing just enough to let something real and grateful slip through. The sting of Mina’s betrayal was still there, but it felt distant now—almost coherent in its simplicity. 

People drift apart, friendships end. You’d always known that. What intrigued you more was how easily these two could make the weight feel lighter, their amiable chaos wrapping around you like a promise that some things indeed were here to stay. 

Meanwhile, Heeseung was suffering. 

Jay had shoved his phone into Heeseung’s face, close enough for him to make out, uh, absolutely nothing. It seemed like a blurry mess of lights until Jay yanked it back to show Heeseung a pixel version of you grabbing his jacket and pulling him into what appeared to be a passionate kiss. 

The angle caught the exact moment his hands found your waist, the way his shoulders had tensed then eased up all at once. Heeseung’s ears burned red so fast it felt like someone had lit a match under his skin.

“Bro,” Jay said, grinning, “the video is everywhere, especially on the uni insta page for students. Someone made it into a trend—it’s actually insane.”

Before Heeseung could even form a coherent thought, the bedroom door slammed open hard enough to rattle the frame, scaring both the boys. 

Jake came barreling in, hair still sticking up from sleep, eyes wild, “you bitch—you kissed Y/N? She’s mine—I called dibs on her months ago!”

Heeseung groaned, dragging both hands down his face, “she’s not an object, Jake.”

“Oh fuck you—you know I like her,” Jake shot back, dropping on his knees. 

Sunghoon strolled in next, casual as ever, one shoulder propped against the wall. He let out a low whistle and Heeseung wondered what the fuck is wrong with his friends, “so you’re what? Dating now? That was one hell of a plot twist.”

Jay sniggered, not even trying to hide it, “nah dude, you think he can handle someone like Y/N?”

Jake tried to butt in again, “I can—” but the rest of them talked right over him like usual.

Heeseung sat up slowly, the full reminder of the last night coming right back to him. The slap echoing through the room, the way you’d looked at him right before you kissed him, eyes bright with that reckless spark. The way he’d kissed you back like he enjoyed it. He swallowed hard, throat tight.

“Did I cheat on Mina?” He asked quietly.

The room went still for half a second, all three of them looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Jay let out a disbelieving laugh, “she cheated on you while you were still together.”

“Yeah but I kissed someone else literally a few minutes later—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sunghoon cut in, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Heeseung stared at the blanket pooled over his lap, replaying the kiss again—the heat of your mouth, the way your fingers had twisted in his hair, that soft, teasing peck you pressed to his lips after. It had been the best kiss he’d ever had. The whole situation felt far too complicated for the simple labels his friends were throwing arounf, and yet he couldn’t stop the memory from looping behind his eyes.

Jay sighed, softer this time, leaning back on his elbows, “did it feel good?”

They all looked at him. Heeseung didn’t answer right away, he just swallowed again, the memory burning behind his eyes like it refused to fade.

You on the other hand were absolutely not functioning when Sunoo had a trillion questions lined up for you—all of which consisted of Heeseung. You three had just managed to make coffees when the loud knock interrupted you. A sigh was all you could manage as you opened the door to find your pathetic excuse of an ex standing there with—roses? Wow, he didn’t even have the decency to remember that you were allergic. 

He spoke up before you could, “I know i deserved that slap.”

Well, obviously. 

“I messed up—I swear I don’t want her.” He was looking at you with that pout he mustered whenever you both had disagreements. 

You bit down your laugh, “yeah? So?”

“Take me back, baby, please?”

Right then someone flew past the door, and your mouth hung open as Sunoo straight up landed a kick on Jaemin’s thigh, resulting in him falling down with pain. Now, you laughed freely as Sunoo bent down to warn him, “stay away from her, okay?”

Jaemin turned to look at you, eyes wide, “what—”

“You heard him, we’re over, Jaemin,” you shrugged, wrapping your arm around Sunoo as you both walked inside, Sunoo glaring at man till the door closed shut. 

Jaemin stayed on the ground for a few more seconds, roses scattered around him, a thorn making him bleed just enough for him to roll his eyes.

That went well.

The afternoon sun filtered softly through the leaves of the uni garden, casting dappled shadows across the wooden bench where you sat. It had been three days since the party, and the campus still hadn’t let either of you forget it. Random students kept approaching you in the hallways, the library, even the coffee line—some offering awkward condolences, others straight-up calling the slap and the kiss badass with wide-eyed admiration. 

You sipped your mango matcha slowly, the garden was quiet now, just the distant hum of students walking between buildings and the soft rustle of leaves overhead. You felt normal, jolly even, like it hadn’t affected you, but even you couldn’t deny how good of a kiss it had been. 

Too lost in the pdf in your iPad, you didn’t notice Heeseung approaching until his shadow fell across your lap. He stopped a few feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, hair still slightly messy and he somehow made it look good.

“Hey,” he said, voice polite as it had always been, “can we talk?”

You looked up, lips curving into an amiable smile, “sure, c’mere sit,” you patted the empty space beside you on the bench and held out your mango matcha toward him, “want some? It’s good.”

Heeseung only cocked his brow, “same straw?”

You blinked innocently, “you’re saying that as if we didn’t make out in front of the entire party three days ago.”

He stared at you for a moment, intrigued cause of your carefree answer, before he reached out and took the cup anyway. He drank without hesitation, the straw brushing his lips where yours had been moments ago, and when he lowered it, the corner of his mouth twitched.

You chuckled, watching the way his shoulders loosened just a fraction, “so—talk, what’s on your mind, Heeseung?”

He handed the cup back, fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary, “I’ve been thinking about that night. A lot.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but his eyes stayed on yours, “the kiss, the way you just handled everything. I keep replaying it and I can’t make it make sense.”

You tilted your head, taking another slow sip before answering, “what’s there to make sense of? They cheated, we both saw it. I decided not to let it ruin my night and you were there. The kiss happened—simple.”

He let out a short, disbelieving breath, running a hand through his hair, “It’s not simple for me. Mina was my girlfriend, Jaemin was my best friend since freshman year. And so much happened in like—an hour,” he paused, eyes searching your face, “did it really not mess with you at all?”

You shrugged, “It stung a little actually. Losing Mina as a friend after all those years felt kinda—odd? But drowning in it? Not really my thing.” Your lips curved again, “i’ve never been the type to hand my whole heart over and expect it to stay put.”

Heeseung watched you for a long moment, “you make it sound so coherent,” he muttered, almost to himself, “like it’s all just—logical. Meanwhile I’ve been walking around campus getting stopped by random people asking if we’re together now. It’s been three days and I still feel like my head’s spinning.”

You laughed lightly, “same here, a guy offered to buy me coffee because I deserved better, It’s weirdly entertaining.”

Heeseung’s mouth twitched into a half-smile, the first real one you’d seen from him today, “yeah, even my friend Jake was sort of, how do I even put it? But yeah, he wasn’t thrilled, hes got some crush on you.” 

Your eyes sparkled, “wait, isn’t he the cute one with an accent? I like him.”

He shook his head at how you would probably encourage Jake, the thought was rather unsettling, then looked at you again, more serious, “but, y’know—the kiss, that part wasn’t just for show.”

That made you pause for a moment, and you held his gaze, intrigued by the way he was looking at you—like he was trying to figure out how someone could be so calm in the middle of the wreckage.

“So what are you saying?” You asked, voice soft but direct, “you regret it?”

“No,” he answered almost immediately, “I don’t regret it, that’s the problem. It felt good and I keep wondering what the hell that means when everything else is such a mess.”

You leaned back against the bench, letting the sun warm your face for a second, “it doesn’t have to mean anything big, I mean—we both got screwed over.” You watched how pretty he looked under the sunlight, lips slightly red cause he’d been biting them, “maybe we don’t overthink it. Maybe we just—just see where it goes.”

Heeseung took the cup again, fingers brushing yours once more, and this time he didn’t pull away right away, “you’re really okay with that?”

You smiled, “I’m okay with a lot of things, Heeseung. Especially if they feel good.”

Neither of you said anything more for a moment. The conversation didn’t need to be solved today, for now, sitting here with him, sharing the same straw and the same tension, felt like enough.

Heeseung has always been a man of few words, but even those little words seemed to disappear when you were around. And the worst part? You weren’t even aware of it.

You weren’t the one to intrude on anyone’s personal space, and that included Heeseung, much to his relief (or dismay?), he was just—confused.

A week had slipped by since the garden talk, and the quiet tension between you two had only grown heavier. He’d spent the days avoiding Mina’s messages, the knot in his chest tightening every time her name appeared. But you—you were everywhere. In literature class you sat three rows ahead, never together, but he stared. He couldn’t stop noticing the way the light caught the curve of your neck when you leaned over your notes, the soft way your fingers tapped the edge of your pen, the small, absent smile that played on your lips when something in the lecture amused you. Every stolen glance left him more tangled than the last.

Tonight the restlessness had won. He pulled on a hoodie and walked to the 24-hour convenience store near the dorms, craving something mindless like his ride or die—ramen to quiet the noise in his head.

The annoyingly white lights buzzed overhead as he stepped inside, grabbing a basket and turning down the snack aisle, mind still half-lost in yesterday’s class when you’d stretched and your shirt had ridden up just enough to—

He stopped just then, cause you were right there,

standing in the middle of the aisle in soft pink pajama shorts that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs and a matching oversized hoodie that had slipped off one shoulder, you looked unfairly soft and warm, like you’d just rolled out of bed. Your hair was a little messy, and you were reaching up for a pack of strawberry gummies, the hem of the shorts riding higher with the movement.

Heeseung’s mouth went dry, and he wanted to slap himself for acting like a fucking creep.

You turned at the sound of his footsteps, eyes meeting his across the narrow aisle. A slow smile curved your lips, the same one that had been haunting him for days.

“Hey,” you waved at him, like running into each other at midnight in pajamas was the most normal thing in the world, “couldn’t sleep either?”

Heeseung swallowed, stepping closer despite the way his pulse kicked up. The faint scent of your shampoo clinging to your hair, “needed ramen, the boys emptied the fridge I swear,” he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

You nodded in understanding, “same lowkey—was staring at the ceiling but then decided to get out.” You tilted your head, looking at him a little closer, eyes tracing the tired lines on his face, “you look like you’ve got a lot going on up there. Want to talk about it while we walk back?”

Heeseung hesitated for half a second, then nodded, “yeah, sounds good.”

You paid for your stuff together, the cashier barely glancing up, and stepped back out into the cool night air. The walk was easy at first, with absolutely no words being exchanged, your shoulders brushed every few steps, Heeseung kept his hands in his pockets, but he could feel the warmth of you next to him, the soft brush of your hoodie sleeve against his every time you shifted.

“Been a week,” he said after a few minutes, “Mina keeps texting, and of course I haven’t answered. It feels weird ignoring her, but answering would feel worse.”

You hummed, glancing at him sideways, “I get that. Sometimes the easiest thing is just to let it sit there until it stops stinging, y’know?” Your arm bumped his again as you walked, and you didn’t pull away, “you holding up okay with all of it?”

He just nodded, granting you a smile which made the corner of your lips lift up too, and he asked you the same, to which you laughed as if nothing had even happened. 

It was so nice just walking beside you, even in silence, at this cursed hour of midnight, though Heeseung would argue and say that he felt more awake now than he did the whole day. 

The dorm buildings came into view too soon, but then Heeseung saw something that made his steps falter on the pavement, body going rigid right beside you. It made you follow his line of sight, and of course—Mina was there, walking straight towards his building, head down and mind completely focused on her phone. She hadn’t noticed you yet, but it was clear that she was going to approach Heeseung. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, panic flashing across his features in a way you could feel it reach you too.

Before you could provide him with two words of comfort, his hand slid around your waist, fingers spreading wide and warm through the thin fabric of your hoodie. He pulled you in close, so close that your side pressed flush against his, the heat of his body juxtaposing the chill of the air. His palm was steady but his fingers trembled a little against your hip as you caught the faint scent of his cologne, it was clean and woody, just how you liked it. 

“Play along, please?” He whispered urgently against your ear, voice rougher now.

You only chuckled, leaning into him as if you’d done it before, slipping your arm around his back, fingers resting lightly against the small of his back. Your head tilted up towards him, a soft smile curving up as you looked at him. Heeseung was flushed cause, damn were you good at acting. 

“Got it,” you murmured back.

Mina looked up at the exact moment, eyes widened at the sight, a gasp leaving her lips as she watched Heeseung’s hand slide lower on your back as you reached his dorm door.

You didn’t even realize you were biting your bottom lip until Heeseung’s gaze dropped straight to it, his breath hitched, thumb pausing on your cheek as his other hand came up to cup your face, warm palms cradling your jaw like he was afraid you might pull away.

“Can I?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes searching yours.

You didn’t answer, just leaned in, closing the small gap between you, and pulled him into the kiss.

Your lips met his softly at first and Heeseung made a quiet sound against your mouth, his hands cupping your face fully now, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek as he kissed you back. The taste of him was faint, a hint of the cherry juice he must have had earlier. Your own hands slid up his chest, fisting lightly in his hoodie as you tilted your head to kiss him a little deeper.

When you finally pulled back, Heeseung’s eyes were dark and a little dazed, lips parted and cheeks flushed. His thumbs were still stroking your cheeks, reluctant to let go.

Mina stood frozen a few feet away, face pale, cause she swore to herself it was an act, but this? It didn’t seem like one. 

Heeseung didn’t look at her, just tightening his grip on your waist and guided you through the door, pulling you inside with him. The warmth of his palm stayed glued to the small of your back the whole way, steady now, like he needed the contact to stay grounded.

Inside the apartment, Jake was sprawled on the couch in the living room, a half-eaten pizza box open on the coffee table, some mindless show playing low on the TV. He froze mid-bite when he saw you, eyes going wide.

You smiled, bright and completely at ease, like showing up at this hour with Heeseung’s arm still around you was the most normal thing in the world, “oh—hey. Jake, right?”

“Y/N? Uh yes—hi, you’re here?” Jake stuttered, making Hee roll his eyes.

You just walked over to him, dropping onto the couch beside him acting all normal though your heartbeat said otherwise, “yeah! Mind if I steal a bite?”

Jake blinked, then grinned like an idiot and lifted the slice he was holding right to your mouth, “here, go for it.”

You leaned in and took a bite straight from his hand, cheese stretching between your fingers as you chewed, “mhm, this is actually good, thanks.”

Jake’s face lit up even more, “right? You can have the whole slice if you want.”

Heeseung stood there watching the whole thing, jaw tight. He lasted about five seconds before he groaned low in his throat, “alright, that’s enough.” He crossed the room in two quick strides, caught your wrist gently but firmly, and tugged you up from the couch, “c’mon.”

You let him pull you up, giving Jake a little wave over your shoulder, “night, Jakey. Thanks for the pizza.”

Jake just waved back, still grinning, “anytime!”

The second Heeseung’s door clicked shut behind you, silence filled the room—it was dim, lit only by the desk lamp, the air suddenly too warm and too small. Heeseung’s back pressed against the door, eyes dark and fixed on you before he walked over and plopped on his bed. 

You clicked your tongue, tilting your head at him, “now she’s gonna think we’re dating.”

Heeseung rubbed a hand over his face, looking genuinely sorry, “yeah—I know. I’m so sorry—I just panicked and pulled you into this whole thing. You didn’t have to go along with it.”

You shrugged, stepping closer until you were right in front of him. Then, without warning, you turned and sat right down on his lap, straddling his thighs like it was the most natural thing in the world. Heeseung’s breath caught, hands instinctively landing on your hips to steady you, eyes wide with surprise.

“I did kiss you first at the party,” you said, “so it’s kinda my fault too.”

Heeseung’s fingers flexed on your hips, holding you there. He gulped, throat bobbing visibly as he looked up at you, “so, now what?” he asked, voice rough.

You shrugged again, still sitting comfortably on his lap, fingers playing with the collar of his hoodie, “it’s your call, Hee.”

You kept talking as Heeseung pondered deeply about his choices. He didn’t register you saying something about how Jake’s face was priceless because Heeseung wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes had dropped to the exposed line of your clavicle where your hoodie had slipped down, tracing the smooth skin there, then moving up to your lips—still a little shiny from the greasy pizza, slightly parted as you spoke. The way you were sitting on him, the soft weight of you on his thighs—it was too stimulating for him. 

He didn’t say anything, just leaned in and kissed you hard, mouth practically crashing into yours, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, the other staying firm on your hip to keep you right where you were. There was nothing hesitant about it this time—it was hungry, deep. His tongue brushed yours, and he groaned quietly into the kiss, the sound vibrating against your lips. You could feel the way his fingers tightened in your hair, the way his chest rose and fell fast against yours, the way his body reacted instantly to having you on his lap like this.

You kissed him back just as hard, hands sliding up his chest to fist in his hoodie. A soft moan slipped out of you when he sucked on your bottom lip, and Heeseung made this low, wrecked sound in response, hips shifting under you.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your mouth, barely pulling back, “this okay? Tell me if you want to stop.”

You shook your head, lips brushing his as you answered, voice already breathy, “don’t stop—keep going.”

He groaned and kissed you harder, tongue sliding against yours as one hand slid under your hoodie, palm warm on your bare back. You rocked your hips down against him and he moaned into your mouth, the sound raw.

You pulled back just enough to speak, forehead resting against his, “we doing this then?” You breathed against his lips, “no strings, just whenever we want or need?”

Heeseung swore you could read minds, “yeah,” he sighed in pleasure, “I want that—you and me, no strings.”

You smiled against his lips and kissed him again, deeper, grinding down slowly, “good fucking boy.”

He groaned louder, the sound vibrating through you as his fingers dug into your thighs, “shit—I’ve been so fucking pent up,” he muttered between kisses, hips rolling up to meet yours, “all week because of you.”

You moaned softly, rocking against him again with a chuckle, “that’s adorable, keep going, yeah? Don’t stop.”

He flipped you suddenly, laying you on your back and settling between your thighs. The new position made you both moan—the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, lips chasing yours mindlessly as his tongue slid against yours, hand tracing higher under your hoodie, hips grinding down slowly. 

“God, you feel good,” he muttered, pulling you down for another kiss.

You nodded, moaning softly into his mouth, “so do you.”

The room filled with the sounds of lips, heavy breathing, and quiet moans as you kept moving together, hands roaming, bodies pressing closer. The conversation faded into breathy words and soft sounds between kisses, and honestly, both of you didn’t care about much anymore. You both were just two horny adults functioning on a verbal agreement with no rules whatsoever. 

Outside in the living room, Jake had just taken another bite of pizza when the first loud moan drifted through the door. His eyes widened with betrayal—the slice slipping from his fingers and landed cheese-side down on the floor with a pathetic splat.

He stared at the closed door for a long second, mouth still full.

“Well—shit.”

You didn’t know that the consequences of spending one night with Heeseung could be so dire, granted you didn’t go beyond some innocent humping which bestowed you with the absolute pleasure of seeing Heeseung desperate and flushed underneath you. 

The question bugged you—why would Mina even wish to leave such a beautiful man who’s very willing to provide pleasure? 

You were still turning that over in your head as you walked down the hallway, iPad tucked under your arm, one AirPod in, but your mind was elsewhere—which was odd considering you never were the kind to just stand and ponder about random things, during the day time at least. The last time it happened was when you were a kid and Zayn had left One direction. 

Regardless, you chuckled at the idea of Heeseung being the one to garner your attention, since you never saw him in that light before—something about friends’ partners being inanimate to you. Either way, you started walking back towards your dorm since the lectures were over, only to be stopped by Mina blocking your path with a scowl on her face. 

You raised an eyebrow, “hey?” 

“We need to talk,” she huffed, looking rather tired, maybe with the way people stopped the second they sensed any drama, and why wouldn’t they? You both were the centre of it given the circumstances. 

“Do we really?” You gave her a lazy look, knowing well it bothered her. 

Her jaw clenched. “You kissed Heeseung. In front of everyone. While he was still with me.”

A couple more heads turned. You could feel eyes on you now, phones probably already sliding out of pockets.

You let out a short breath, almost a laugh, “while he was still with you? That’s rich. Last time I checked, you were the one fucking my boyfriend in his dorm with the door wide open. I walked in on you two, actually. So maybe don’t lecture me about cheating.”

Mina’s cheeks flushed, “that’s not the same—”

“It kind of is,” you cut in, keeping your voice even, “Heeseung didn’t deserve to find out like that, neither of us did, but at least I didn’t sneak around for months like a coward. And yeah, I kissed him—I’d do it again. He’s too good for the way you two treated him.”

Mina’s eyes flashed with anger, “you’re no better than me. You basically cheated too—”

“Bro, are you actually serious right now?”

A tall guy with messy black hair and a skateboard tucked under his arm stepped out from the edge of the crowd. You’d seen him around in a couple electives. He looked Mina up and down, completely unimpressed, having seen the scene at the party in flesh too. 

“Everyone’s seen the video,” he said, loud enough that the people nearby nodded, “I literally saw you and Jaemin at the party. You’re the one who cheated, leave her alone.”

A girl a few feet away nodded like she agreed. Mina glanced around at all the stares, lips pressed tight, then spun on her heel and shoved through the crowd, practically running toward the exit.

You let out a real laugh this time, almost like you couldn’t believe this was real, that your own friend would turn against you in such a manner. Riki turned to you, one corner of his mouth lifting.

“Damn,” he said, “that was satisfying.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, still chuckling as you started walking again, “thanks for stepping in. You really didn’t have to.”

He shrugged, falling into step beside you, “she’s been trying to change the perception, i saw her lying to my friend earlier. Someone had to say it. I’m Riki by the way, or Ni-ki, whatever.”

“Y/N,” you said, bumping his shoulder lightly, “seriously, I owe you a coffee for that.”

“Bet,” he smirked, already pulling his phone out, “just text me whenever. I’m free most afternoons.”

Ten feet away, half-hidden behind a cluster of students, Heeseung had stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. Jay almost walked straight into his back, headphones on so conveniently, he missed the whole commotion. 

“You good?” He asked, lifting one side of his headphones, “Heeseung?” He asked yet again when he didn’t get a reply. 

How would he? When Heeseung was deep in thoughts, the tips of his ears red. Everyone knew he was the guy who kept to himself, not the kind to insert himself into a fight—eventually leading to him never getting into a situation where he’d have to defend himself. 

But you did it so naturally with not a single hint of him witnessing the scene. It was heartwarming to say the least, the way you defended him so casually but your tone clearly portraying the care you harboured for him, even if it was little (as per Heeseung and his never ending self doubt). 

Before Jay could wave a hand in front of his face, Jake came barreling around the corner like he was late for everything in life, backpack slipping off one shoulder. Without missing a beat he lunged forward, locking an arm around Heeseung’s neck and yanking him down into a tight headlock. 

“Spill it right now—the hell did you do with Y/N last night, huh? I’m not letting go till you talk, dude, I swear to god—”

Much to his dismay, Heeseung pushed him off with ease, “the fuck? Get off,” he said, staring at Jake who looked like he hadn’t slept at all. 

Jay was completely lost, headphones now resting on his neck, “what am I missing here exactly? What even happened?”

Heeseung groaned, “nothing happened—” 

“Nah, he took Y/N to his room and then I heard moans. Moans—do you fucking get it? He’s actually fucking her.” Jake ranted, eyes blown wide. 

Jay’s eyebrows shot up, “wait, what? For real?”

Heeseung shoved Jake off properly this time, cheeks burning as he fixed his hoodie, “It’s not—fuck, can you not yell that in the middle of the hallway?”

Jake threw his hands up, looking genuinely offended, “I’m sorry, I was trying to eat pizza and process the fact that my dream girl was getting railed by my roommate. You could’ve at least given me a heads-up, man.”

Jay let out a low whistle, finally catching on. He crossed his arms, which had gotten muscular somehow, “so, you and Y/N? Like, actually?”

Heeseung rubbed a hand over his face, ears still red, “we have an arrangement of sorts. No strings attached, that’s it.”

Jake stared at him like he’d been shot in the chest, “no strings? She deserves love, she deserves aftercare and pampering and—”

Jay was never good at hiding his amusement, especially if it consisted of embarrassing one of his friends, “you sure you can actually do the no-strings thing? You’re the guy who gets attached after one good conversation. Remember that girl from school who just smiled at you in the library and you were googling how to ask someone on a date at two a.m.?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Heeseung muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched with his mind drifting back to you. 

Jake however, wasn’t done. He threw his hands up again, “I’m serious, I even fucking dropped the pizza slice she ate from.”

Jay snorted, “you’re never gonna let that go noq, are you?”

“Never,” Jake said, dead serious, “that could’ve been our indirect kiss.”

Heeseung shook his head, finally starting to walk again so they wouldn’t be late for class, “It’s fine. We’re both adults, it’ll be okay.”

Jay fell into step beside him, clapping him on the back a little too hard, “yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, I give it ten days before you’re buying her flowers and writing her name in your notes with hearts around it.”

“Two weeks,” Jake corrected, still sulking, “max.”

Heeseung didn’t bother arguing. He just shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and kept walking, the stupid little smile refusing to leave his face completely.

You, meanwhile, had no idea any of that chaos had just exploded behind you. You groaned, sitting down on the couch, despising the silence that greeted you. Winter had gone to her family home for her cousin’s wedding, and Sunoo had conveniently decided to spend the night over at Hoon’s to torture him with some horror movie. 

And you were here, unsure of what to do tonight, and the newfound interest you’d found within your ex’s best friend. 

Whatever this was, it was definitely going to be interesting.

Turns out, the night wasn’t about to be boring at all. You had just gotten under the warmth of your duvet as your phone lit up, a text brightening your lock screen. Evidently, you seemed to be lurking in Heeseung’s mind as much as he had started persisting in yours. 

Heeseung: you up?  You: that’s such a fuckboy question  Heeseung: oh shit i didnt mean it that way You: hm? what’s it then  Heeseung: js felt like texting 

You clicked your tongue, rolling to your side, phone propped up against your fluffy pink pillow. 

You: mhm sure You: what are you doing rn then

The typing bubble popped up, disappeared, then popped up again—a proper reminder of how Heeseung’s personality shone through even through his texting patterns. 

Heeseung: just lying in bed Heeseung: can’t sleep for some reason

A second later your phone vibrated with a picture, a selfie to be precise. It was rather cinematic how Heeseung appeared to look even prettier with dim lights, messy dark hair falling into his eyes, no shirt, just the chain he always wore catching the light. He looked way too good for someone who was just lying in bed, lips slightly parted and swollen like he’d been biting them. The angle showed the sharp line of his collarbone and that adam’s apple, a few marks evident on his skin, courtesy of you. 

You stared for a second longer than you meant to, completely zoned in how beautiful a few marks made him look. 

You: oh wow  You: don’t you look dashing at one in the morning 

Heeseung only let out a breathy laugh, clearly preening under your praise, as if he hadn’t clicked eight pictures just so he could send you the most perfect one, in his standards at least. 

Heeseung: your turn 

The corner of your lip twitched up as you sat a little, tugged the neckline of your oversized tee down just enough so the soft swell of your tits spilled over the fabric, nipples barely hidden. You angled the camera, snapped it, and hit send without overthinking, knowing that the reply would come within seconds, and so it did. 

Heeseung: fuck Heeseung: you’re actually evil

You laughed under your breath and sent another one right after, taking off your tee fully, letting him know how hard your nipples had gotten already. 

You: now you. don’t be shy baby

Heeseung sent back a shot of his hand shoved down his sweats, gripping himself. The outline was obvious, the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband, flushed and already leaking. Then another one—his hand mid-stroke, thumb smearing the precum over the head. A low, rather shaky breath left his lips in the process, and he swore he hadn’t ever been the type to be so—so evidently horny before. 

You’d say you bring out the worst in people, but Heeseung would contradict it with a goofy smile saying how it’s the absolute best. With that thought, he hit sent. 

Heeseung: this is what you do to me

Your mouth went dry, the picture being enough for you to spread your legs under the duvet, only to push the duvet away entirely before angling your phone properly to ensure the slick on your cunt would be visible in the picture. 

You: see what you’re missing? Heeseung: jesus christ i’m actually throbbing

You bit down on your bottom lip, absolutely letting the pleasure of having Heeseung in control take over. So, instead of texting back, you tapped the voice message button and held it down.

Your voice came through low and teasing, a little breathy already.

“Aw, poor baby, you’re throbbing just from a picture? C’mon, lemme hear how good it feels, hm?”

You sent it without thinking twice, and he was quick to listen, his dick twitching just as he heard your voice. A few seconds later his voice message came back—husky, a little embarrassed, but clearly turned on. 

“Fuck—you’re so mean,” he whispered, which almost came out as a whine, “I’m so hard it hurts. I’m stroking it slow at first, like this—” You could hear the faint, wet sound of his hand moving, “but I keep thinking about how wet you looked in that last pic. Want my mouth on you so bad right now.”

You caressed your clit gently, letting your head fall back at his not so shy admissions. It was hot how he didn’t shy away from speaking his mind. 

“Hmm, good boy—keep stroking just like that. Faster now, I want to hear how desperate you sound for me. Tell me exactly what you’d do if you were here.”

His next voice message was even shakier, breathing heavier.

“I’d pull you on top of me, let you grind on my cock while you tell me how you want it. Fuck—I’d let you use me however you want. I’d suck on your tits while you ride me, make you moan my name louder, please take my name, please?”

You let out a soft, breathy moan right into your reply.

“Yeah? You like when I boss you around, Heeseung? Touch yourself exactly how I would. Tighten your grip—I know you’re close already, aren’t you?”

Heeseung’s voice cracked in the next voice note, barely above a whisper.

“Shit—yeah, I’m so close, your voice is driving me insane. Ah, fuck, wanna bury my face between your thighs right now—”

You were breathing harder too, fingers moving faster. You sent one last voice message, letting your voice be sultry. 

“Then cum for me, Hee. Let me hear it. I want you moaning my name when you do.”

That did it for him, he could barely even keep the phone in his hand, shivering at the hyper awareness of it all, of you. 

Somehow, you knew exactly the predicament he was undergoing, and you decided to spare the poor man, hitting the call button to free his hands. He picked up after a single ring. 

“Fuck—you’re actually perfect,” he panted, the wet sound of his hand still audible. “I’ve never been this gone from just voice messages before.”

You laughed softly, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a quiet moan, “then don’t stop. Stroke it faster for me, yeah? Be good, I want to hear every sound you make while you think about fucking me.”

Heeseung groaned, clearly trying (and failing) to stay quiet because of his friends, who were in the living room. “Feels so good but it’s not enough—I keep imagining you riding me, telling me to go harder, shit,—”

“You’re doing so well,” you praised, clenching around your fingers as he moans out your name, “imagine it’s my pussy instead of your hand. I’m so fucking wet for you right now. You’d slide in so easy, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah—fuck, I would,” he whimpered, “I’d let you use me however you want. I’d let you choke me while you ride me, I don’t even care anymore—”

You moaned louder, fingers curling just right, “yeah, yeah, just keep talking like that and I’m gonna cum, be good c’mon, you’ll cum with me, yeah?”

Heeseung’s breathing turned ragged, desperate little sounds slipping out, “i’m so close—gonna—fuck, Y/N—”

You came first, moaning his name all soft and filthy into the phone. He followed right after with a choked groan, trying to muffle it against his pillow but failing miserably, and god knows what would happen if Sunoo (who was there all thanks to Sunghoon) was to witness this. 

For a long moment the only thing between you was heavy breathing.

Then Heeseung let out a soft, wrecked little laugh, making you grin lazily, “you did so well, Hee.”

He didn’t expect that, making him whine again, and you swore you could run to see him all flushed and blushing, “you’re so perfect.”

Your breath hitched at his whispered words, gulping as you stayed silent, letting your breathing even out. He was quiet for a beat too, but his mind wasn’t stopping at that. 

“Hey, uh I saw what you did earlier, in the hallway, with Mina.”

You blinked, surprised, “wait, you were there?”

“Yeah. I was a little further back, but i heard everything.” His voice dropped, almost like he was in awe, “the way you shut her down for me—defended me like that without even thinking. It was really fucking hot. Couldn’t stop thinking about it all night, that’s why I texted you.”

You let out a low chuckle at how unpredictable he was, “so that’s the real reason you were sending me nudes and moaning my name like a desperate little slut at one a.m., huh?”

If praises led Heeseung to moan, the degradation caused him to cry—not in a bad way of course. It was new for him too, as if he was learning about himself through you. And the voice you heard was beautiful, a broken cry of his desperation. 

“I see you’re into degradation,” you pointed out. 

“Fucking hell, even I didn’t know,” he breathed out, eyes closing. 

You only smirked, getting closer to the phone now.

“Wanna test how it plays out?”

“Why the fuck did Hoon just tell me you’re fucking Heeseung?” 

It was rather hard to distinguish his tone when he sounded both impressed and mad. Turns out, he was mad since he didn’t hear it from you first, then, he was impressed with how fast you moved on. Regardless, he didn’t let you live that down, trying to force the group together, only to see Heeseung squirming and you being absolutely normal. 

You were sitting cross-legged on your bed, still in the oversized hoodie you’d thrown on after your morning shower, when Sunoo burst through the door, Winter followed, sipping an iced latte and looking far too amused for someone who was supposed to be your emotional support. And so another interrogation session took place, which you survived (somehow). 

Other than that, things had been normal. A few changes did occur such as you all having lunch together, even Winter invited her girlfriend, making the group seem livelier than ever. Jake made it his mission to sit next to you each time, and Heeseung—well, he stared at you more than he ate. 

That pattern followed you straight into your English lecture later that afternoon. You slipped into your usual seat in the middle row, barely five minutes late, when Riki dropped into the chair right beside you, and you looked up at him, surprised. 

Heeseung walked in later, eyes on how you greeted the guy easily, and with that, he almost walked into someone. He could only manage to groan, because why wouldn’t you talk to him? To be fair, you did talk to him, like a friend, but never more, no initiation of any sort. Heeseung was the one who texted first, and he didn’t mind, but with how soft hearted he was, he probably wouldn’t mind you texting first either. 

That being said, Heeseung was basically sulk incarnate watching how you made plans to give Riki a coffee for some reason—was it a date? Why would you even like that tall kid? Heeseung knew you better despite the little time he spent with you. It was a given that you didn’t offer much about yourself despite your outgoing personality, but he did know how you played with your nails, how your eyes go wide when you eat something good, and how fucking good you sound moaning his name. 

“We’re all going to the cafe,” Sunoo chirped the second you stepped outside after the class, Heeseung following behind to see all his friends standing there too. 

You did find it odd how he was silent today, too silent, even worse when he didn’t try to initiate any conversation with you, just falling into step with his friends instead. His hands were shoved deep in his hoodie pockets, shoulders a little hunched as the group started moving.

Halfway there he slowed down just enough to tug Jay’s sleeve, voice low and trying way too hard to sound casual, “Hey, can you do me a favour?”

Jay only raised his brow, urging him to continue, “uh, so when we sit down, maybe ask Y/N something that’ll get her talking, like the stuff going on in her life, just anything.”

Jay stopped dead for half a second, then let out a loud, wheezing laugh that practically bounced off the buildings. The sound was so sudden and genuine that you actually turned around mid-conversation with Karina and Winter, eyebrows raised like you were trying to figure out what was so funny. Jay just waved you off, still cracking up as he clapped Heeseung on the back a little too hard.

“You’re actually hopeless,” Jay wheezed, trying to keep his voice down but failing miserably, “just talk to her yourself, what the fuck.”

Heeseung shoved him off, cheeks hot, “shut up, man. Just—just do it, okay? Please.”

They caught up to the rest of the group right as you all reached the café. The usual corner table was free, so everyone piled in. Jake, of course, immediately dropped into the seat next to you like it was his assigned spot now. Heeseung ended up straight across from you, eyes meeting yours, but this time, he didn’t look away. The corner of your lips twitched seeing him this way, and soon, he found himself smiling fondly too. 

Jay sat there as a witness to Heeseung’s internal breakdown, and well, happiness caused by two seconds of your undivided attention. In the midst of it all, everyone gave their orders, famished beyond words for some reason. The table was lively still, Jake trying to initiate conversations with you, even though Heeseung had not so subtly kicked him under the table to shut him up. 

Jay waited until there was a small lull, then leaned forward with that lazy grin of his.

“So Y/N,” he said casually, like it was no big deal, “what’s the deal with you and Heeseung lately? You two been hanging out a lot or what? He’s been weirdly smiley these days.”

Heeseung’s heart did a stupid little flip, face clearly trying to play it cool, but his eyes were glued to you, waiting.

You took a sip of your drink and shrugged, knowing that if you say anything remotely wrong, Sunoo and Winter would be on your ass about it, “it’s nice hanging out with him, he’s funny.”

Jay snorted at how Heeseung’s smile widened, “funny, huh? That’s all you’re giving us?”

Before you could answer, Jake jumped in, mouth full of his cup ramen, which he somehow got into the cafe, “god, I shouldn’t have gotten Shin, I’m telling you, nothing beats Buldak. You team Buldak too, Y/N?”

Heeseung looked rather offended, “nah, Shin’s better, broth tastes better too.”

Jake immediately turned to you with those big puppy eyes, “c’mon, tell him he’s wrong. Buldak or nothing, right?”

Sunoo and Sunghoon couldn’t even stand this, staring at Jake with the same expression of disgust, his fascination for you was genuinely funny. 

You looked up at Hee, who waited for your answer with shiny eyes, then back at Jake again. Maybe teasing Heeseung wouldn’t hurt, right? Especially when he looked so innocent and serious about your input as if it mattered. 

“I mean, Buldak is definitely good,” you agreed with Jake, taking another sip of your mango matcha. 

Jake beamed at the reply, bumping your shoulder. But Heeseung’s smile faltered for a second, and you almost frowned, not expecting him to surrender, “yeah, fair enough,” he muttered, staying silent the rest of the time, eyes flicking up to you every few seconds, while you observed him openly.

Jay only sighed, and somehow Winter was just as exhausted at the exchange, because Heeseung couldn’t hide his feelings to save his life, and you?

You were missing the point of this little conversation entirely. 

When everyone finally started packing up for their next lectures, the group split off in different directions. You noticed Heeseung hanging back a little, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders still hunched as he walked alone. With a chuckle, you jogged a couple steps, and grabbed his hand.

Heeseung startled hard, eyes going wide as he looked down at your fingers laced with his, and how perfect your new acrylics looked, the touch being enough to make a shiver go up his spine, “Y/N—?”

You only walked further, swinging your joined hands, “why so silent today?” You asked, looking up at him with a brow raised. 

He let out a small breath, eyes flickering back to where your thumb brushed his knuckles, “it’s nothing, just thinking I guess.”

“Hm, about how I picked Buldak over Shin?” You tilted your head, “you got all quiet after that. Kinda cute, actually.”

Heeseung glanced away, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself, “It’s not that, but Jake looked happy, so—yeah.”

“Shin’s my favourite actually, I only said Buldak to see you fight back, but yeah,” you shrugged with a smile. 

Heeseung’s head snapped back toward you, surprised, “wait, really?”

“Yeah. Remember that night we ran into each other at the convenience store? You were grabbing Shin too, I noticed.” You pointed out, “and you barely ate anything at the café either. Come over later? We can have ramen together.”

Heeseung’s steps slowed at the implication, and it showed on his face, mixed with the fondness of the simple fact that you noticed such little things. He wasn’t the kind of guy who needed grand gestures, yes he’d appreciate it, but the little things mattered more. 

“You—noticed that?” He asked quietly, almost shy.

You hummed, then leaned up on your toes, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “you can eat something else too if you want.”

That sent him into this mode of short circuiting, and before he could even form a reply, you let go of his hand with a bright, mischievous laugh and took off running ahead across the path, glancing back at him over your shoulder with that same playful grin.

Heeseung stood there for half a second, face burning, your words looping in his head like a damn song on repeat. Then a big, flustered smile broke across his face and he took off after you, knowing he’d catch up to you in no time. 

“Fuck,” he yelled, half-laughing as he chased you down the walkway, “you can’t just say that and run—get back here!”

He really hoped it could always stay this easy with you.

You fell on your mattress with a thud, the springs creaking under the sudden weight of both of you. Heeseung landed right on top, chest pressed to yours, mouth already chasing yours in a hungry, desperate kiss that tasted like the faint strawberry from his drink earlier. 

His lips were hot and insistent, tongue sliding against yours like he couldn’t get close enough, letting out every bit of his frustration into this kiss. One of his hands shoved under your hoodie and straight into your shorts, two fingers gliding through your slick folds before pushing inside you without hesitation. You gasped into his mouth, thighs falling open wider as he curled them deep, stroking that spot that made your back arch clean off the bed.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he breathed against your lips, and you only sank in further, kissing all the way down to his neck, letting an open mouthed kiss linger on his adam’s apple, feeling it blobbing under you as he gulped in need, as if parched. 

Heeseung let out a shaky groan, fingers stuttering inside you for a second before he doubled down, thrusting them deeper, curling harder, “shit—you’re gonna make me lose it just from that.”

You smiled against his throat, sucking lightly, then dragged your teeth over the same spot while your hand kept working his cock in slow, tight strokes. He was throbbing in your palm, hot and slick with precum, hips twitching every time your thumb swept over the head, and you almost moaned cause he was big. 

But it wasn’t enough, you wanted him under you, wanted to watch him fall apart.

You pushed at his chest, flipping him onto his back in one smooth motion. Heeseung let out a surprised grunt as you straddled his thighs, yanking his pants and boxers down just far enough. His cock sprang free, flushed dark and glistening, curving up against his stomach.

Wrapping your fingers around his base as you leaned in to give his tip a slow kiss, making him moan shamelessly, “wait—you don’t have to,” he managed to let out. 

You looked up at him, lips brushing the wet slit as you spoke, “I know, I want to,” you whispered, “been thinking about having you in my mouth since you were sulking on the way here, just to apologize, y’know?”

Heeseung’s breath hitched, “god—you’re serious?”

Instead of answering, you took him in, lips stretching around the thick head, tongue pressing flat against the underside as you sank down. The taste of him filled your mouth, salty and warm, and you moaned softly around his length.

“Shit—baby,” Heeseung’s hand flew to your hair, holding on like he needed something to ground him, his thighs tensing under you, “your mouth feels—so fucking good.”

You hummed in response, taking him deeper until he bumped the back of your throat. You relaxed around him, swallowing, and he let out a broken groan, hips twitching up before he caught himself.

“Sorry—gosh I didn’t mean to,” he whispered. 

You pulled off just enough to speak, lips shiny, a thin string of spit still connecting you to him, “don’t apologize. Fuck my throat if you want to.” You stroked him slow and firm, eyes locked on his, “I can take it, I want you to use me.”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened. He’d never done this before, sure he’d gotten blowjobs, but the permission to take in full control of it? Oh, he swore he was gonna die, “you’re gonna kill me saying shit like that.”

You chuckled and sank back down, taking him all the way until your nose brushed his stomach. You held there for a second, throat fluttering around him, before you started moving, wet bobs of your head, hand twisting around the base.

Heeseung’s head fell back against the pillow, a wrecked moan spilling out, “fuck, fuck—oh my god.” His fingers tightened in your hair, not forcing, but guiding you a little now, testing the waters, “you like this? Being on your knees for me?”

You moaned around him in answer, the vibration making his hips jerk. You pulled off with a gasp, spit dripping down your chin, “I like when you stop being so polite and just take what you want.” You licked a slow stripe up the underside, eyes never leaving his, “you’re always so sweet, Hee, but i also know how desperate you are, won’t you show it to me like a good fucking boy?”

Heeseung’s breath stuttered, it was almost like a switch flipping. His grip in your hair tightened just a fraction more, and when you took him back in, he let himself thrust up a little, shallow and careful at first.

“Like this?” He asked, voice strained, “tell me if it’s too much.”

You pulled off just enough to speak, lips brushing the head, “Harder, I can take it. Use my throat, baby.”

The words seemed to break something in him. He groaned deep in his chest and started moving his hips with more purpose, fucking into your mouth in short, needy thrusts. You relaxed your throat and let him, moaning encouragement around his cock every time he pushed deeper.

“Fuck, fuck—you’re so good,” he panted, voice cracking, “so fucking good at this. Look at you—taking me so deep.” His free hand came down to cup your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek while he watched himself disappear between your lips, “I didn’t know I liked this so much, watching you choke on me.”

You moaned louder, the praise and the way he was starting to lose control making heat flood between your legs. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, and Heeseung’s head tipped back again, a string of curses falling from his lips.

“Baby—slow down or I’m gonna cum,” he warned, but his hips kept moving, like he couldn’t stop himself,  “you’re really gonna let me cum down your throat?”

You pulled off with a wet pop, stroking him fast and tight, lips hovering just over the tip, “let me taste you.”

Heeseung’s eyes rolled back as he came with a broken moan of your name, hips jerking as he spilled down your throat in hot pulses. You swallowed every drop, working him through it until he was trembling and oversensitive, little whimpers slipping out every time your tongue moved.

When you finally pulled off, lips swollen and shiny, Heeseung was staring at you like you’d rewired his brain. His chest was heaving, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes dark and hazy.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, voice shot, “I didn’t know I could like something that much.”

You wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb, smirking as you crawled up his body and kissed him slowly, letting him taste himself on your tongue.

“You’re learning fast,” you murmured against his lips. “and we’re just getting started.”

So, you were true to your word, because by the time you both stopped, all breathless and spent, it was nighttime. In the midst of everything, you both had managed to fall asleep tangled with each other. Heeseung was the one to wake up first, caressing your cheek as he stared at how peacefully you slept in his arms. 

He stayed like that for a long minute, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek, watching the way your lashes rested against your skin. Something heavy settled in his chest—not regret exactly, but a quiet, gnawing guilt that refused to leave him alone.

Carefully, he slipped out from under you, tucking the blanket around your bare shoulders so you wouldn’t get cold. He padded over to the window on quiet feet, pushing the curtain aside just enough to look out at the dark sky. The campus lights glowed faintly in the distance, stars barely visible through the city haze.

Heeseung pressed his forehead against the cool glass, exhaling slowly. What the fuck am I doing? The thought looped in his head. He’d loved Mina—or at least he’d told himself he did. They’d been together for over a year. But even on the best nights with her, he’d never felt this—free, this wanted. With you, you didn’t ask him to be anything other than exactly who he was in the moment, needy, desperate, a little mean when you pushed him, soft when you let him hold you after. Just a hint of your attention made his chest feel too full and that scared the shit out of him.

Because he’d sworn he loved Mina. But this? He wasn’t even sure what to name this feeling anymore, and it felt dramatic when nothing had even happened, just freedom and the best pleasure he’d ever experienced. 

The floor creaked softly behind him, making him turn his head to find you sitting up in bed now, hair messy, eyes still heavy with sleep. Without saying anything, you reached for his hoodie that had been tossed on the floor earlier and pulled it over your head. It swallowed you, the hem brushing your thighs as you padded over barefoot to stand beside him.

You leaned your shoulder against the window frame, looking out at the same dark sky. For a moment neither of you spoke.

“You okay?” You asked eventually, voice soft.

Heeseung, however, was in deep thoughts of silent appreciation, because you looked beautiful, you always did, “yeah,” he let out a quiet breath, “I feel like an asshole for even saying this out loud, but—I don’t remember it ever feeling this easy with Mina, even when things were good. With you it’s just different. Like I don’t have to pretend or hold back or be anyone else. I don’t know. That probably sounds stupid.”

You stayed quiet for a second, then bumped your shoulder gently against his, “it doesn’t sound stupid. You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel, Hee, it’s valid. You don’t owe her anything anymore, and you don’t owe me some perfect version of yourself either, okay?”

“You’re too nice to me,” he mumbled. 

You smiled, looking elsewhere for a moment as you gulped, “that’s what friends are for,” you let out. 

Heeseung turned to look at you fully, friends, is that what you were? Because friends don’t do all this. So, Heeseung only managed to muster one question, hoping the reply would be enough of an action to understand if he was truly alone in this or not.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper with the hope to earn even something as little as a nod. 

This means something more, you thought. This isn’t just sex anymore, not for him. Truly, Heeseung wasn’t even the kind to do this, so why did he agree to this? You wouldn’t mind being a rebound for him but him getting attached would be a problem. Would it really, though? You should’ve said no, but you found yourself being entranced by the beauty in his eyes. 

So, instead you stepped closer, sliding your hands up his bare chest, and tilted your face up to his, “yeah,” you whispered, “you can.”

Heeseung’s breath caught as he cupped your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks like you were something fragile, slotting his lips onto yours almost achingly gentle, this almost felt like a question and an answer all at once to him. 

When he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he let out a shaky little laugh, pecking the corner of your mouth once. 

The reflection on the window catching on everything you both were too afraid to admit. 

Honestly, the fault was yours for not discussing the boundaries or making one of those contracts like they do in the movies or books (though they never work), cause now, you and Heeseung had been hanging around way more often, some witnesses might even confuse this intimacy for dating. 

Maybe Heeseung was one of them, because when he texted you to come over, you half expected sex, not sitting alongside him learning League of legends at two in the morning. He was unpredictable to say the least, but he did wear his heart on his sleeve, so you could see the bits and pieces of the things he craved, and right now, he craved your time. 

You didn’t mind giving it to him, but it did come with a cost. The second you walked into the room, eyes widening at this small corner of the desk where a mango matcha, a few blue walkers, and a pack of Ferrero Rocher was placed neatly, alongside two packets of cup noodles (just in case). 

To Heeseung, it was normal, and you would have agreed had it been some synonym of aftercare, but no. It was just Heeseung being absolutely willing (and needing) to spend more time with you outside of your fancy little arrangement. 

He had opened the door with a smile so contagious, you mirrored it as he led you inside. A small corner of his desk was full of snacks, a cup of matcha which he knew was your favourite, a couple of Ferrero Rochers because he saw you eating those during the English lecture. You stood there for a second longer than intended, staring at it all, then at the man who had already made himself comfortable on the spare chair, waiting for you with the same gentle smile he always carried around you, making you gulp for a second before you returned it. 

“C’mere? Sit with me,” he said, patting his main gaming chair right next to him, and he half expected you to tease him for doing this, “I swear I’m not trying to be weird, and if you don’t wanna do this we can stop, or you can make fun of me.”

You let out a quiet huff of a laugh and kicked your shoes off before sliding into the chair beside him. Your knee bumped his under the desk and you left it there, the contact warm even through your clothes. Heeseung rolled his own chair closer right away, leaning in from behind you so his chest brushed lightly against your back, one arm resting along the back of your seat while the other reached around to the mouse, and you didn’t notice how he took in your scent with a dreamy sigh. 

“We’re playing League of Legends?” You asked, and he nodded. 

“Have you played it before?” He asked a little hesitant that you’d say you don’t wish to play or indulge in this. 

“Nope,” you said, reaching for the matcha because your mouth suddenly felt dry. The cup was ice-cold, condensation dripping down your fingers as you took a sip, “I’m probably gonna suck at this, just so you know.”

Heeseung let out a small laugh, relieved that you aren’t opposed to this, “that’s fine, we can start from the basics,” he covered your hand with his on the mouse, guiding you through the first clicks. “You just run at people and spin when they get close. Super easy, I promise.”

His fingers were warm over yours, almost careful like he was scared you’d pull away. You felt the way his chest moved against your back when he breathed, the faint brush of his hair against your neck every time he leaned in a little closer to see the screen better.

You clicked around awkwardly and Garen just kind of—stood there swinging his sword at nothing, “this feels dumb,” you muttered, but you were smiling a little, “I look like a robot trying to dance.”

Heeseung bit his bottom lip at the sheer joy of having you play his favourite game, even though you looked lost, confused, and too adorable, “you don’t look dumb. You look cute as hell trying to figure it out.” He squeezed your hand gently and moved the mouse for you, making Garen run forward. “See? Just click on this, okay?”

You tried it and Garen spun like a big metal tornado, actually hitting a couple of the little enemy guys, “oh okay, that was kinda fun,” you admitted, biting your lip to hide the grin. You reached for one of the Ferrero Rochers with your free hand, unwrapped it, and popped it in your mouth. The chocolate melted sweet and crunchy on your tongue, “how’d you know I like this.”

Heeseung shrugged, his shoulder rubbing against yours, “I pay attention to you, sue me.” He took the half you offered him without hesitation, biting it right from your fingers, his lips brushing your skin for a second too long.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the little flutter in your stomach at how brutally honest he was. He pays attention, he set all this up just so you’d feel comfortable doing something he likes. This isn’t what you signed up for, this is him wanting you around, not just in his bed. Stop feeling it. Stop.

The game kept going, as you died a bunch—running straight into the big tower like an idiot, getting smacked by random enemies—but Heeseung never made you feel stupid about it. He’d just lean in closer, chin resting on your shoulder now, arm wrapped a little tighter around the back of your chair, and murmur stuff like, “try backing up a tiny bit next time, yeah?” Or, “you’re getting the spin down though, that last one actually hit three of them, nice.”

You passed him chips from the blue walkers packet, your fingers brushing his every time. He took them without pulling away, crunching quietly while his other hand stayed on the mouse with yours, guiding you through another wave.

Heeseung couldn’t say this out loud but boy was he thrilled. It felt so nice, so domestic to do something so simple with someone (you). He couldn’t help but compare, simply because he didn’t know the basic possibilities of the relationship universe, though you weren’t in one. His ex never spared time for such things, indifferent about his interests, while you were so—sweet. 

“You’ve done this before? Teaching someone like this, I mean?” You asked after a while, “or am I getting special treatment?”

Heeseung went quiet for a second, then let out a breathy little laugh against your neck, “special treatment,” he admitted, no hesitation, “and no, it’s my first time teaching anyone.”

You leaned back into him a little more without thinking, the warmth of his chest solid and comforting against your back, the kind of solace that you had never had the pleasure of experiencing before. Was it supposed to be this easy? 

The snacks slowly disappeared between you—another Ferrero passed back and forth, the mango matcha cup getting lighter with every sip you took. Heeseung kept talking about random shit that had nothing to do with the game. How Jake had stolen his last ramen again, how he stayed up last night thinking about if aliens eat solid food, or if the Thestrals from Harry Potter can see each other or not. 

You told him about the fanpage you had at fifteen, he listened like it was the most interesting thing ever, thumb stroking slow circles on the back of your hand the whole time.

At some point the first game ended. You were still pretty bad, but you weren’t frustrated anymore. Heeseung’s arm had stayed around you the whole time, his chin heavy on your shoulder, breathing warm against your skin.

He didn’t queue another match right away, instead he just sat there for a second, arms loose around your waist, like he was thinking.

“C’mere,” he murmured, voice a little rough as his hands slid to your hips and he tugged you gently, pulling you straight off the spare chair and into his lap like it was the easiest thing in the world. Your back settled fully against his chest, thighs bracketing his, his arms wrapping around you properly so he could still reach everything if he wanted. The chair creaked once under both of you. You fit too well, way too well.

He rested his chin back on your shoulder and clicked into another custom game like nothing had changed, but his arms stayed tight around your waist, like he didn’t want to let go.

“What are we doing, Hee?” You asked in a low mumble. 

Heeseung went still, arms locking tighter around your waist like the question had burned him, he was afraid you’d bring it up and that’s exactly what you did. You felt him swallow hard, breath shaky against your neck.

He opted to answer with his actions instead, turning your face toward him with one hand and kissing you, lips pressing firm like he’d been dying to do it. His tongue slid in right away, tasting like chocolate and the mango you’d been sharing all night. He made this quiet, embarrassed little sound in his throat and kissed you harder, fingers sliding into your hair to hold you there.

You tried to pull back half an inch, though absolutely feeling your heartbeat fastening at how good the kiss, the warmth felt, “Hee, wait—”

He chased your mouth instantly, cutting you off with another kiss, deeper this time, tongue lazy and filthy against yours. His hand slipped under your top, palm hot and a little unsteady on your bare waist, thumb stroking slow circles like he needed to feel your skin to stay sane. He was breathing hard through his nose, cheeks burning against yours, but he wouldn’t let you speak. Every single time your lips parted he was right there again, kissing you quiet, desperate and messy like talking would ruin whatever this was.

“Bed,” he mumbled against your mouth. He stood up with you still in his lap, hands under your thighs, and carried you the few steps across the room. The second your back hit the mattress he was on top of you, settling between your legs and kissing you again before you could even breathe.

This time it was slower but no less intense. His tongue moved against yours in these long, deep strokes while one hand pushed further under your top, palm flat on your stomach, sliding up until his fingers brushed the edge of your bra. His other hand stayed tangled in your hair, tugging gently every time you tried to talk. He was so fucking flustered—ears red, breath shaky, little embarrassed groans slipping out whenever you rolled your hips up into him—but he still wouldn’t let you ask.

Every time you opened your mouth he swallowed it with another kiss, and you groaned, pulling him into you deeper, letting him showcase his feelings through whatever this was, and you understood it, but couldn’t stop it or ask any further, because you knew he’d deflect as if it scared him. 

As if  the only answer he could give was this.

You were decent at saying no, in fact, some might even admit how good you were at it, blunt as fuck. But that ability was limited to the world and it most certainly didn’t apply to this glorious six foot tall man who wished for you to join him at the basketball court. You could have made up some excuse, maybe tell him you have a lab report due, but you didn’t do that—because you wanted to go. 

“This is getting ridiculous,” said Winter, watching you change into a loose t-shirt and old shorts, “you hate sports. You once told me basketball was just a bunch of giants running in circles. Now you’re rushing out at night because Heeseung said come watch me play? And you’re dressing up the part too?”

You shrugged, tying your hair up, “It’s not that deep. I’m bored.”

“Sure, tell yourself that,” she mumbled with her brow raised. 

Well, she wasn’t exactly wrong, but you didn’t care much as you made your way out towards the court which was lit up by some harsh floodlights, looking over to find some guys already deep in the game. You could spot Heeseung, Chenle, Beomgyu, and Sunghoon—t-shirts sticking to their backs. 

Nics (Chenle’s girlfriend) and Moon (Sunghoon’s girlfriend) were already on the bleachers with their chaotic friend, Ricey, who always carried snacks in her bag. The second they spotted you, Nics waved you over with a grin, patting the spot next to her. 

Heeseung was mid-dribble when his head snapped in your direction, the ball bouncing once before he caught it against his hip. Even from across the court you could see the way his face softened, that small, stupidly genuine smile breaking through like usual. He lifted his free hand in a quick wave. 

“Yo, Y/N’s here!” Chenle shouted, grinning like an idiot as he wiped sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt, “perfect timing, let’s do girls versus boys now.”

Nics hopped off the bleachers first, already pulling her hair up, “final-fucking-ly. Come on, we’re making this four on four.”

Moon laughed and stood up too, nudging Ricey, “you in or are you just gonna sit there eating chips the whole time?”

Ricey popped another chip in her mouth before standing, “I’m in, but if I break a nail I’m blaming all of you.”

You didn’t get a chance to sit as you got dragged into the court. Heeseung jogged over to you, still breathing a little hard, hair messy and damp. Up close he smelled like sweat and that familiar woody cologne, and the way he looked at you made you shiver. 

“You actually came,” he breathed, grabbing your arm without thinking much at all. 

“Couldn’t let you embarrass yourself alone,” you replied, stealing the ball from his hands just to mess with him. He laughed, eyes crinkling, and for a second it felt like the rest of the court disappeared.

But boy was it chaotic with Moon just distracting Hoon half the time, Nics and Chenle spent the time arguing—which was clearly their way of flirting, meanwhile Ricey was enjoying the drama in the middle of this all. The game was messy, and oh so loud.

You mostly ended up guarding Heeseung, and he was clearly not focused on winning anymore.

The first time you drove past him, he barely tried to block you, just let you slip by with this stupid little smile on his face. When you scored, he was the first one clapping, muttering under his breath, “fuck, that was hot,” loud enough for Beomgyu to hear and immediately start laughing.

“You’re not even guarding her properly!” Sunghoon yelled, hands on his knees, “you just watched her score and looked proud as hell!”

Heeseung didn’t even deny it, just shrugged, eyes still locked on you as you dribbled back. 

“She’s fast,” he said, but the way he said it was way too soft, and he wondered why he called you with others around when he should’ve done this one on one, but even then, he was thrilled to see you fit in so well with everyone. 

The court lights hummed overhead, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt, your oversized t-shirt clung to your skin in damp patches, the thin cotton sticking to the curve of your waist and the small of your back every time you moved. Heeseung’s eyes kept dropping to where the hem rode up every time you moved, and honestly? You liked it.

You caught the ball again and drove straight at him. This time his hand found your waist right away, palm warm through the damp fabric, thumb brushing under the hem like he couldn’t help himself. You spun past anyway, shoulder bumping his chest, and laid it up clean. When you landed he was still there, fingers lingering on your hip for a second longer than necessary.

“Shit, you’re good,” he muttered by your ear.

Beomgyu groaned loud enough for everyone to hear, “Heeseung, your hand was literally on her the whole time!”

Sunghoon just shook his head, “I can’t watch this anymore.”

A few plays later you slowed right in front of him, dribbling lazy, then hit him with the pout—bottom lip out, eyes big. Heeseung’s shoulders dropped instantly, “come on, that’s cheating,” he whined, but he was already stepping aside, hand sliding to your hip again as you blew past and scored.

Ricey started cracking up from the fence. “He folded. Let’s fucking go!”

Nics and Moon were dying, “Y/N, you’re actually evil,” Moon yelled, “like—look at him.”

The game kept going like that, every time you got near him his hands were on your waist or lower back, like he needed the excuse to touch you. After one layup he caught you around the middle when you landed, pulling you back against his chest for a second, chin brushing your shoulder.

“You’re killing me out here,” he said quietly, thumb rubbing slow against your side.

You turned your head, “stop letting me win so obviously.”

“Can’t,” he admitted, fingers flexing on your hip, “can’t stop you.”

Final possession got you dribbling right up to him. He stepped up, but the second you gave him the pout he let out a soft laugh and just gave up, both hands settling on your waist.

“Go win, baby,” he whispered, not even trying to hide it anymore as you drove and laid it in clean.

Game over.

Nics scooped you up spinning you once while Moon and Ricey cheered like idiots. The second your feet hit the ground Heeseung was there, arm sliding around your waist and pulling you back against him. His t-shirt was damp against yours, heartbeat steady on your back.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured into your hair, thumb still tracing slow circles on your hip under the hem, “didn’t even wanna stop you.”

You leaned into him, grinning, “you had your hands on me the whole second half.”

“Yeah,” he said, no shame at all, “felt too good.”

Heeseung didn’t get to talk more as a fuming Chenle grabbed his collar and dragged him away for what seemed to be some good beating. 

Moon and Nics immediately grabbed your arms at the opportunity and pulled you a few steps away, cornering you near the fence while Heeseung was distracted talking (arguing) to Chenle.

“Okay, spill,” Moon said, “what the hell is going on with you two? Because that was not subtle.”

Nics nodded, still half-laughing, “girl, he had his hands on your waist like every single play. He’s so into you it’s actually funny.”

You tried to play it cool, wiping sweat off your neck with the bottom of your shirt, “It’s not like that. We’re just—hanging out? No strings, y’know?”

They waited for you to say you’re joking, or just laugh, but then none of it came and they gasped, collectively. 

“You’re not serious,” Moon deadpanned. 

Nics’ eyes went huge, “wait. You’re actually serious.”

Ricey let out a low whistle, leaning against the fence, “damn, Y/N. I thought you were messing with us.”

You shrugged, trying to laugh it off, but the sound came out rather shaky. Your stomach did that stupid little flip again, like your body was calling you a liar before your mouth could. The cool night air on your damp neck suddenly felt too cold, and your t-shirt clung uncomfortably to your skin, “I mean, yeah, that’s the deal. We both said it from the start.”

The words felt flat even as you said them. Your eyes drifted across the court before you could stop yourself. Chenle still had Heeseung in that dramatic headlock, ranting about how embarrassing he was, but Heeseung wasn’t even pretending to fight back. His head turned and his gaze found yours instantly through the mess of hair falling in his face. That soft, stupid little smile tugged at his lips like getting chewed out didn’t matter at all. Just you did.

Your chest squeezed as you looked away, but Moon followed your stare and let out a quiet oh, “girl, look at him right now. He’s getting yelled at and he’s still staring at you like that? Come on.”

Nics nudged your side. “he had his hands on your waist literally every single time you got near him. Called you baby in front of all of us. Folded like a lawn chair the second you pouted. That’s a man catching feelings and not even trying to hide it.”

Ricey nodded, arms crossed, “for real. We were all watching, he was playing how many times can I touch my girl without getting called out.”

You swallowed, heat creeping up your neck that had nothing to do with the game anymore, “It’s not like that,” you mumbled but even you could hear how unsure you sounded. The way Heeseung was still looking at you made the label feel thinner than your sweaty t-shirt.

Before anyone could push harder, Chenle finally shoved Heeseung away with one last groan. Heeseung jogged back over, hair wrecked, cheeks flushed, but his eyes were already locked on you again. His arm slid around your waist without hesitation, palm warm and familiar against the damp fabric like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You guys done roasting her yet?” He asked, voice light and a little out of breath. 

Ricey snorted, “not even close.”

Heeseung just grinned and pulled you closer, chin brushing the top of your head. You leaned into him without thinking, the solid warmth of his side against yours making that chest-tight feeling even worse. Or better, you couldn’t tell anymore.

Your newfound friends exchanged a look behind his back, but you caught it anyway.

Whatever this was—it didn’t feel like no strings anymore. Not even a little.

Heeseung always thought that his partner would an extension of his very soul, and he never achieved that. Maybe the saying can be moulded into perspectives of sort, perhaps connection wasn’t about mirroring souls but about finding someone who made the fractures feel intentional, beautiful even.

He mindlessly knocked on the door, heart drumming an uneven rhythm against his ribs, not expecting the door to open so quickly, his breath hitching at the sight of you in front of him. 

Maybe your partner isn’t supposed to be an extension of you, but rather someone who’d stand on the opposite side of the spectrum and still look like a perfect puzzle when fitted together. 

You stood there like a living poem rendered in silk—clad in a breathtaking white gown that slipped over your skin with liquid grace, the delicate fabric catching the hallway’s muted glow, the thin straps tracing the delicate architecture of your collarbones like a lover’s fingertip. It moved with you, shimmering faintly, alive with every subtle shift of your weight. Your hair styled perfectly, lips glossed to a tempting sheen, and the whole vision struck him so viscerally that the air in his lungs simply vanished.

You looked beautiful, like an angel in all white, while he stood in front of you in a black leather jacket, juxtaposing every bit of elegance you exuded. 

Heeseung forgot how to breathe quite literally as time fractured around him. His gaze dragged over you in helpless reverence, while a razor-edged thought sliced through the haze. Are you going out? On a date? With someone else? The image of another man’s eyes tracing that same silk, another hand brushing the curve of your waist beneath it, coiled hot and ugly in his chest, stealing what little breath he had left.

“Hee?” You asked with a smile, tilting your head with genuine surprise, “what are you doing here?”

He gulped, forcing his eyes back up and oxygen to cooperate within him, “you’re breathtaking,” he managed, “I forgot what I came for.”

Warmth crept up your neck at the nervousness of the man in front of you, he was adorable—shifting from one leg to the other, playing with his fingers, as if the simple act of standing there might unravel him completely. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, cheeks flushed a soft rose, and those wide, doe-like eyes kept flicking back to the silk clinging to your body. You could practically feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat from where you stood, the way his throat worked on another swallow, the subtle tremor in his shoulders as he tried (and failed) to play it cool.

“I, uh—” Heeseung rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a small, embarrassed laugh, “I wanted to show you something. I’ve been carrying it around all day like an idiot because I thought you might like it. Figured tonight could be, I don’t know, nice? Just us.”

Your heart gave a small tug, the evening plans you’d been dreading now sitting like a weight in your chest, “god, Hee—I wish I could,” you said softly, “my parents are in town and we have this family dinner thing tonight. It’s one of those non-negotiable things. I was literally about to walk out the door when you knocked.”

Heeseung’s shoulders dropped just a fraction, disappointment flickering across his face before he quickly tried to smooth it over. He nodded, offering you a small, understanding smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, though he was relieved it wasn’t a boy you’d dressed up for, “no, gosh. It’s okay, I hope you have fun.”

He paused, eyes still lingering on you like he couldn’t help it, “but—if you’re not too tired later, maybe we could still meet up? Even if it’s just for a little while. No pressure or anything, I just—I really like being around you.”

All you could manage was a nod, making him smile wider. It was always a surprise at how clearly Heeseung said whatever he meant, and it wasn’t the best thing for your poor heart, which probably matched Heeseung’s pace now. Bidding goodbye was another problem especially when Heeseung stared till you got inside the cab. The dinner was a haze, your mom staring at your zoned out state with a knowing smile. 

“Who is it?” She sighed finally, making you look up in horror. 

“Mom—no,” you warned, knowing just how interested your family was in gossiping, which didn’t exclude gossip about you by any means. 

“What? She laughed, feigning innocence while your dad hid his grin behind his water glass, “I’m just asking. You’ve been smiling at nothing and zoning out all night, now spill.”

Your cousin leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief, “yeah, girl. You look like you’re thinking about someone. Is he cute? Does he go to your uni?”

Heat flooded your cheeks, “there’s no one,” you lied, though the words felt flimsy even to you, “I’m just tired.”

Your mom reached over and squeezed your wrist gently, “mhm, sure. Whoever he is, he’s lucky if he’s got you looking like this. Just don’t forget to eat, okay? You’re glowing, but you’re also not touching your food.”

You groaned, covering your face with both hands as the table erupted into light laughter. The teasing continued with your dad throwing in a dramatic “If he hurts you, I’ll find him” that made everyone chuckle—but you managed to dodge the worst of it, cheeks burning the whole time. By the time dessert came, your family had mercifully moved on, though your mom’s knowing glances never quite stopped.

Meanwhile, Heeseung stood alone on the rooftop of the main university building, the cool night breeze slipping beneath the collar of his leather jacket and ruffling his dark hair. He’d quietly borrowed the keys from the maintenance office earlier—something he wasn’t proud of, but tonight the small rebellion felt worth it. Up here, the view was stunning. City lights stretched out below like scattered diamonds across black velvet, the crescent moon hung low, casting a silvery glow over everything. He slipped an airpod in, letting his playlist fill the silence. 

His hand drifted to the inner pocket of his jacket, fingers brushing the carefully wrapped item inside. He’d wanted to show it to you tonight, watch your face light up, maybe steal a few more stolen moments of that easy warmth you gave him so effortlessly.

Heeseung leaned against the railing, staring out at the glittering skyline while the music in his earpods played on, and he wondered if you were thinking about him too, somewhere across town amid the family dinner. He didn’t mind waiting, in fact, he was good at it when it meant so much to him. Regardless, every couple of minutes he’d glance at the door, half-convinced he was being ridiculous for waiting up here like some lovesick idiot.

As he turned back again, the faint creak of the door was heard, and he went still. You stepped onto the rooftop still wrapped in that white silk gown, the wind caught the hem immediately, making it swirl softly around your legs, and when you smiled at him—he felt it right in the center of his chest.

“Hi,” you said, voice quiet. 

Heeseung pulled the airpods out slowly, letting them dangle from his fingers, “you—you actually came,” he breathed, the words slipping out before he could stop them, his eyes moved over you again, helpless, “in that dress, god, Y/N.”

You walked closer, heels soft against the concrete, “told you I would. Couldn’t stop thinking about whatever you wanted to show me,” a small laugh escaped you. 

He took a half-step closer, “I wasn’t sure,” he admitted, “but I’m really glad you’re here. You look—” he trailed off, shaking his head with a soft, almost disbelieving smile, “I don’t even have the words tonight, you’re beautiful.”

It was foreign, the way you felt all mushy inside with a compliment, granted you got those all the time, but this felt new. You stopped just inches from him, close enough to see the way the moonlight caught in his dark eyes, the faint flush still lingering on his cheeks, “show me, then,” you whispered. 

Heeseung’s breath caught for the briefest moment. Then he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a small box wrapped in simple paper, tied with a slender black ribbon. He placed it gently into your waiting hands, his fingers brushing yours with a lingering warmth that sent another quiet flutter through you.

You untied the ribbon, letting the paper fall away until the snow globe rested heavy in your palms. Inside the delicate glass sphere, a tiny couple danced beneath an invisible sky—her in a flowing white dress that mirrored the silk clinging to your body, him in a dark jacket that echoed the leather draped across Heeseung’s shoulders. Their hands were joined, bodies turned toward one another in quiet, perfect harmony. When you tilted the globe, soft white flakes swirled around them like the first gentle snowfall of winter, catching the moonlight in tiny, luminous sparks.

A rush of something overwhelming bloomed low in your stomach, as if butterflies unfurling their wings until your chest felt too full, too light. You looked up at him, eyes wide and shimmering. “Heeseung,” you breathed, “this is us. The dress, the jacket, it’s exactly like us.”

He bit his bottom lip, smiling shyly as he nodded, eyes soft with affection that he never failed to display. “Yeah,” he murmured, stepping closer until the globe rested safely between your bodies, pressed lightly against the silk over your heart, “I know it’s a little cheesy, but when I saw it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

It was yet again when he had rendered you speechless so beautifully, a small smile still graced your lips, and you couldn’t hide it, you didn’t wish to hide it, “it’s not cheesy, it’s beautiful, Hee. Thank you.” 

You held the globe for another heartbeat, letting the tiny flakes swirl and sparkle inside the glass, before you turned gently and set it on the wide concrete railing

Heeseung watched you, nervous as he reached into his pocket, pulling out one of the earpods and holding it out to you between two fingers, “dance with me?” He asked, voice hopeful, “I’ve had this song on repeat—uh, I kept imagining what it would sound like with you here.”

It was as if you were facing the real tale of the entanglement after the initial surface level attraction had worn off, which should’ve made it worse, right? But Heeseung, unlike any other potential love interest you’d met, shone brighter after revealing himself day by day. 

You took the airpod from him without a second’s hesitation and slid it in, that familiar, timeless melody of Everybody Loves Somebody filling your ear like an old friend crooning about love that finds you when you least expect it. Heeseung’s fingers brushed yours as he took your hand, threading them together with a quiet certainty that made your breath hitch. His other palm settled at your waist, warm through the silk, and he drew you in until your bodies met, like they’d been waiting all along. You let your free hand rest against his chest, right over the steady thud of his heart beneath the leather.

Heeseung let out a soft, breathy laugh, “fuck, I actually feel stupid right now,” he muttered, “I’ve never danced before.”

You laughed, leaning into his scent further, “you’re doing great, Hee.”

“Yeah?” Another dorky chuckle rumbled through his chest. He adjusted his hold on you, thumb moving in a slow, absent circle at your waist, “I don’t know, lately I keep catching myself doing shit I never thought I’d do. Like stealing keys to a rooftop, buying a snow globe because it reminded me of you. It’s weird, I feel like I’m figuring out all these parts of myself I didn’t even know were there.”

He stole keys, the thought itself made you chuckle again. You’d once read somewhere that the act of loving someone doesn’t stop at accepting them but furthers by coaxing their selfhood out of them—it felt that way for you too because who would have thought you’d be dancing with someone at a rooftop wearing a gown? 

You squeezed his hand gently, “I like that,” you said, “I like that you’re figuring it out with me.”

The proximity was perfect, yet your bodies kept on gravitating towards each other every few steps, and eventually the melody began to fade. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the position mirroring that of the snow globe miniatures. Taking another step, you leaned forward just enough to slot your lips against his, almost as if breathing each other in, lips parting at the same time before pressing into a gentle peck. Heeseung exhaled shakily against you, his hand tightening at your waist for a second like he was trying to remember how to breathe.

When you finally drew back, you gave him that smile you knew he couldn’t resist. You slipped the airpod out of your ear and dropped it into his open palm, fingers brushing his one last time. At the same time you reached over, picked up the snow globe from the railing, and tucked it carefully against your chest.

“Night, baby,” you whispered as you turned toward the door.

Heeseung just stood there, completely still, breathing a little harder than before. His eyes were wide and utterly lovestruck as he watched you walk away. The rooftop door clicked shut behind you, but he didn’t move for a long time—just stayed right where he was under the moonlight, that dazed, helpless smile slowly taking over his face.

You were panting as Heeseung pressed his lips on the base of your spine, sending a shiver up your back. He hadn’t been patient pulling you in his bed, turning you over to unzip your dress. He groaned with each kiss as if he was pleasuring himself instead of you while savouring every inch of skin exposed. 

Heeseung pressed his forehead against the middle of your back for a second, breathing hard, “you’re trembling,” he whispered against you, “is my mouth really making you feel that good?” He kissed between your shoulder blades, then higher, until his lips brushed the nape of your neck, “tell me, baby. Tell me how wet you are right now just from this.”

“So wet,” you gasped, pushing your hips back against him, “Hee—please.”

He let out a broken groan and shoved your panties to the side with impatient fingers, not even bothering to pull them off. The thick head of his cock nudged against your slick entrance, hot and heavy, before he sank into you in one long, relentless thrust.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound guttural as he bottomed out, stretching you wide, “you’re soaking my cock, baby. So fucking tight and wet for me.” He pulled back slowly, then drove in again, harder, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room, “listen to that. Hear how greedy your pussy is for me?”

You cried out, fingers clawing at the sheets as he set a deep, punishing rhythm, each stroke dragging perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you.

“Heeseung—oh god, yes—” your voice broke on a moan, tears of overwhelming pleasure already stinging your eyes, “harder—please, I need it harder.”

Heeseung cursed under his breath and fucked you deeper, hips snapping forward with filthy precision, “like this?” He panted, voice hoarse “you want me to ruin this pretty little pussy? Tell me how good it feels, baby. I want to hear you fall apart.”

“It feels so good,” you sobbed, pushing back to meet every thrust, “you’re so deep—fuck, Hee, I can’t—”

The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, white-hot and devastating, until it finally snapped.

“I love you—” the words tore out of you, raw and desperate, “Heeseung, I love you—”

He froze mid-thrust, buried to the hilt inside you, body going completely rigid.

“What?” His voice was barely a whisper, shocked and trembling.

You whimpered, hips twitching helplessly around his cock, the confession spilling out again in a blurry, broken rush, “I love you, I love you so much—”

Heeseung pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss. In one swift motion he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with wide, dark eyes and a chest that heaved like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Say it again,” he demanded, voice hoarse and shaking as he stared down at you, one hand cupping your jaw, “look at me and say it again, baby. Please.”

Your eyes were glassy, lips parted on a shaky breath, but the words seemed to have blurred, your face disappearing right in front of his eyes as you said, “I love—” 

He woke up with a sharp, ragged gasp, bolting upright in his own bed, heart slamming violently against his ribs. The room was dark and silent except for his own frantic breathing. Sweat slicked his skin, and when he looked down, the front of his sweatpants was soaked with a warm, sticky mess.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, dragging a trembling hand down his face, cheeks burning with heat.

It was hard for him to contain himself when this is all he could dream of the past six days, feeling it deep despite it being a dream. Wet dream was fine really, but the confession that echoed? Yeah, that definitely made Heeseung feel eccentric because he needed to hear that for real despite the terms of the relationship between you both. It was bound to bloom into something more.

You two had fallen into a rhythm that didn’t need a label really. He showed up outside your lectures with your stupidly specific drink (matcha), the one with the exact ratio you liked, because he’d paid attention the one time you made a face at the wrong version. You’d started leaving your oversized hoodie at his place just so you could steal his instead and he could wear yours, the sleeves swallowing your hands while you lounged on his bed scrolling through your phone. He noticed how you always tugged at your bottom lip when you were thinking too hard, how you stole the last sip of his drink without asking, how your shoulders relaxed the second you kicked your shoes off after a long day. You noticed the way he rubbed the bridge of his nose when he was tired but too stubborn to admit it, the soft little hum he made when something tasted exactly right, the way his eyes lingered on you a beat longer than necessary whenever you laughed at something dumb he said.

You weren’t calling it dating, you weren’t calling it anything. But you also weren’t fighting it. You’d never been the type to deny yourself something that made you feel good, and Heeseung made you feel good in a way that snuck up on you. So you let yourself have it without the complications of overthinking. 

Later that morning, Heeseung walked across campus still half-dazed from the dream, that stupid, lingering smile refusing to leave his face. The memory of your voice saying those three words kept looping in his head, well, until a voice didn’t wish to hear ruined his train of thoughts. 

“Well, well. If it isn’t the thief.”

Heeseung slowed to a stop and turned. Jaemin stood there with his arms crossed, wearing the same smug, pissed-off expression he used to think was charming.

Heeseung let out a dry, humorless scoff, “thief? That’s fucking hilarious coming from the guy who was literally balls-deep in my ex while we were still together.”

Jaemin stepped closer, eyes narrowing, “whatever helps you sleep at night. You really think you’re gonna keep her interested?” His voice dripped with condescension, “Y/N doesn’t do soft boys. All that cute shit you do, y’know? All that bringing her drinks, playing with her hair, looking at her like she’s the only person in the room? She’ll get bored so soon. She needs someone who can actually keep up with her, not some pathetic, whipped little romantic who gets all starry-eyed at the sight of her.”

Heeseung forced out a dry laugh, “yeah sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Jaemin stepped even closer, that ugly little smirk twisting his mouth, “you’re playing house while she’s used to getting fucked properly, I’m sure you’re not offering much to at all, you’re nothing but a rebound to her,” he scoffed once, and walked away. 

But the damage was done, because yes, Heeseung was soft, almost a whipped little romantic who let you take the lead when things got heated, how you pinned his wrists down or told him exactly how you wanted him, and how much he fucking loved giving in to you. The dream from this morning flashed behind his eyes again, your voice breaking on those three words while he was the one completely undone above you. Now it all felt suddenly pathetic, like something Jaemin could point at and laugh at.

Jealousy, envy, insecurity, these were the things he didn’t wish to feel, and gladly so, he never felt that with you, so why was an outsider here to remind him of his so called weaknesses? It felt like a spiral how he skipped the next lecture and pondered on Jaemin’s words. Did you actually not enjoy your time with him? Was he enough? Did you want a more intense relationship? Was it just a rebound?

He couldn’t find the answers to any of those questions, and managed to ignore every single text and call that came his way, letting himself cool down on the rooftop yet again. 

What he essentially forgot was how communication wasn’t a part of the relationship but the very pillar that ran practically any relationship on this earth, this being the very first instance of him not being able to express himself—something he did so freely around you. 

And so, the day passed without him replying to you. 

You felt the absence like a missing pulse. 

“You look crazy checking your phone every two minutes,” Sunoo pointed out, and you huffed, grabbing your phone again to stare at the unread texts you’d sent him through the day. 

The screen glowed mockingly in the low light of your dorm room, the blue bubble of your last message still floating unanswered beneath the others, heeseung? talk to me. you okay? i’m coming over if you don’t answer. Just silence that didn’t sit right with you. 

Sunoo flopped dramatically across the foot of your bed, legs kicking up behind him, while Winter perched on the windowsill, she watched you with that knowing tilt of her head, the one that always preceded a lecture of affection. 

“Babe,” she said, “he’s been ghosting the group chat too, something’s off. Like, capital-O off.”

You set the phone face-down on the blanket, but your fingers still twitched toward it. Sunoo nudged your ankle with his socked foot. 

“Go, seriously, and if he’s being a dramatic little shit, tell him Sunoo said to grow a pair and answer his damn phone.” His grin was bright, “you’re so in love it’s pathetic.”

Your lip only twitched, and you didn’t admit nor deny it. It was too early to even overthink what happened, was he drowning himself in self destruction while embracing pain for absolutely no reason? Regardless you frowned with disdain, pushing yourself up to actually do something about the situation, choosing to wear his hoodie he gave you a few days earlier. 

You didn’t bother fixing your hair or changing out of the soft shorts you’d been rotting in all evening. This wasn’t about looking put-together, it was about the fact that Heeseung had never once left a message on read without answering, in fact, he was the one who usually texted first, shared his problems, and discussed any and everything this world has to offer. Whatever had him locked down like this, it had teeth, and you were done waiting for him to chew through it alone.

By the time you reached there, a feeling of nervousness washed over you. Jake pulled the door open almost immediately, like he’d been hovering behind it. His eyes were wide, hair sticking up in about six different directions, and he looked so relieved to see you that it almost hurt.

“Jesus Christ, you’re here,” he sighed, stepping aside so you could slip in, “he got back from class and just shut down. Told me to fuck off when I asked if he wanted pasta. Jay tried the concerned roommate bit and got the door slammed in his face. This isn’t—he doesn’t do this, y’know?”

You nodded, throat tight, “I know.”

Jake hesitated, then added almost sheepishly, “if he’s being a dick, tell him I said to stop being a dramatic prick or i’ll take you away, or whatever.”

You gave him a chuckle and headed straight for the bedroom door, hoping that it wouldn’t be locked. It wasn’t, thankfully so, and you pushed the door open before you could talk yourself out of it. Heeseung sat on the edge of the bed in those black sweats that hung too low on his hips, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. His hair was a mess, like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. The silver chain sat against his collarbone, rising and falling with these tight little breaths. He looked exhausted, hollowed out even.

He heard the door and his head snapped up.

For a second his eyes went wide, like he couldn’t believe it was really you standing there. The whiplash of emotions was too much, especially when you were clad in his hoodie with sadness gracing your pretty face that he really always wished to see happy. He stood up so fast the bed creaked, crossed the room in two strides, and pulled you against him like he’d been waiting to do exactly that all day.

His hands were rough as he grabbed your nape the second the door closed shut behind you, breathing hard as your lips parted to ask a question, but he only closed his eyes, slid his hand up to your head as he pushed you against the door, pushing his lips against yours in a messy claim. 

He can be rough, he can be the one to give you pleasure, of course he can. His fingers tightened in your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wanted it, tongue sliding in deep. You tasted the faint cherry from whatever he’d been drinking, felt the way his chest heaved against yours like he’d been running.

“Missed you,” he mumbled right into your mouth, the words half-bitten off by another rough kiss, “fuck, I missed you so bad today.”

“Heeseung—wait, what the hell happened—” you tried, but he swallowed the question with his mouth, sucking on your bottom lip hard enough to sting before dragging his teeth down the side of your neck. His free hand shoved under the hem of the hoodie, palm sprawled over the expanse of your waist, fingers digging in like he needed to feel skin right now

“Shh,” he breathed against your throat, voice wrecked, “don’t talk. Just—let me.” He sucked a mark right below your ear, like he was stamping proof that you were here, that you were his. His hips pressed forward, pinning you tighter to the door, and you could feel how hard he already was through his sweats.

The force of him made your breath hitch, your back flush against the cool wood while every inch of him burned insistent. He was never like this, not with you. Heeseung had always been careful, as if afraid that wrong move would make you slip away. But tonight something had snapped in him, and the way his fingers trembled just slightly against your skin told you he knew it too. He was trying to prove a point—to himself, to the ghost of Jaemin’s voice still echoing in his head—that he could be the rough, ravenous version he thought you wanted.

He spun you around so fast your palms slapped against the full-length mirror on the back of his closet door. The cool glass kissed your bare chest, making your nipples tighten instantly. Heeseung’s chest pressed flush to your back, one hand sliding up to grip your jaw, forcing your head up so you had no choice but to look at your own reflection—parted lips, eyes already glassy. 

“Look at yourself,” he rasped, “look how fucking pretty you are when you’re like this for me.”

His other hand snaked down your stomach, fingers dipping between your thighs without warning. Two thick digits pushed inside you in one smooth glide, curling instantly against that spot that made your knees buckle. You gasped, forehead dropping forward until it rested on the mirror, but Heeseung’s grip on your jaw tightened, yanking you back up.

“Eyes open, baby. Watch, yeah?” 

It most certainly was hot to see him take control, but you couldn’t understand the sudden switch, the implications, your mind was too foggy with the way you’d missed him through the day. Heeseung was too in his head, as if on some mission to make you feel good—which he always achieved, yet was not satisfied. 

He pumped his fingers slow and deep, twisting them on every drag out so you felt every ridge, every knuckle. The wet, slick sounds of your pussy taking his fingers echoed obscenely in the quiet dorm room. In the mirror you watched it all: the way your lips parted on a shaky moan, the flush crawling down your neck to your chest, the way your tits pressed and flattened against the cool glass with every rock of your hips. Heeseung’s reflection behind you was devastating—dark hair falling into his eyes, jaw clenched tight, that chain around his neck swaying every time he thrust his fingers harder.

“God, you’re so deep already,” you whimpered, hips rocking back to meet his hand, “keep going like that, yeah, just like that, Hee.”

Heeseung groaned low, forehead dropping to your shoulder for a second before he forced himself to look up again, as if in pain, “that’s it. Fuck, listen to how messy you sound. You’re dripping down my wrist, baby. Such a good girl for me.”

You bit your lip, eyes fluttering, but he tapped your jaw again.

“Don’t close your eyes. Want you to see how pretty you look when I finger fuck you like this.”

“Bossy tonight,” you teased breathlessly, even as your thighs started trembling, “I like it, but you’re gonna make me cum already if you keep rubbing my clit like that.”

“Good,” he rasped, thumb circling faster, fingers curling relentlessly, “cum for me. Right now. Let me see it.”

You moaned his name loud, walls fluttering and clenching around his fingers as you came, slick coating his hand. Heeseung kept working you through it, slower but deep, murmuring against your neck, “that’s my girl—fuck, you’re so pretty when you cum. Look at you shaking for me.”

He pulled his fingers out slowly, then brought them to your lips.

“Taste yourself, baby, hm? C’mon, open up.”

You sucked them clean, eyes never leaving his in the reflection, and he cursed under his breath the second your tongue swirled around his fingers. 

“Fuck—you’re gonna kill me.”

Before you could catch your breath he dropped to his knees behind you, hands gripping your hips and yanking you back so your ass arched toward his face.

“Keep watching the mirror,” he said, voice hoarse with need, “I want you to see me eat this pussy like I’ve been starving for it.”

Then his mouth was on you, as filthy as he could manage. His tongue dragged slow and broad from your clit all the way up, and you moaned loud, hands sliding down the glass.

“Oh my god, Hee—”

“Mhm, fuck, you taste even better after you come,” he groaned against you, the vibration making your legs weak, “spread your legs a little wider for me, baby. Let me get deeper.”

You did, pushing back against his face. His tongue fucked into you while his nose nudged your clit, then he sucked your swollen clit into his mouth hard.

“Yes—right there, don’t stop,” you panted, “your tongue feels so fucking good, baby, keep sucking like that.”

Heeseung moaned into your pussy, one hand reaching around to rub your clit while the other spread you open wider, “tell me how much you like it,” he mumbled between licks, voice desperate, “tell me you love my mouth on you.”

“I love it—fuck, I love your mouth, Hee. You’re so good at this—shit, I’m gonna cum again if you keep going like that.”

He sucked harder, tongue flicking fast, fingers joining to curl inside you, “then let go again, right on my tongue. I want to feel you fall apart while you watch yourself in the mirror.”

Your second orgasm crashed over you even harder, a high pitched moan leaving your mouth, almost as if you were chanting his name like a mantra, thighs shaking violently as you came on his tongue, and Heeseung licked you through every pulse, slow and greedy, humming happily like he couldn’t get enough.

You were still trembling when he finally pulled away, breathing hard against the inside of your thigh. His eyes met yours in the mirror for a second, looking all desperate, almost frantic before he stood up and turned you around. His hands were shaking as they gripped your waist.

“Come here,” he said, voice rough, like the words were being dragged out of him. He kissed you immediately, with the need to taste the way you’d just fallen apart for him, “bed. I need you on the bed right now.”

You nodded, legs still unsteady, and he didn’t wait. He lifted you, your back hitting the mattress a second later. He climbed over you fast, knees bracketing your hips, but instead of diving right in he paused, hovering above you, chest heaving. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, and for a split second you saw the soft Heeseung underneath all that intensity—the one who always checked on you, the one who was terrified of messing this up.

“You really want this?” He asked, voice cracking a little even though he was trying to sound sure. His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your skin like he couldn’t stop himself, “all the way, me inside you. Tell me you want it, baby, please.”

“I want it,” you whispered, reaching up to pull him closer by his chain, “I want you, Hee. Stop holding back.”

He let out a shaky breath and nodded, like he was steeling himself. He shoved the rest of his clothes off as you watched the pretty boy in front of you. It was clear how he wanted to prove a point, and you were gonna let him, granted he wasn’t in the mood to talk, his faint muscles flexing was distracting you as well, but yeah, you were letting him take control. 

He gripped your thighs and spread you open wider, breathing hard as he tried not to stare to the point he starts drooling because, lord, you looked absolutely stunning all spread out on his bed, looking up at him with need, bottom lip bitten. He lined up, the blunt head of his cock pressing right against your entrance, and for a second he just stayed there, breathing hard, eyes flicking up to yours like he was still fighting whatever storm was in his head.

“Tell me again,” he said, “tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” you breathed, pulling him down into a messy kiss, tongues sliding deep right away, “I want you inside me, Hee. Stop thinking and just take me.”

He groaned into your mouth and pushed forward.

The first inch stretched you open, slow and thick. You both gasped against each other’s lips.

“Fuck—you’re so tight,” he muttered, forehead pressed to yours, hips trembling as he held still, “just the tip and you’re already gripping me like that. You okay?”

You nodded quickly, nails dragging lightly down his back, “keep going, I can take more.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, almost desperate, and rolled his hips forward on the second thrust as another inch sank in. The burn was sharp but so fucking good your back arched.

“Shit—baby,” he groaned, voice cracking. He sucked a hard mark right under your jaw, teeth grazing your skin as he pushed in a third time, slower, letting you adjust, “you feel—gosh, you feel unreal, i’m trying not to lose it already.”

Your nails dug in harder, scratching down his shoulder blades as he gave one more careful thrust and finally bottomed out, hips flush against yours. The full stretch made you moan loud into his mouth, legs tightening around his waist.

Heeseung stilled completely, breathing ragged against your neck, trying not to whimper, “talk to me. Does it hurt? Tell me the truth.”

“A little,” you whispered, “but I love it. You feel so deep already. Move, baby, I need you to move.”

He started with slow, deep rolls of his hips, grinding against you on every stroke like he was still trying to stay in control. But you could feel the tension building in his body, the way his fingers dug into your thighs a little harder each time.

“Yeah? Like this?” He asked, voice rougher now as he snapped his hips forward a little sharper, “you want me to fuck you harder?”

“Harder,” you moaned, nails raking down his back again, leaving red lines, “don’t be gentle tonight. I want all of it.”

He dropped his head to your neck and bit down hard, sucking yet another dark mark into your skin as his hips suddenly slammed forward. The thrusts turned brutal, the bed creaking loudly under you. His chain slapped against your chest with every snap of his hips. He was fucking you like he’d been holding back for months—desperate, almost punishing strokes that knocked the breath out of you.

“Fuck—fuck, baby,” he groaned against your throat, voice completely wrecked, “you’re taking me so fucking good. This pussy is mine tonight. Mine.”

You cried out and he kissed you again, tongues sliding messily while he pounded into you without any rhythm left. His hips stuttered, slamming harder, faster, completely mindless now, like every doubt in his head was being fucked out with every brutal thrust.

“Shit—I can’t—can’t slow down,” he panted, “you feel too good, gonna fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”

He was gone—eyes hazy, sweat dripping down his chest, hips snapping wildly as he lost himself inside you, chasing that raw, desperate need to prove he could be everything he thought you wanted. His chain bounced wildly against your chest, his fingers digging bruises into your thigh like he needed something to hold onto. 

You were right there with him, body tightening, moans spilling out against his mouth, when the intensity tipped over into something too much, too fast. Your hand shot back, fingers digging into his hip.

“Heeseung—stop. Stop for a second.”

He froze mid-thrust, buried to the hilt, every muscle locking up at once. His breath hitched hard against your neck. For a long second the room was just the sound of both of you breathing, ragged and uneven. You could feel the panic crashing over him. 

“Fuck—did I hurt you?” His voice cracked, he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes already glassy with tears that spilled over when he blinked, “shit, I’m so sorry—I got too rough, I didn’t mean to, I was trying so hard not to be soft and I just—fuck, I thought if I fucked you harder you’d want me, you’d stay, I—”

His lip trembled. Another tear slid down his cheek and landed warm on your skin. He looked completely shattered, still deep inside you, like the idea that he might have hurt you was breaking him apart right there.

You cupped his face with both hands, thumbs gently brushing the tears from under his eyes, “baby, shh. You didn’t hurt me,” you whispered, voice soft, full of warmth, “not even a little. I promise. You feel so good, Hee. C’mon breathe with me, okay?”

He stared at you, eyes wide and wet, lips pressed tight together like he was trying not to fall apart completely. He gave the smallest shake of his head, refusing to speak at first.

You leaned up and kissed him, just a gentle press of your lips until he softened into it, a shaky little exhale leaving him. When you pulled back you kept your forehead against his, thumbs still stroking his cheeks.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “I can feel it, baby. Something’s been eating at you. Please talk to me.”

Heeseung swallowed hard, eyes fluttering shut for a second as another tear slipped free. His voice came out small, cracked, almost ashamed.

“Jaemin cornered me after class,” he whispered, “uh—he said I’m too soft, fucking whipped. That I’m just a pathetic rebound and you’d get bored of me in a week because someone like me could never keep a girl like you. Said you need someone who can actually fuck you right, not some gentle loser,” his breath hitched, “I just—I didn’t want to be that guy anymore. I wanted to prove I could be what you need, I know this isn’t what you wanted, our whole FWB thing.”

You stayed right there, forehead pressed to his, thumbs still gently wiping his tears as you looked at him with nothing but softness in your eyes, heart hurting at how the guy who makes you the happiest was reduced to some loser by your pathetic excuse of an ex. 

“I like you exactly how you are,” you let out, heat creeping up your neck, the position only making you feel more with his cock still buried deep in you. 

“Y—you like me?” He gasped as you licked his tear away, “really?”

“I do, Hee. I forgot about the whole no strings arrangement long back, I found myself wanting to spend more time with you, and who am I to deprive myself of happiness?” You chuckled, “you can’t force your feelings to go away, or change yourself, y’know? Fuck Jaemin, he doesn’t know shit, he could never make me cum and he definitely could never make me feel the way you do.”

Heeseung let out a shaky, broken exhale, his forehead still resting against yours as fresh tears welled up, “I thought—I thought I was ruining everything. I was so scared you’d realize I’m just the rebound, and you’d leave. I didn’t want to lose you, so I tried to be someone else tonight. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, “you didn’t ruin anything, Hee, not even close. You could never ruin this. I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere, I don’t mind you being rough or soft, yeah?”

He swallowed hard, “I don’t want to be rough, I never really did. I just, I thought that’s what you needed from me. But I want to be soft with you, can I—can I do that? Please?”

You couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped you, the sound made his lips twitch, and then he was smiling—small, shy, and so genuinely relieved it made your heart squeeze. He immediately hid his face in the crook of your neck, embarrassed, his breath warm against your skin as he let out a quiet, shy laugh of his own.

“Stop laughing at me,” he mumbled into your neck, but you could hear the smile in his voice, the way his shoulders relaxed.

“I’m not laughing at you,” you whispered, still chuckling as you threaded your fingers through his hair, “I’m laughing because you’re adorable, and I like you like this. Exactly like this.”

Heeseung lifted his head just enough to look at you again, eyes still glassy but now shining with something brighter as he managed another kiss, pouring every unsaid feeling into it. When he pulled back, his voice was soft. 

“I love you,” he breathed out, “I’m so in love with you. I don’t want no-strings, I want everything. Mornings where I wake up and you’re stealing my hoodie. Nights where we fall asleep tangled up like this, and I want all of it with you.”

You smiled against his lips, heart so full it felt like it might burst, “I’m falling in love with you too, Hee, I want all of that with you too.”

He whined, kissing you all clumsy, rolling his hips in long, loving strokes that made you feel every inch of him. The pace was unhurried, like he wanted to savor every second.

“Feel that?” He whispered, forehead pressed to yours, eyes locked on you, “I love being inside you like this. I love feeling you around me—so warm, so perfect.”

You moaned softly, legs wrapping tighter around him as you rocked up to meet his slow thrusts, “you feel so good, baby.”

Heeseung smiled again with a giggle, hiding his face in your neck for a moment before kissing along your throat, “you’re so beautiful,” he murmured between kisses, “the way you look when I’m inside you, the little sounds you make, I could stay like this for hours. Just loving you, just making you feel good.”

His hand found yours, lacing your fingers together and pinning it gently above your head while the other slid down to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, tender circles. Every thrust was accompanied by quiet words—I love you, you feel incredible, never letting you go, whispered against your skin like prayers.

You squeezed his hand, “I love how you make me feel safe, don’t ever change, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise, i just want to make you feel loved. Every single day.”

The room filled with nothing but the soft creak of the bed, your quiet moans, and his gentle praises. He kept the pace slow and deep, grinding against you on every thrust so your clit rubbed perfectly against him. His lips never left your skin—kissing your neck, your jaw, your mouth, your collarbone like he couldn’t bear to stop touching you.

“You’re everything to me,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion as he rolled his hips again, “I’m so lucky you’re mine. So fucking lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one, baby. Now keep loving me just like this, I never want this to end.”

Heeseung smiled against your mouth, eyes shining with pure adoration, and did exactly that—loving you slow, deep, and full of so much tenderness it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared.

Just the two of you, and the moonlight in the room. 

MEANWHILE:

You shushed Heeseung for the nth time as he smiled against your palm, but you were serious, peering down the hallway from the narrow alcove where you’d both hidden behind a pillar.

“Stop smiling, you’re going to get us caught,” you whispered, though your own grin was fighting to break free.

Heeseung only chuckled quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your wrist, “can’t help it. You look so adorable trying to be all serious.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart felt warm as his arms stayed wrapped around your waist from behind, chin resting on your shoulder.

The classroom door finally swung open. Students spilled out, and then Jaemin stepped into the hallway, laughing loudly with his friends.

The second you saw him, you stepped out without hesitation, you lifted the chilled cup and poured the entire icy matcha straight over his head from the first floor, the aim being too good to your surprise. 

Jaemin gasped, stumbling back as green liquid drenched his hair and hoodie, “what the fuck—”

Loud laughter exploded from the crowd around him. Phones came out instantly, people whistling and clapping, and you didn’t stay to admire your work.

You grabbed Heeseung’s hand and ran, both of you sprinting down the side hallway until you ducked into an empty stairwell, breathless and laughing.

“Oh my god, his face,” you wheezed, back pressed against the wall.

Heeseung leaned over you, one hand beside your head, smiling so beautifully it made your knees weak—eyes crinkled, full of pure adoration and joy.

“You’re insane, taking revenge for me again,” he said softly, “and I’m so in love with you.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek. He leaned in and kissed you sweetly, so full of everything you two had become. When he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he was still smiling that same breathtaking smile.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, grinning, and you did mean it with your whole heart as you proceeded to say. 

“I love you more.”

THANK YOU FOR READING

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[hoonguin]

꒰﹕﹒home invasion ❀ lee heeseung

 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎written for the heart’s mailroom event ! ༊

✷ your strict parents raised a sneaky daughter, and lee heeseung, your boyfriend of four years, is proof of it !

pairings ⸝⸝ ‎bf!heeseung ✿ f!rea‎ ‎ ‎ ✉️‎ ‎ ‎ wc ⸝⸝ 6.3k

🗯️ 内容‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ explicit sexual content ♫ 18+ ⸝⸝ intended for mature audiences | minors do not interact ᯓ secret & established relationship, cussing, overstimulation, first-time sex, loss of virginity, protected p in v, oral (f. & m. receiving), slight dacryphilia, praise, dirty talk, emotional intimacy, aftercare !

⟶ mentioned ⋮ hoshi (seventeen) ₊ ryujin (itzy) ₊ sunoo (enhypen)

EL’S ✷ BUBBLE : 2000s era, no fixed place because we’re here for vibes only <//3 hee & rea are about 20-21 here by the way ! also this is very much fueled by my lifelong doawk nerd tendencies and rodrick heffley resurfacing in my brain again . . . thank you so muchi for the request ! i lawb you ❤︎ enjoy my ever-so-lovely hoonguin nation (‾◡◝)

The rain came down in unforgiving sheets, harsh against your bedroom window, the sound of it filling every quiet space in the room. Water streaked down the glass so heavily the city lights outside looked blurred and distorted, turning everything beyond your room into watercolor smudges of yellow, red, and white.

“You’re soaking, Hee. Like, genuinely soaking,” you scolded, standing in front of him with a towel in your hands. “You’re going to get sick one day, I swear. Actually, no, you wouldn’t even be sick if you stopped climbing through my window every time it rains.”

Your flip phone had long since been abandoned somewhere on your bed after you hung up on him thirty minutes ago, your CosmoGirl magazine laying face-down on the carpet beside your desk chair. Your computer screen still glowed dimly from across the room, Facebook left open mid-scroll, photos of your classmates crammed into tiny albums — parties, cheap drinks, blurry peace signs held toward cameras.

Everyone else your age seemed to spend Friday nights somewhere loud.

Heeseung spent his climbing onto your roof.

He sat by the window nook now, completely drenched, hoodie clinging to his skin while droplets of rainwater dampened the built-in seat beneath him. Dark strands of hair dripped onto his forehead as the storm battered against the glass just beside him. The faint smell of rain followed him inside, familiar enough that you’d long since started associating it with him.

It wasn’t even hard for him to get in anymore.

Your room sat at the very front of the house, the small roof over the entryway sticking out just enough for him to pull himself up if he was careful. Four years together had apparently given him enough experience to do it almost effortlessly.

Well — mostly effortlessly.

“You act like I almost died getting here,” he muttered, lips pressed into a pout while you aggressively rubbed the towel over his head.

“You slipped last time.”

“I caught myself.”

“You almost took the gutter down with you.”

“But I didn’t.”

“You literally scared the shit out of me, Hee.”

Heeseung only grinned at that, soft and annoyingly pleased with himself, like your concern was something precious he wanted to keep.

You sighed dramatically, though your hands gentled almost immediately as you continued drying his hair.

Four years.

Sometimes it still startled you.

You’d started “dating” at sixteen in the careless, unserious way high schoolers often did — passing notes during class, sharing wired earphones during lunch, sneaking around after school with no real understanding of what commitment actually meant. Half the time, the two of you had only dated because your friends insisted you already acted like a couple anyway.

Back then, everything with him had felt light.

Fun.

He’d walk you home carrying your backpack even when you told him not to. You’d spend entire phone calls arguing about songs neither of you actually hated. He’d steal fries off your tray at lunch and swear your food somehow tasted better than his.

You’d broken up once for three days during junior year because he forgot your monthsary.

Then got back together because both of you were miserable about it.

Stupid teenage things.

But somewhere between then and now, things had shifted quietly into something deeper.

It happened slowly enough that neither of you noticed at first.

The late-night calls became late-night conversations about the future. The casual “I miss you” texts turned into him showing up outside your house after bad days because he couldn’t stand knowing you were upset alone. You started becoming part of each other’s routines without trying.

Without asking.

Now he climbed through your bedroom window in thunderstorms just because he wanted to see you for an hour before going home.

The worst part was that you always let him in.

“You’re staring,” he said suddenly.

You blinked, realizing your hands had stopped moving.

“Yeah, staring at this insane man in front of me.”

“That’s not what that look was.”

“Yes, it was.”

He laughed softly under his breath, reaching up to wrap his fingers loosely around your wrist before pulling your hand away from the towel entirely.

“I wanted to see you, pretty,” he murmured.

The teasing tone he usually carried was gone now, replaced by something quieter. More sincere.

Outside, thunder rolled somewhere far off.

“You always tell me to chase after the things I want, right?” he continued, eyes fixed on yours. “So I came here.”

Your expression softened immediately despite yourself.

God.

Four years later, and he still knew exactly how to get away with things.

You dropped the towel onto the floor beside him before stepping closer, your hands moving to cup his rain-cold cheeks. His skin was freezing beneath your palms, but he leaned into your touch instantly anyway, eyes fluttering for half a second like he’d been waiting for it.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Still, you leaned forward anyway, pressing a lingering kiss against his forehead.

His shoulders relaxed beneath your hands almost immediately.

Then, quieter this time, with the corners of your mouth lifting into a smile, “Whatever you say, loser.”

It was no surprise to anyone that your parents were probably the strictest people alive.

Even random strangers you talked to in online chatrooms knew about it.

You were legally an adult already, yet somehow still lived under rules stricter than most middle schoolers. But technically, it made sense — you still lived under their roof while attending college. You’d had plenty of opportunities to move out, plenty of reasons to, too, but staying home meant attending your dream university without constantly worrying about tuition, rent, groceries, or whether you’d survive off instant noodles for the rest of the semester.

So you stayed.

In exchange, your freedom was practically nonexistent.

Your parents were the kind of people who believed every horrifying thing printed in newspapers or aired on television. One kidnapping case three cities away suddenly meant you weren’t allowed outside past seven. A segment about drunk driving meant lectures during dinner for an entire week. Every terrible thing they heard only made them tighter, stricter, more protective.

Most parents loosened their grip as their children grew older.

Yours only held on harder.

They had rules for everything. Honestly, the list was probably longer than the Code of Hammurabi itself.

No smoking. No drinking. No parties. No clubbing. Curfew before sunset unless it involved academics. Finish your chores before touching anything remotely enjoyable. Most importantly — absolutely no boyfriends.

Unfortunately for them, strict parents rarely created obedient children.

They created sneaky ones.

And you were living proof of that.

Drinking?

You started around a year ago.

Your first time happened with your boy best friend, Hoshi, during what your parents believed was an innocent afternoon walk. Somehow, that “walk” turned into the two of you sitting outside in broad daylight with cheap alcohol burning down your throat while you tried not to cough your lungs out in front of him.

The taste was awful.

But the feeling afterward wasn’t.

For the first time in a while, your mind felt quiet. Warm. Easy. Like every frustrating thing weighing on your shoulders had blurred around the edges for a couple of hours.

You still remembered desperately forcing yourself to eat afterward so your breath wouldn’t smell suspicious when you got home. Sitting around for nearly an hour pretending to scroll through your phone while trying to sober up enough to look normal in front of your parents.

Smoking?

That happened a few months ago.

Ryujin handed you a cigarette outside a convenience store while the two of you were buying materials for a class project. You only meant to try one drag out of curiosity.

You nearly choked to death immediately after.

Ryujin laughed so hard she had to hold onto the side of the building.

Then there was the biggest rule of all.

No boyfriends.

Which was ironic, considering you’d already had one since sophomore year of high school.

Four years.

Four entire years of sneaking around your parents behind carefully constructed lies and perfectly rehearsed excuses.

Late-night phone calls whispered beneath your blanket. “Group studies” that were actually dates. Deleted messages. Fake stories. Secret kisses stolen before you went back home pretending nothing happened.

It was exhausting sometimes.

Stressful, absolutely.

But thrilling, too.

Because despite the rules, the lying, the double life — you loved it so, so much.

You loved the freedom hidden inside rebellion.

And maybe, just maybe, you loved him enough to risk getting caught.

Heeseung was sitting in your desk chair now, lazily scrolling through your open tabs of Tumblr and Facebook like he owned the place.

Every few seconds, another ridiculous post from your university friends flashed across the screen.

Photos taken inside crowded clubs with neon lights washing over flushed faces. Videos from late-night drives with music blasting so loudly the audio distorted. Someone posting about a spontaneous sleepover at some questionable motel in the middle of nowhere. Another group catching flights out of the country just because they could.

Everyone always seemed to be doing something.

Living.

Meanwhile, you were stuck sneaking your own boyfriend through your bedroom window like a criminal.

Heeseung, completely unbothered by the injustice of your life, leaned back comfortably in the chair while wearing his old basketball jersey from senior year — the one he’d given you after graduation along with a pile of other sentimental things he claimed “smelled too much like high school.”

The loose jersey exposed his arms entirely, toned biceps flexing every time he scrolled or clicked something on your computer mouse.

It was distracting.

Very distracting.

A pair of gray joggers hung low on his hips too — another thing technically hidden inside your room. He’d accidentally slept over around three months ago after both of you knocked out while studying, and in the panic of sneaking him out before sunrise, he’d forgotten them completely.

Thankfully, your parents had never found the container shoved into the back of your closet filled with clothes you “didn’t wear anymore.”

In reality, half of it belonged to him.

You sat cross-legged on your bed nearby, flipping through the last few pages of your magazine while occasionally glancing over at him.

The black lace trim of your camisole brushed against your skin every time you moved, soft fabric hugging your body comfortably. The beige middle contrasted against the dark details perfectly, and paired with your lounge shorts, the ones your aunt gifted you two Christmases ago, you looked effortlessly pretty without even trying.

Heeseung had already looked at you at least ten times in the last five minutes alone.

Then suddenly—

“Wait,” he said.

You glanced up lazily.

“Hm?”

He pointed at your computer screen.

A newly uploaded post from Ryujin filled the monitor, a blurry group picture of your girlfriends packed together inside some club bathroom, all glittery makeup and drunk smiles.

The caption read:

y/n was actually the one who took the photo (hella real) :-) #wemissyoubaddie #funnightout #yolo

Your face dropped instantly.

“Fuck my life, this is so stupid.”

The bitterness in your voice caught Heeseung off guard enough for him to turn fully toward you.

“What’s up?”

You tossed your magazine aside with far more force than necessary before dragging a hand down your face.

“It’s just so unfair sometimes,” you muttered. “Everyone gets to go out and do normal college things while I’m locked up in this house twenty-four seven like the apocalypse is about to happen.”

Heeseung stayed quiet, listening.

“My parents act like if I leave the house past sunset I’m immediately gonna end up dead in a ditch somewhere,” you continued, frustration spilling out faster now. “Ryujin literally sleeps over at random people’s apartments. Sunoo went to Batanes, that… northernmost province in the Philippines or whatever, for literally three days without even telling his parents first. I don’t even know how the hell he got the money for that! Ugh, everyone gets to just… live normally.”

You stood up from your bed abruptly and walked toward your desk, arms crossing tightly over your chest as you stared at the stupid Facebook post still glowing on your screen.

“And meanwhile I have to lie just to breathe.”

For a moment, the room went quiet except for the rain outside.

Then you felt his hands.

Heeseung reached for your waist gently, pulling you backward until you stumbled between his legs with a surprised laugh leaving your mouth.

“Hee—”

Before you could complain, he tugged you fully down onto his lap.

Instinctively, you settled there comfortably, your arms looping loosely around his shoulders while his hands stayed warm against your waist.

“Shhh,” he murmured softly, pressing his cheek against your stomach for a second. “It’s okay.”

You sighed dramatically despite melting into him immediately.

“It’s not okay.”

“It will be.”

He tilted his head back to look at you properly then, expression calmer than yours always seemed to be.

“You’ll get to experience all that stuff someday,” he said quietly. “The parties, trips, dumb late-night drives, all of it.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“You will. I’m so sure of it.”

The certainty in his voice made your chest ache a little.

He rubbed slow circles into your waist with his thumbs.

“And when you do,” he added with a small grin, “I’ll probably be there annoying you through all of it.”

That finally pulled a reluctant smile out of you.

“You’re already annoying.”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “But you like me anyway, no?”

The chair creaks beneath you, knees pressing into the cushion on either side of his thighs. Your hands rest on his shoulders, fingers curling into the soft cotton of the basketball jersey. Heeseung’s hands settle at your waist, his fingers moving in slow, careful circles as if he’s still learning the shape of where it’s safe to hold you. 

He looks up at you, and the lamplight carves shadows along the sharp line of his jaw. His lips part, then close. 

A beat passes. 

Then another.

You feel the heat creeping up your neck, the weight of his gaze making your skin prickle. So you pout, just a little, just to break the tension, a soft downturn of your lips that's half real, half teasing.

His eyes catch it immediately. A slow grin spreads across his face, lazy and warm.

"You're cute when you get pouty," he murmurs, thumbs stroking the bare skin just above the waistband of your lounge shorts.

Your eyes narrow, but there's no bite in it. "The window is right there if you wanna leave."

He laughs, low and short, and his hands tighten on your hips. "Not a chance, gorgeous."

You roll your eyes, but the smile gives you away. Your fingers slide from his shoulders into the hair at the nape of his neck, soft strands slipping between your knuckles. He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering half-shut for a second.

"You're so warm," you say, quieter now.

"So are you." His voice dips, rougher. "I feel like I'm burning up over here."

The air between you both immediately thickens. 

His hands move — one sliding up your spine, the other settling on your thigh, thumb tracing absent circles on the inside. The fabric of his joggers is soft against your bare skin, and you can feel the heat radiating off him through the thin layers.

You lean in first.

Your lips brush his gently at first, testing. His breath hitches, and then he's kissing you back, soft and slow, his mouth molding against yours like he's got all the time in the world. One hand cups the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your face just right.

The kiss deepens gradually. His tongue traces your bottom lip, asking, and you part for him. The taste of him floods your senses, warm, faintly sweet from the soda he had earlier, utterly addictive. A small sound escapes your throat, swallowed by his mouth.

His hand slides down your back, palm pressing flat against the dip of your spine, pulling you closer. The chair shifts as he adjusts, and you feel it — the growing hardness beneath his joggers, pressing against your inner thigh.

He breaks the kiss just enough to breathe, "Fuck, you taste good."

"Shut up," you whisper, but there's no heat in it. You pull him back in.

This time, the kiss turns messier. Teeth graze your lower lip, tugging, and his groan vibrates against your mouth. Your hips shift forward instinctively, grinding down against him, and the friction sends a jolt straight through you.

Heeseung's breath stutters. His hands grip your hips, steadying you, guiding you into a slow roll that makes the chair squeak in protest beneath you both.

"Yeah," he breathes, lips trailing along your jaw, down the column of your throat. "Just like that, baby."

Your nails dig into his shoulders through the jersey. His mouth finds the hollow of your collarbone, sucking lightly, and your head falls back with a soft moan. His tongue soothes the spot, then he's kissing his way back up to your lips.

"You're shaking," he says against your mouth, half a question, half a statement.

"Mmm." You're not sure if it's from want or nerves or both. "Shut up and kiss me."

He laughs, breath warm and distracting. "Bossy."

But he does. His lips capture yours again, hungrier now, tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that makes your head spin. His hand leaves your hip to palm your breast through the lace of your camisole. The fabric is thin enough that you feel every ridge of his fingers, every press of his thumb as he finds your nipple and rolls it gently.

You gasp into his mouth. He smiles against your lips.

"Like that, baby?"

"Don't—" You cut yourself off with a shaky breath. "Don't be smug."

"Never." His thumb keeps circling, and his other hand slides down to grip your ass, pulling you harder against him. The pressure of his cock against your core is maddening through the layers of fabric.

You rock your hips again, a little more desperate this time, and the chair groans loudly beneath you. Heeseung's head falls back, eyes squeezing shut, a low groan rumbling from his chest.

"Fuck," he pants. "You're gonna make me lose my mind."

"What’s holding you back then? Let me."

Your hand slides down his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath your palm. His abs tense under your touch, and he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes as you trail your fingers lower, over the waistband of his joggers, stopping just short of where he's straining against the fabric.

"Please," he whispers, voice cracking.

"Please what?"

He swallows hard. "Please keep touching me. Don't—shit, don’t stop."

You lean in, lips brushing his ear. "Don’t sweat it."

Then you kiss him again — deep, consuming, all tongue and teeth and desperate little sounds. His hips buck up against you, instinct taking over, and you grind back down, matching his rhythm. The chair rocks with you, a steady creak-creak-creak that fills the room along with your mingled breaths.

His hand slides under your camisole, palm flat against your stomach, then higher until he's cupping your bare breast. His thumb flicks across your nipple, and you moan into his mouth.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at you. Your lips are swollen, your hair a mess, your eyes dark and hazy. He brushes a strand behind your ear, gaze soft. "So fucking beautiful."

"Kiss me again," you demand, breathless.

He does. He kisses you until your lungs burn, until the world narrows down to the press of his body against yours, the heat of his palm on your skin, the way his hips roll up to meet yours with increasing urgency.

His mouth trails down your throat, teeth scraping over your pulse point, sucking a mark into the sensitive skin there. Your fingers tighten in his hair, holding him close.

"Baby," he gasps against your collarbone. "I need—I need more."

"I know." Your voice is ragged. "I know."

He lifts his head, eyes meeting yours, pupils blown so wide they're almost black. His lips are red and wet, his breathing uneven. He looks ruined already, and you've barely started.

His thumb traces your hip bone through the fabric of your shorts. "Can I—"

"Yes."

The word tumbles out before he even finishes. You don't need to hear the rest. You want this. You want him.

His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts, tugging gently, asking again with his eyes. You nod, and he takes a shaky breath before sliding his hand lower, palm pressing against the heat of you through your underwear.

Your breath hitches. His eyes lock on yours, watching every flicker of expression.

"Okay?" he whispers.

"Okay."

He kisses you again, softer this time, while his fingers begin to explore, tracing the outline of you through the damp fabric. Your hips twitch against his hand, chasing the pressure.

The chair creaks. Your heart pounds. His thumb circles slowly, deliberately, and you break the kiss to bury your face in his shoulder, moaning against the fabric of his jersey.

"I've got you," he murmurs into your hair. "I've got you, baby."

His middle finger drags through the slick fabric of your underwear, from your entrance up to your clit, pressing just enough to make your hips jump. You feel the heat of your own arousal soaking through the cotton, and from the way his breath catches, he feels it too.

"Fuck," he breathes, pulling back to look at you. His eyes are dark, hungry. "You're wetter than I was earlier, and I was standing in the rain without an umbrella or anything."

Your face goes scorching. The crimson climbs up your neck, floods your cheeks, burns the tips of your ears. You can't even look at him. You press your face back into his shoulder, mortified, and your hand flies down to swat his away from between your legs.

"Hey—" he starts, but you’re already guiding one of his hands where you want it, slipping it under your camisole so it rests against your skin. 

"Up here," you mumble against his jersey. "Focus on this."

He laughs, low and warm, but his fingers curl slightly as he keeps his hand under your camisole, steady against your skin. "Yeah? This is what you want?"

You nod, face still hidden.

He squeezes gently, thumbs finding your nipples, and a shaky breath escapes you. "Okay, baby. I got you. Whatever you need."

He massages you, slow and deliberate, both hands kneading your breasts while his thumbs circle your nipples until they're pebbled and aching. Your hips start moving again on their own, rolling against his joggers, seeking friction. The length of his cock presses against your core through the layers, and the feeling of it, thick and hard, straining against the soft cotton, makes your mouth go dry.

"I want you so bad," you whisper, the words spilling out before you can stop them. Your hips grind down slowly, deliberately, feeling him twitch beneath you. "You feel so, so good. So fucking big."

You bite your lip, and a soft moan spills from your throat, high and breathy.

His eyes darken. His hands tighten on your breasts, and he pulls you into another kiss, rough and demanding, all tongue and teeth and desperation. His hips buck up to meet yours, and the chair groans beneath the weight of both of you moving together.

He breaks the kiss, breathing hard. "Bed. Now."

Before you can respond, he stands, lifting you with him. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, and he carries you across the room, still kissing you, mouths slotting together in between ragged breaths. He pauses at the door, reaches back without looking, and twists the lock. The click echoes in the quiet room.

Then he carries you past the window nook, and you feel him pause again. He pulls back just enough to glance at the curtain, thin, pale, letting in the faint glow of the streetlight outside. He reaches over and yanks it closed, the rings scraping along the rod until the fabric is fully drawn, sealing the two of you in.

He lays you down on the bed, and the mattress dips beneath your weight. He follows you down, hovering over you, but then he sits back on his heels, hands finding the hem of your camisole.

"Can I?"

You nod, breathless.

He pulls it up and over your head, and the cool air hits your bare skin. Your breasts are fully exposed now, and his eyes go wide, his breath stuttering out of him.

"Holy shit," he says, voice barely above a whisper. His gaze drags over you, slow and reverent. "Your breasts are so big. Tiny ass waist..." He trails a finger down your sternum, between your breasts, over your stomach. "This is what you've been hiding from me?"

Your cheeks burn, but there's a thrill in his awe that makes you feel powerful. "Maybe, we’ll never know."

He shakes his head, letting out a disbelieving laugh. "Unreal."

His hands find your shorts next, hooking into the waistband and pulling them down your legs. Your underwear goes with them, and then you're bare beneath him, completely naked, and the vulnerability of it hits you all at once.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "You smell so good," he murmurs against your mouth. "Everything shower?"

A surprised laugh bubbles out of you. "Yeah, actually."

He grins. "Knew it. You always smell like vanilla and something sweet. Drives me insane."

His hand slides down your body, fingers trailing over your stomach, through the coarse hair between your legs, until he reaches your slick folds. His middle finger glides through the wetness, gathering it, and you shiver at the touch.

"Look at you," he says softly, watching his own finger move. "So fucking wet for me. Is this all for me, baby?"

You can barely nod. Your breath comes in short, shallow gasps.

His finger circles your clit, featherlight, and your hips jerk. "That's it. Just relax. Let me take care of you."

He slides one finger inside you, slow, and the stretch makes your eyes flutter shut. He's barely in, just the tip, and already it feels like so much. He watches your face carefully, reading every micro-expression.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "Keep going."

He pushes deeper, inch by inch, until his finger is fully sheathed inside you. The feeling is strange and full and good, and you clench around him instinctively.

"There you go," he murmurs. "Feel that? That's me inside you. Just one finger. Gotta get you ready for more, yeah?"

You whimper, and he starts to move, sliding in and out at a torturously slow pace. His thumb finds your clit, pressing tight circles, and the dual sensation makes your back arch off the mattress.

"That's it. That's my good girl. Taking me so well."

A moan builds in your chest, rising, and when it spills from your lips it's too loud — a sharp, breathy cry that cuts through the quiet room.

Heeseung's hand claps over your mouth instantly, but his smile is wicked. "Shh," he whispers, leaning close, lips brushing your ear. "We don't want Mr. and Mrs. L/N to hear their lovely daughter get fucked right now, do we?"

Your eyes go wide, and the heat floods your face again.

"Don't you?" he repeats, voice dropping lower. "Want me to stop?"

You shake your head frantically against his palm.

"Good girl," he says, and removes his hand.

He slides a second finger inside you, and the stretch is sharper this time, making you gasp. He pumps them slowly, curling them up, searching. When he finds that rough patch of nerves inside you, your whole body jolts.

"There it is," he breathes. "Right there, huh?"

He presses against it with every stroke, and your hands fly to the sheets, gripping them tight. His mouth descends on your breast, lips closing around your nipple, tongue flicking across the sensitive peak. He sucks gently, then harder, and the combination of his fingers inside you and his mouth on your chest has your mind going blank.

"So pretty," he murmurs against your skin, switching to the other breast, giving it the same attention. "Look at you. Taking my fingers so well. Think you can take my cock?"

You're not sure, but you want to try. "Yes," you manage. "Yes, I want it."

He kisses his way back up to your mouth, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to what his fingers are doing between your legs. "You're doing so good, baby. Tell me if it's too much."

"More," you whisper. "Please."

He withdraws his fingers, and you feel suddenly empty. He sits up, pulling his jersey over his head in one fluid motion, and your eyes travel over his bare chest. His shoulders are broad, his stomach toned, a light sheen of sweat making his skin glow in the dim light. You reach out, fingertips tracing the line of his collarbone, down his sternum.

He catches your hand, kisses your palm. "You can touch me all you want later. Promise."

He stands just long enough to push his joggers down, then his boxers, and his cock springs free — already hard, already dripping at the tip. Your breath catches. It's bigger than you expected. Thick. The sight of it makes your stomach flip with a mix of anticipation and nerves.

He wraps his hand around himself, stroking slowly. Three times. Once. Twice. Three. His eyes never leave yours.

"Enjoying the view, pretty?"

You can't form words. You just nod.

He climbs back onto the bed, positioning himself by your head. His cock is right there, inches from your face, and you can smell the clean scent of his skin, taste the salt in the air.

"Open up," he says softly. "Let me feel that pretty mouth."

You part your lips, and he guides himself inside. The weight of him on your tongue is heavy, unfamiliar, and you take him as best you can. His hand cradles the back of your head, not pushing, just holding.

"That's it. Nice and slow. Just the tip."

He moves gently, sliding in and out of your mouth at a pace that lets you adjust. His other hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear that slips from the corner of your eye.

"Doing so good for me, baby. Taking me so deep."

You gag slightly, and he stills immediately, giving you time to breathe.

"Okay?"

You hum around him, and he groans at the vibration.

"Fuck, that's good."

He keeps going, slow and deliberate, fucking your face with a tenderness that doesn't match the filth of the act. When he pulls out, a string of saliva connects his tip to your lips.

He kisses the corner of your mouth. "So perfect."

Then he moves down, settling between your legs. His fingers find your slick entrance again, sliding inside with ease. He pumps them slowly, watching your face, and you're already so sensitive from everything that every stroke makes you gasp.

"Look at you. So ready for me. But I want to hear you ask."

"Please," you whimper.

"Please what?"

"Please put it inside. Please, Hee."

His eyes darken. "Good girl."

He reaches over to where his wallet sits on the nightstand, pulls out a foil packet, tears it open with his teeth. You watch him roll the condom down his length, his hands steady, his gaze locked on yours.

He positions himself at your entrance. The head of his cock presses against you, and you feel the heat of him, the pressure, the promise.

"Ready?"

You nod, throat tight.

"Tell me if it hurts. We'll stop. I mean it."

"I know. I want this."

He pushes in.

The first inch is a stretch unlike anything you've ever felt. Your eyes roll back, and you fumble for the pillow, pressing it over your face to muffle the sound that tears from your throat.

He pulls the pillow away, gently but firmly. "No. I want to see you. I want to watch your face when I fill you up."

His hand covers your mouth instead, palm warm against your lips, and you're grateful for it as he pushes deeper. The stretch builds, a burning pressure that makes your eyes water, and then he's fully inside you, seated to the hilt.

He stills. Gives you time.

"Fuck," he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. "You feel... you're so tight. So fucking tight around me."

Your walls flutter around him, adjusting to the intrusion. He stays perfectly still, letting you feel him, letting your body learn the shape of him.

"Okay?" he whispers.

"Okay," you manage, voice muffled by his hand.

He pulls out slowly, then pushes back in. The drag of him inside you sends sparks through your entire body. He sets a rhythm, deep, slow, deliberate, and his hand stays over your mouth, his other hand gripping your ass, kneading the flesh.

"You're taking me so well," he murmurs against your ear. "First time for both of us, baby, yeah? Still feels like I’ve known your body forever.” 

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he kisses them away.

"My good girl. My perfect fucking girl. Do you feel that? That's me inside you. I'm the only one who gets to have you like this."

His pace quickens slightly, and the sound of him moving inside you, wet and rhythmic, fills the room. He reaches up and massages your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

"Look at your tits bounce while I fuck you. Fucking perfect."

The pressure builds in your belly, coiling tight. He feels it too, feels your walls clench around him.

"That's it. You gonna come for me? Gonna come on my cock?"

"I—Hee, baby—"

"Come for me, gorgeous. Let me feel you."

His hand moves from your mouth to wrap around your throat, not squeezing just enough to send a thrill through you, and he fucks you faster, deeper, chasing his own release.

"I'm close," he gasps. "Fuck, I'm so close."

"Inside," you plead. "Come inside."

He groans, his hips slamming into yours, and you feel him pulse inside you, feel the condom swell as he spills into it. The feeling of him coming, the way his body shakes, the way he moans your name — it pushes you over the edge.

"I'm coming," you gasp. "Baby, I'm coming—"

He fucks you through it, his pace never slowing, and the overstimulation makes you cry out. He dips his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth, and the sensation doubles, triples, splintering through you like lightning.

Your orgasm wrings you out, clenching around him, and he keeps thrusting, slow now, riding it out with you.

When it subsides, he pulls out gently, and you feel empty again. He peels the condom off, and you watch as he strokes himself once, twice, spilling the remaining drops of his release onto your lips, your breasts.

"Open," he says softly, and you part your lips. He smears the last of it across your bottom lip, then leans down and kisses you, tasting himself on your mouth.

Then he disappears between your legs.

His mouth descends on your sensitive core, tongue flat against your folds, lapping up the mess of your release and his. You squeak at the intensity, thighs clamping around his head, but he grips your hips and holds you open.

"None of that. Let me taste you."

His tongue circles your clit, flicks across it, and your hips buck off the mattress. He eats you out like he's starving, tongue plunging inside you, then dragging back up to your clit.

"You taste so wet. Could drink you all night."

It's too much. It's not enough. Your hands find his hair, gripping, pulling, and he groans against you, the vibration sending you spiraling.

The second orgasm hits you before you're ready, sharp and sudden, and you cry out his name as you come undone on his tongue.

He laps it all up, gentle now, letting you come down. When he finally surfaces, his chin is wet, his lips are red, and he's grinning.

He crawls up beside you, pulling you into his arms. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together.

"Hey," he murmurs. "Look at me."

You turn your head, meeting his gaze. His eyes are soft now, the heat faded, replaced with something tender.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face.

You blink up at him from where you are, he pulls the blanket over both of you carefully afterward, tucking you against his chest while warmth slowly settles beneath the covers.

“Good,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse. “Really good.”

His expression eases immediately, thumb stroking gently across your waist.

“Any pain?”

“A little sore,” you admit quietly. “But it’s okay.”

He leans down to press a slow kiss against your forehead, lingering there for a second longer than necessary.

“You did so well for me, baby,” he murmurs. “I know this was your first time.”

Your chest tightens a little at the tenderness in his voice.

“And it was yours too,” you whisper back.

A small smile spreads across his face.

“Yep,” he says softly. “Guess we trusted each other that much.”

You feel your eyes sting unexpectedly, emotion settling warm and heavy in your chest. Just something overwhelming and soft and impossibly intimate.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you mumble.

“Always.”

The answer comes instantly.

He pulls the blanket higher around your body afterward, making sure you’re fully covered before settling back against the headboard with you tucked securely against him. One of his hands slips into your hair, fingers combing through it slowly, while the other rests warm against your hip beneath the blanket.

Outside, rain still tapped quietly against the windows.

Inside, everything felt still.

Safe.

He presses another kiss to the top of your head before mumbling softly against your hair—

“Get some rest, pretty. I’m not going anywhere.”

⭐ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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💿 ࿐ . . dirty little secret by the all-american rejects

✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !

[arelyvn]

☆ﾟ.･ ── MAKING PROGRESS ⋆ LHS

You pride yourself upon being perfect, whether its your grades, your hair, your outfit, but most of all—your reputation. so what happens when a single bad grade tilts you off that perfect axis? or rather, the boy introduced into your life because of it..

配对 ࿔ . . lee heeseung 𝔁 𝒻!reader

⌗ content warnings: college au , smut , slight angst , nerd! heeseung , he is into gaming-hes also working on his own game , hes obsessed with toy story (as we know) , hes absolutely pathetic , awkward moments , overthinking , reader is prideful and a little manipulative , corruption kink (ish??) , mentions of drinking (smoking in like one scene), jealousy issues , reader can be mean sometimes , heeseung is a sweetheart but a little gullible ✧ inexperienced hee , hand jobs , big dick hee (nerds are packing) , kinda sub hee , lowkey bulge kink , unprotected sex, pussy eating , face sitting (we’re bringing the freak out) , fingering , overstimulation , heeseung can stay hard after cumming multiple times , featuring: hyung line, sunoo, yunjin , let me know if i missed anything !

⌗ word count: 28.7k (yeah…)

Lee Heeseung was a nerd.

He wasn't unattractive by any means, just…overlooked. Didn't even fully grow into his features until his Senior year of high school. But before that, he was a full on loser, still is honestly.

He was the type of guy who stayed up until 3am coding just because he felt like it. Who had a specific shelf just for Marvel comics, and a separate one for DC, along with an area specifically for his character figure collection. All lined up in his room of the apartment he shared with his bestfriend, Jake–who also shared similar interests, except he tends to be more..normal about it. 

You on the other hand were the complete opposite. Gorgeous, like actually striking. You were popular, at least according to Heeseung you had a “shit ton of friends” he doesn't even know how you remember the names of that many people.  

But the first time Heeseung met you was the first day of classes in fall semester, Econ to be exact. Your low rise jeans paired with a fitted long sleeve. Hair styled perfectly, yet you made it seem effortless. You tend to do that actually, act completely normal without knowing how much of an effect you have on the people around you. 

He had both of his earbuds in, like always–scrolling mindlessly through a twitter thread that was debating on whether League of Legends was a good game or not, spoiler alert it is. Anyone else who differs can argue with the wall. 

“Is anyone sitting here?” You had asked, when he didn't answer the first time you tapped his shoulder once. He remembers the moment his eyes landed on your face vividly, because fuck–you were pretty. 

“Is anyone sitting here?” You repeat, already half annoyed with the fact that this was one of the three seats left in the lecture hall, and you weren't sitting in the front. He looks down at the seat next to him, “Oh no– I mean yes, well not anymore– so no, You can sit, not like I'm forcing you or anything. But uh, it's not taken.”

You nod slowly “Um, Okay..” Before sitting down, your light pink bag hanging from your chair. He now has both of his earbuds out, phone clutched in his hand– because no way was he letting you see that he scrolls through twitter threads for fun.

You look over at him, the way he's sitting up perfectly in his chair, fingers twisting the wire of his earbuds. “Do you always do that?” You ask, eyes trailing along the side of his face. Observing the slope of his nose. “Do..what?” He asks, thankful his voice didn't crack. 

“Talk like your brain is still loading.” He lets out a laugh, “Pretty much everyday.” He says, watching your face for a reaction. You smile, it's small–but he notices it.

He lets out a breath when the professor enters, half relieved, but also half annoyed that he can’t delve deeper into conversation with a pretty girl like you. Even if it is only by convenience. 

You don't miss the looks, you never do. His gaze shifting from the professor discussing things from the syllabus, to you–a literal goddess sitting next to him, as he would say. 

You caught him once, but he thought he was smooth with the quick way he averted his eyes. After that first class he cursed himself for being so damn obvious– God, you probably think he's some perverted freak. Yet you still sat beside him the next day, and the day after that– actually for the rest of the semester.

You didn't talk to him unless it was necessary, like asking him if he wrote down a slide of notes you missed, or that one time you dropped your pen on the ground just under his chair. 

He remembers having to bend down slightly, face nearly in your lap just to pick it up. Forcing himself not to look at your bare legs before handing it back to you.

Your casual smile and “Thanks” before acting completely normal again, like you didn't just make his insides to a full 360 from just a smile– no teeth either! 

When that class ended just before winter break, he couldn't help how disappointed he was. What do you mean he wouldn't be able to see your face anymore?—or smell your vanilla perfume every time you shifted in your seat!

He remembers Jakes roll of his eyes having to hear him talk about what a tragedy it was. “Dude– it's not like you won’t see her again, remember you still go to the same university?” Yeah you attend the same school, but the closest he ever got to you was sitting next to you in that class. Other than that—you wouldn't even look his way. 

“...earth to Heeseung?” Jake's voice cuts through his train of thought, and his line of sight as his eyes stray away from you, laughing and talking with your friends at a table outside. Jake looks back, spotting you through the window of the campus dining haul. “Seriously dude?” Jake sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

“What were you saying?” Heeseung asks, taking another bite of his food. “I was saying that I finished episode six of that anime you put me on– man that fight scene was actually crazy, I literally–” He watches Heeseung's eyes stray away from him, landing on you again for like the 10th time in the last 20 minutes.

“Alright there's something seriously wrong with you” Jake says—or more like interrupts. “What? I'm fine.” Heeseung claims defensively, “No– you've been staring in the same direction for the past 20 minutes like a creep. I'm honestly surprised she hasn't felt you looking at her this whole time.” Jake states, “I was not staring at her like a creep–”

“No you definitely were.” 

“Whatever dude, it's not like she’d notice anyway.” Heeseung pokes at his food with the plastic fork. “Yeah, she's too busy being Miss. Perfect..” Jake exaggerates. “She really is perfect, isn't she..” Heeseung says, glancing over at you once again.

Little did they know that was far from the truth, yeah you made sure you at least looked good, but your grades were faltering. Specifically in Physics– and especially with your annoying ass professor. 

“She literally called on me in the middle of class today, I couldn’t even think of an answer which made me look even more stupid than guessing.” You groan, careful not to wipe at the mascara on your eyes. “That's Professor Kim for you.” Yunjin says, taking one of your fruits from your tray. “It was pretty embarrassing.. But the “It's so obvious” comment from her wasn’t necessary.” Sunoo adds with a face. 

“Oh and it gets worse.” You say, looking at the both of them. “You know how she made me stay after class right?” You look at Sunoo who nods, “Yeah, well she full on printed a paper for me to turn into the tutoring center, stating everything I'm struggling with and told me that I was going to need to find help as soon as possible or I was going to fail her class.” You finish in one breath, 

“So, you’re going to have to get a tutor then..” Yunjin clarifies warily, looking down at the paper you place on the table.

“Yeah because apparently my performance in her class is "Concerning" and she even said I was lucky to have this opportunity! You know– I would never hit someone but God her face was really slappable in that moment–” 

Sunoo interrupts before you can go any further, reading off the list of things “Difficulty with free body diagrams, inconsistent use of formulas, lack of problem-solving structure..Damn, she really has it out for you.” He says, putting the paper down.

“I mean half the time she rambles on like she knows something, and her equations all blend together anyway!” You groan in frustration, both Sunoo and Yunjin looking at each other. “I mean.. Maybe tutoring wouldn't be so bad..” Yunjin suggests, sipping her water. “Just give it a chance, it really can’t hurt y/n.” Sunoo adds, “It hurts my ego, my pride– hell, even my reputation.” You snatch the paper back, shoving it in your bag.

“Not everyone is perfect, including you babe.” Yunjin says, trying to be reassuring. “No, but I need to be.” You frown, standing up. “Where are you going–” Sunoo starts

“Turning in this damn tutoring paper to the library. I need to get this over with, like now–before I change my mind.” 

And that's exactly what you did, handing the paper to the woman at the front desk, “You’ll get a message sent when we’ve found your tutor, along with a time and date.” She says, typing on her comically large computer. “Wait, I don't get to choose the day?” You ask, twisting the ring on your finger. 

She looks up at that “No, since it's the tutors time you're using.” She says, looking back down– you almost open your mouth to say something like “My time is just as valuable.” But ultimately decide not to, before smiling and walking away. 

—

“He’s on me—Fuck!” Heeseung yells into his headset, watching as his video game character dies yet again.

“Jake, dude im literally going to lose my rank–what the fuck man.” He says, ripping off his headset, not wanting to hear the excuses his best friend has to give for playing like shit, even if he is right down the hall. 

Heeseung nearly presses the power off button on his monitor before a notification pops up, the loud sound overpowering the faint background music of the video game lobby. 

Gmail: Tutoring Lab Information

Fuck— he had forgotten all about that, signing up to tutor for some extra credits. There goes at least a few hours of trying to level up his rank on League.

He runs a hand through his already messy hair before clicking the notification to expand it.  Reading through it quickly– “We are aware you’ve gotten a 90 or higher in this class–blah blah blah– good choice okay whatever..” Heeseung stills as his eyes land on the next few words.

Selected Student: Y/n L/n

“No fucking way.” He rubs his eyes once—twice, just to make sure he's not seeing things. Then he laughs, disbelieving, because this has to be a typo, there's no actual way you need tutoring.

He scrolls back up in the email– ah, Professor Kim, Physics. Now that makes sense. He scrolls down again, just to re-read your name plastered in bold on his screen. And better yet, your phone number, right underneath it.

He could fall to his knees right now, seriously–Thanking the universe for this spectacular moment. Almost immediately he picks up his phone, fumbling over the disorganized apps–mostly just games, before finding messages. Typing your number in the add on box, he pauses– how the hell does he even go about this. 

“Hey, I know I stared at you all of econ last semester and it was probably totally obvious, oh and also, I still do because it's kind of hard to look away. So now I'm tutoring you–oh and I have a massive crush on you too that makes me feel like a pathetic middle schooler.” 

Yeah absolutely not.

You pick up your phone, drying your wet hair with your towel but pause when the notification slides down at the top. 

Maybe: Lee Heeseung: Hey, I saw that you needed a tutor for Physics. The tutoring lab assigned me to you, does Thursday at 4:00 work for you?

Great, they weren't kidding about how it's on their schedule. But that name—Lee Heeseung. Where do you know it from.. You open the message, typing out a bland reply.

You: Yeah that's fine.

Lee Heeseung: Great, ill see you there

Heeseung re-reads over the message he sent multiple times, maybe he's over thinking it but you sound upset. It’s just words on a screen and he's no empath, so maybe he's just overthinking right? Haha, right?

“Bro—obviously she’s going to be fucking pissed, she literally prides herself upon being perfect. But honestly if it's Professor Kim and her Physics lessons on top of that, I understand why she needs it.” Jake says, handing Heeseung's phone back to him. “I honestly don't even know how you got a 96 in that class either.” He adds. 

“But still, isn’t the universe kind of on my side with this? I mean out of all people– she gets assigned to me.” Heeseung says, looking at the messages one more time. “I dunno’ man, all I have to say is don’t do that weird staring thing.” Jake says, standing up.

“What weird staring thing?” He asks, genuinely confused. “The one where you try to undress someone mentally and physically with your eyes.” Jake states like it's obvious

“I don’t even do that–?” Heeseung says defensively, leaning against his gaming chair. “Yeah alright, just whatever you’re planning, don’t be weird about it.” Jake mutters before walking out of his room, shutting the door behind him.

“I wasn't even going to do anything weird..” Heeseung mumbles under his breath. 

-

“Wait—you said Lee Heeseung?” Sunoo asks, leaning over your phone to get a closer look. “Uh– yeah?” you eye him, turning to Yunjin who looks just as confused.

“He’s literally in my Computer science class, and don’t you remember he was in your econ one last semester?” He adds, raising a brow.

“Wait– the guy who stared at her all the time right?” Yunjin sits up straight, “Yeah, the guy with the nice nose.” Sunoo clarifies, watching the realization dawn.

“No—wait no, this isn't good—no, no, no. Because in that class I acted like some know it all, which I mean it was easy but now I'm going to him for tutoring.” You snatch your phone from Sunoo

“He probably thinks im some like—poser!” Sunoo and Yunjin watch you, “Who cares what he thinks—what are you doing?” Yunjin looks down at your phone “I'm cancelling." 

“No the fuck you’re not.” Sunoo says, taking your phone back. “You know what will happen to your perfect grades if you fail?” He asks, already knowing the answer. “Exactly, plus this guy is smart as hell, trust me.” He sets your phone back down on the table. “Just go y/n, what's the worst that could happen?” Yunjin adds.

Oh, I don’t know, maybe he’ll mansplain everything to me just like every other guy at this university tries to—or worse, make me feel like a complete and utter idiot.

But yet here you are anyway, denim shorts with a fitted top in all your glory since of course, today decided to be the day the cold weather breaks.

You really could be tanning right now, the smell of sunscreen filling your senses, but instead you’re hit with the scent of dry erase markers and stress.

The library door shuts behind you, a few students scattered around, you make your way up to the second floor where the study sessions are held, so it's not as quiet. 

“Oh–hey” he says, looking up at you–maybe trying to stop himself from staring too hard. You shouldn't even be surprised he’s already here, considering he was somehow always earlier than you for Econ last semester. 

You look down at the table he's seated at, notebook already open, pencil spinning between his fingers like he can't keep his hands still for more than five seconds. You hesitate for a second before walking over, “You’re early.” You say, looking at him.

“You’re late.” He says, you check the time on your phone. “It’s 3:58..?” You look down at his outfit, some random graphic tee, with jeans.

“And you were always five minutes early for Econ last semester, so it’s late for you.” He states like it's a fact. “Do you just want me to leave?” You cross your arms, annoyed already. “What–no, sorry. I just–hi.” His Adam's apple visibly bobs up and down as the words spill out. “..Hi.” 

You set your bag on the table, taking the seat next to him–completely normal for a tutoring session. Obviously you pull out your notebook with your failed attempts in copying down Professor Kim's problems from the board.

He doesn't miss the way you act like you’ve done this before, knowing very well you haven't. Mainly because you’re always too stubborn to ask for help.

He tries to ignore the vanilla smell radiating from you. “So, what are we struggling with then?” You exhale, already done with this. “Pretty much everything according to my professor.” He chuckles and you shoot him a glare.

“Sorry–I'm not laughing at you, it’s just– I know how professor Kim gets so I understand.” He clarifies quickly. “But let's try narrowing it down?” He suggests, “Fine.” 

“Okay, show me what you were doing on the last assignment.” You flip your light pink notebook open to the most recent page of what looks like scribbles before facing it towards him. He leans in, shoulder nearly touching yours. 

His hair looks soft…..Why are you thinking about his hair.

He scans the page from top to bottom, really looking– not trying to judge, but trying to understand, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Hm, Alright.” He says, looking at you. “I see what the problem is.” 

You sit up straighter, “Is it that bad?” You ask warily, “No–” He says quickly, reassuringly “It’s not, it’s just the set up.”

You cross your arms over your chest, “The whole page is the set up.” You state defensively.

“Not really,” He runs a hand through his hair, “You’re just starting the wrong way.” He reaches for your pencil—

“May I?” You nod, handing it to him. His fingers brushing yours in the process. He tries to ignore how that made him feel. That small singular touch of your finger– God, maybe he is a loser.

“Okay, let's start simple.” He says, drawing a wonky looking box. You tilt your head, “A box?” you ask curiously. “In physics, everything is a box.” He says casually, you let out a huff of a laugh despite the situation. 

He glances up, eyes falling to your mouth briefly before turning back to the page. He swallows once again. “Now the way Professor Kim does it, she assumes everyone just gets it– but I would say to not start with an equation.”

He goes on, looking at you once to make sure you’re paying attention. And you are, because you really do need this.

“These arrows–” he says, attempting to draw some “Are the forces acting on it.” You nod, “So.. I would draw this every time instead.” You ask, trying to understand. He nods, “Yup. It pretty much tells you what's happening before you try to solve it.” 

“No one’s ever really explained it that way..” you mutter under your breath, “Like I said, she thinks everyone just automatically understands the bs’ she writes on the board.” He shrugs

“Yeah well, some of us don't." He leans back, watching you look over the page. “Hey, that’s why we’re here y/n.” You turn to look at him, eyes roaming over his face in the way a pretty girl like you can, no questions asked. 

“Okay then,” You lean closer, “Do another one.” His eyebrows lift slightly at that “Bossy.” He notes outloud, “Get used to it,” You say with a smile, he huffs out a breath of amusement before flipping onto the next page, setting up another problem–leaning over a bit closer than necessary, but you don’t pull back.

-

“Okay so…what— you were flirting with him?” Sunoo asks, laying against the headboard of your bed.

“I mean, not like ‘I want you so bad’ flirting but kind of..?” You bite your lip in thought, holding another outfit up to your body, earning two head shakes from both Sunoo and Yunjin. 

“He gets nervous so quickly, it's kind of cute.” You say, roaming through your closet. “I said he was a good teacher and his ears got all red” You try not to laugh at the memory. 

“So, do you like him or something..?” Yunjin asks, scrolling on her phone. “What– no. I mean he’s like fun to tease and stuff.” You chuckle awkwardly, toying with the hem of a black halter top.

Sunoo raises a brow at that, “Is this one of your superior complex things, except this time it's the loser-nerd who's never felt the touch of a woman?” 

You throw the top in his direction “Sunoo!” Yunjin laughs, sitting up. “It’s just–none of the guys here actually like show it. You know what I mean? They try to be all nonchalant and stuff, but Heeseung– I don’t know, he's different.” You say, sitting on the bed beside Sunoo. 

“So like he’s an ego booster then?” you shoot Yunjin a glare “Well no–I just like how different his attention feels.” You murmur, picking up the halter top beside Sunoo and holding it up to you. The nod from both of them brings a smile to your face.

“Just be careful y/n.” Sunoo looks at you, “What? Is he one of those undercover playboys or something–” You say through a laugh

“No–God, definitely not. It’s just.. you don’t always realize the effect you have on people, and I don’t think he’d take it lightly..” You let out a quiet laugh, “Come on, he doesn't like me that much.” You say before standing up to find a skirt that would work perfectly with your top. You ignore the “Right..” that leaves his lips.

You were far from wrong though–because no, he likes you even more. Probably too much for yesterday evening being the first time he’s actually had a full conversation with you, even if it was for school.

“I mean that has to be flirting right?” Heeseung asks, completely distracted from the code he's almost done completing for this class. “Isn’t flirting like her second language though?” Jake questions, cursing under his breath when his code doesn't run smoothly. 

“What—no, right? She doesn't flirt with everyone.” Heeseung says, trying to convince Jake, or maybe even himself. “I dunno’ dude she has one of those personalities.” 

“Are you saying I'm reading into it too much?” Heeseung asks, fingers fidgeting with the string of his hoodie. “I just never see girls like that actually going for well— you know..” Jake starts “What? Guys like me?” Heeseung finishes, running a hand through his already messy hair. Jake opens his mouth to speak again but closes it—“Hey, Heeseung?” The feminine voice cutting through there conversation, drawing both of their attention.

“Oh hey, what's up Clair?” He says casually, “Are you guys doing anything tonight?” She asks, biting her lip nervously, “Shit– we have that league ranked thing–” Jake kicks his foot under the desk,

“No! We’re not!” Jake says cheerfully, practically beaming, earning a side eye from Heeseung. 

“Oh– Okay, cool.. Well there's this party, apparently everyone's going. Are you guys gonna be there?” she asks, specifically looking at Heeseung “I don't really do parties–” 

“Ow!” Heeseung seethes when Jake kicks his leg again. “Yeah, we'll be there!” Jake says through a smile

“Okay, I can text you guys the details!” She gives a small wave before walking back to her seat on the far end of the class. “What the fuck dude?” Heeseung whisper-yells. 

“See now that was flirting, and do you even remember the last time you went to a party– let alone got invited to one by a girl.” Jake says through a hushed whisper “Yeah and there's a reason I haven't been to one since.” Heeseung replies through the same tone. 

Jake tries not to laugh at the memory, “Yeah well, plus Clair is totally hot, and she was definitely making ‘fuck me’ eyes at you.” Jake shrugs, leaning back in the uncomfortably hard computer lab chair. 

“Those definitely werent ‘fuck me’ eyes, and I only have eyes for one girl anyway.” Heeseung says proudly. “Whatever, we're still going.” Jake says, focusing back on his code.

Heeseung chuckles before doing the same, knowing damn well he's going to end up playing League in his room for hours on end–just like every other night where he doesn't have a shit ton of work to do.

“Im still not going–” Heeseung says, rolling his eyes as Jake walks into his room and flops on the edge of his bed.

“Dude– come on. You’ve quite literally been in your room every free chance you get.” He sits up, “I mean, how can you expect a girl like y/n to actually like you when all you do is rot in that fucking gaming chair?”

Heeseung side eyes him before continuing to scroll on his phone– “I really don’t care, frankly those frat parties aren't even enjoyable unless you’re drunk—nevermind we’re going.” 

Jake opens his mouth to make a point but closes it when he realizes what words just came out. “Wait, what?” 

“I said we’re going.” Heeseung says, looking down at your instagram story where you’re very much going to said party.

He turns the phone to Jake with a smirk on his face. “I mean you said it yourself, she won’t want someone who rots in a gaming chair right?” 

“Okay but what the hell are you even going to say to her? Oh hey it’s me your tutor, yeah just came here to stare at you the whole time with club soda in my solo cup.” Jake mocks, standing up.

“No, I'm actually going to talk to her. I did kind of fine when we were at the library, what could even go wrong?” Heeseung shrugs, slipping on his converse. 

“Well first of all, you’re not wearing a fucking toy story 2 shirt.” Jake says, looking down at his outfit.

“What's wrong with Toy story 2?” Heeseung mumbles, “I know for a fact that it’s not getting you any pussy.” Jake says, standing up and tossing him some jeans and a red band shirt instead.

“What would you know about getting pussy?” Heeseung says through a laugh. “Definently more than you.”

Heeseung raises a brow at that “Are you saying you’ve been getting some?” Jake holds back a laugh, “Just put the damn clothes on.” He chuckles before walking out. 

-

The second he walks in the smell of alcohol, sweat mixed with sweet perfume and probably smoke hits his senses.

The speakers blaring some overrated rap song too loud. It's not surprising that the place is packed either. He already regrets coming. “Nope–this was definitely a mistake.” Jake laughs “Dude you literally insisted on us going.”

Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, which was sort of styled a few minutes prior. “I changed my mind, it's not worth it.” Jake smirks, “You weren't saying that when you saw her post.” 

He doesn't respond, instead letting his eyes scan the room– until they land on you. Black halter top, probably too short jean skirt, laughing, talking– smiling at the people around you like they're actually worth your time.

You look like you belong here, “Yeah.. you’re definitely not talking to her.” Jake says, pulling him from his thoughts, “I am.” He raises a brow, “You’re going to overthink it and want to leave.” Jake says, eyeing him.

Heeseung lets out a breath, scanning the surfaces around him before picking up a drink. “Liquid courage, right?” He smiles weakly before downing the contents inside of it, immediately regretting it with the burn that travels down his throat, he grimaces before drinking the rest, letting it settle. 

“Well damn.” Jake says, grabbing a drink for himself. “It's fine, everything is fine– I can talk to her, I mean look how she’s talking to everyone else–” before he can continue over thinking, he starts walking towards the end of the house you’re at, he's barely across when– 

“Heeseung, You came!” He stops, Clair, standing right in front of him, smiling like she’s actually happy to see him. “Yeah–” He says, “I honestly didn't think you were going to, you seemed like you were gonna say no.” she laughs. 

“I was just– considering it.” Heeseung says quickly, “Mmm, well I'm glad you came.” She smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Stepping closer into his personal bubble, like this is normal. “Are you having fun?” He looks around, eyes landing on you for a split second, mid laugh. God– you’re so pretty when you laugh.

“Yeah, it's uh–great.” Jake chokes out a laugh behind him, a smile spreads across Clair’s face “You don’t have to lie” He sighs “Im trying” 

“You don’t have to, you can just hang out with me. I’ll make it better.” She says easily, Heeseung glances at you one more time before looking down at Clair, “Yeah—that would help.” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

And that's when you spot him, freezing mid conversation with a few guys, leaning into Sunoo. “Is that who I fucking think it is?” His eyes follow yours to exactly who you’re looking at. 

Lee Heeseung, at a party. “How much did I drink–” Sunoo says, looking at the cup in his hand. “I thought he was one of those losers who never even left the house?” You whisper to Sunoo, “Yeah I thought so too–” Your eyes trail down the girl talking to him, her body language clearly indicating she has some sort of attraction to him. 

“Do you even know that girl?” You ask Sunoo who shakes his head. You down the rest of your drink before setting it down on some random side table. “Um–what do you think you’re doing?” He asks, looking you up and down. “Im…saying hi.” You smile sweetly. Bullshit.

He sighs, “I can’t stop you.” You fix your hair in the mirror behind him quickly before confidently making your way over.

“Wow.” You say, the girl's eyes land on you, Heeseung turns to look at you. First thing his eyes land on is your face, lips, and just for a split second, your chest—which you don’t miss. Your expression isn't easy to decipher, “Who knew Lee Heeseung was a party person.” 

“I'm not—” He replies quickly, “Oh, really?” You look behind him at the girl. “Could’ve fooled me.” She smiles politely “Hi, Im Clair–” 

“Yeah, hi.” You say, already focused back on him. “I didn't know you came to things like this.” You look him up and down, he swallows underneath your stare

“I mean—I don't usually.” Jake tries to hold a laugh at the interaction he's watching from a few feet away. “Made an exception though, right?” 

Yeah it was actually, you.

But the way you say it– there's something underneath your tone. Maybe he's reading into it too much like he does with everything else.  “Yeah,” He says slowly, your eyes fall on this Clair girl again, then back to him– making it known you were looking just to see the nervous look on his face.

He has no clue why he's even nervous. Actually that's a lie, it’s completely your fault he's like this. “Are you having fun then?” You step closer, friendly—but there's something else in your eyes.

Maybe it's the alcohol,  whatever he drank out of that cup is probably making him see things..right? “I just got here.” You hum in response, unconvinced. 

The girl beside him decides to open her mouth, voice annoyingly high. “We were just–” You cut her off “Oh, I'm sure you were.” You don’t bother looking at her, eyes trained on the boy before you instead. Would it be wrong to say you’re enjoying this?

He swallows, Adams' apple visibly bobbing, “..am I doing something wrong?” He asks, genuinely. You laugh, almost surprised at the question “No, why do you think that?” You tilt your head, doing that thing that usually makes guys swoon. “Because you’re–” He stops himself, looking back at Clair “Never mind.” 

You watch him for a second longer, the way he shifts on his feet like your stare affects him too much. You smile— that sweet, almost performative one. “Have fun,” You say before turning and walking away, leaving him confused, and definitely even more curious. 

Jake comes up beside him, clapping him on the shoulder “Okay, so that was actually fucking insane.” He says through a chuckle “..shut up.” Heeseung mutters. “She was so jealous.” Jake smirks, “She was not–” Heeseung starts.

“She definitely was, and you’re blind if you don’t see it—which you should considering your obsession with her.” Heeseung looks past his shoulder in the direction you walked in.

“I’ll be right back” Jake grabs his arm “Uh no– you’re not about to leave the girl who very clearly likes you.” He says, nodding towards Clair who's now talking to one of her friends. Heeseung pulls his arm away “I'm not leaving anyone.” Jake sighs “You kinda are.” 

“I just– I need to talk to her.” Heeseung bites his lip in thought, Jake pauses before a small grin spreads on his face

“Yeah, that's what I thought.” Before he can say anything else, Heeseung is already moving after you. Not even sure what’s going to come out– but he needs to know what the actual fuck just happened.

“Y/n–” You turn, trying to hide your knowing smile as Heeseung approaches you, just like you anticipated. “Oh? What happened to your friend?” You ask, looking behind him briefly. “I mean—you kind of scared her off..” He swallows when you tilt your head “Not that you meant to or anything, I'm not saying that was your intention..” 

It definitely was, but okay.

“..or anything, it’s just–what was that?” He asks, your eyes scan over his face before falling to his mouth for a split second– almost unnoticeable. “What was what?” You ask cluelessly.

“I don’t know y/n, that whole..,thing–” You tilt your head “I was just saying hi? Should I have not?” You ask, he swallows at the way you bat your eyelashes at him.

“No– of course not, I mean I'm glad you did.” You step closer, he doesn't step back. “Really?”

He nods too quickly.

“Hm, cute.” You mumble almost to yourself, watching his face. “You should probably go back to your little friend though, Chloe was it?” You look back, where that girl from earlier keeps glancing at him every few seconds by the makeshift bar. “Clair.” He clears his throat. 

Oh? Name correction, interesting. 

“Yeah, Clair.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’ll see you next Thursday, Heeseung, you know– for tutoring.” You smile one more time before turning and walking back to your friends, Heeseung just stands there for a moment, trying to process—probably too hard. 

But the way you said it, actually the way you said everything.. He watches you for a split second longer, his eyes can’t help but fall to the sway of your hips especially in that skirt. He turns, walking back to Chloe– or Clair, whatever–he can’t even think straight anymore. 

“So what the fuck was that?” Yunjin asks, “I don’t know what you’re talking about” You shrug, taking the cup she offers from her hand and sipping whatever is in it, Sunoo chuckles beside her– unconvinced. She gives you a look, "I'm just having fun” You say through a laugh, they both roll their eyes, even more unconvinced than before. 

-

You’re late, for real this time. Seven minutes to be exact, not that he’s counting or anything. He’s just been reviewing the material from the practice test you sent him via messages, with the words “Im so failing this class :(“ written underneath.

He remembers letting a laugh slip before replying with a “You’ll understand it after Thursday, don’t worry.” 

And now he’s watching as you approach the same table from last week, sunglasses perched on top of your head, Jeans low on your hips, tank top tight on your figure–you would say it’s necessary for the warm weather, but also what’s wrong with provoking a reaction from your totally cute tutor?

“Y/n–” You settle for the seat across from him with a smile on your face. “Heeseung,” You say, pulling out your notebook from your bag. His eyes drop to your lips, the pinkish gloss coating them. 

He clears his throat before looking back down at his own notebook, “Right– so I actually looked over the problems you sent me–” He starts, you tilt your head. “Wait, you actually went over those.” He pauses, looking at you again 

“Well, yeah..” He chuckles like it was supposed to be obvious “..It's kind of my job– I mean, as your tutor. I'm here to help you pass.” His lip quirks up, a ghost of a smile coating his face. Job, huh? “Hm, I see.”

He continues “So I re-did the equations but in a way I think you’d understand better.” He flips the notebook towards you, trying to ignore the way you lean forward, giving him a very clear view of what color your bra is.

Your eyebrow lifts, “Is this just dumbed down?” His eyes widen for a split second “What–No, of course not. This just helps people understand better–Trust me I know you’re not dumb, actually you’re really smart.” 

You can’t help the smile that slips at his urgency to clear those thoughts from your head, “Actually smart?” You look down at the paper again

“Were you not expecting me to be smart or something?” Something close to panic flashes across his features, pride across yours.

Maybe you are enjoying this too much.

“Of course not..” He swallows, slightly avoiding your lingering gaze, his ears turning a shade of pink. “..Well, actually I wasn’t– it’s just, you’re really popular and social and stuff–like parties every weekend. And you’re really pretty.” You bite the inside of your cheek to avoid smiling. 

“Not that pretty people can’t be smart of course, because you definitely are– like really pretty.” His face is a shade of red now, hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Sorry, I know I talk too much, I’m not trying to be rude, or creepy or anything like that.” He shifts in his seat, your silence making his heart race even faster. “I don’t think it's creepy.” You shrug casually. “It’s actually kind of cute.” Your eyes drop to his nose, then to his lips–

“Um–thanks..?” You hum in response, looking back down at his notebook, his eyes follow yours “Right, um– we should definitely get started.”

“Okay, see, 87% is not bad at all, you’re doing good,” His eyes locked on your computer screen, scrolling through the results of your 2nd attempt at the practice test for your exam. You roll your eyes,

“I seriously don’t know how many more of these stupid tests I can do, and I don't need an 87, I need a 100.” He bites his lip in thought “No, you need to stop being hard on yourself.” You look up at him, slightly surprised with his determined tone.

“You're smart, it’s normal to not understand the material the second you see it. It takes practice–I understand you want it to be perfect, trust me, I'm the same way.” 

“Okay then, I want to do it again.” He nods, restarting it and turning the computer towards you. “Im patient.” He says, watching the concern glint over your face. You no longer struggle to ask him a question when you need help on a problem like you did the first time you took the practice test, he smiles and nods every time you ask too. 

“92.” You say, looking down at the score on your computer. “Not bad at all, your brain is starting to recognize the material.” He states, “Ugh, Why can’t you just be there beside me when I take the exam..” You frown. 

“Trust me, if I could, I would.” He says through a chuckle. When your frown remains on your face, he speaks up again “Look, If you need me too– I’d be more than happy to look over the notes she gave you, I can try and summarize it and send a video explaining it.” 

“You’d really do that for me?” You ask, sitting up straighter. “It’s my goal to help you pass y/n, and of course I’d do it for you– how could I not..” He goes on “You're pretty irresistible honestly, it’s kind of hard to say no to someone like you. But I’d do it willingly of course.”

He swallows at the way your leg grazes his under the table, the touch burning even through his jeans. “That’s really sweet Heeseung..”

“Yeah– of  course, anything for you,” Your mouth twitches, shy of a smirk. 

“Anything for me?” You ask, your foot tracing his calf over his jeans. He nods, trying so– so hard to ignore the heat that courses through him at your touch, fuck– why did he have to wear these jeans today. 

Please go down, please, please..

“Are you okay Heeseung?” you tilt your head, almost genuine concern in your eyes. “Yeah um, I just–” He checks the time on his phone, “I kind of have to get going, it's a– coding thing.” He picks up his notebook, shoving it inside of his bag, standing up abruptly. Praying that you don’t look down. “I’ll send you that video, bye!” 

You try not to laugh at the way he can’t even make direct eye contact with you, because the second he stands up your eyes fall to the bulge in his jeans. This time you swallow because either you’re really tired or Lee Heeseung might be... Big? 

“Heeseung,” You call out before he can go around the corner, he turns, “Thanks for your help.” You smile innocently, like you’re not the very reason he has to leave so abruptly to get rid of his raging hard on.

He nods before turning the corner. You take your time packing up your stuff, not even aware of the small smile that coats your face, which hasn’t disappeared. 

-

He has to be reading into it too much, because that's something he's good at; overanalyzing, coming to insane conclusions…There’s no way you might actually like him back? Right? No he has to be going crazy.

He looks down at the messages on his phone one more time.

Heeseung: [video attachment] 

Heeseung: i went over the notes and tried to explain them better for you in this, let me know if it helps

You: oh my gosh?

You: Thank you so much Heeseung this is insane

Heeseung: of course, im just happy I can help you

You: I feel kind of bad though.. :( 

Heeseung: why would you feel bad?

You: you’re doing all this for me and I haven't really done much in return.. with the tutoring lessons being free and all

Heeseung: please don’t worry about it y/n

Heeseung: If anything you’re helping me 

You: ughh

You: I still feel bad..

You: how about this, if I pass my exam on Thursday, instead of tutoring me you can come to my place so we can celebrate! :)

He's been staring at the message for the past five minutes, part of him debating going to Jake and asking for advice, but something about this feels different? Like a shared secret between the two of you.

Heeseung: I’d love to

Heeseung: do you want me to bring some food over then?

You: No silly, im going to cook

Heeseung: wait you can cook?

You: a pretty girl whos smart and can cook, are you shocked? :0

Heeseung: thats not what I meant

Heeseung: Sorry 

Heeseung: I'm sure you can cook

Heeseung: whatever you make is probably amazing

You: Im just teasing you Hee

You: ill see you around mk?

Oh my God, you’re going to kill him, like actually kill him. Sure it's just messages but something about you giving him a nickname like that– yeah his heart definitely just stopped for a second. Fuck— Jake's right, he is pathetic. 

Heeseung: yeah sorry again

Heeseung: I'll see you

He cringes looking down at the part where he actually stumbled over his words on fucking i-messages, turning off his phone before he can do anything else stupid. 

“..and why are you smiling at your phone like that?” Yunjin asks, raising her brow while painting her nails. “What? I'm not smiling.” You say, putting your phone face down on her bed.

“Nope, you definitely were– like cheesing ear to ear.” She adds, blowing on her nails to dry them. 

“Let me guess, Heeseung?” She says, teasing glint in her eyes. “Uh–no, what? Why would you think it's him? He’s like just my tutor, and plus he's a total nerd, and a loser.” She blinks once, then she laughs. “W-why are you laughing?” You ask, sitting up in her bed.

“You like him don’t you? Like actually–” She starts, “No! I don’t– why would I like him? No–” You stammer over your words.

“Calm down, I'm not hating on you for it or anything, I honestly just thought you were giving him the time of day because of how down bad he is for you, you know?” She watches you closely

“I'm serious, I thought you just liked teasing him at first, but no– you genuinely like Lee Heeseung–” 

You stand up to put your hand over her mouth, “My nails!–” She says through a laugh, “Do not finish that sentence–” You say, trying to cover your own smiling face with a serious one, failing miserably. “Fine, fine.” She says, hands raised innocently, checking to make sure her nails are still good. You roll your eyes, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“Just be careful y/n, okay?” you pick up your phone, nodding “Yeah, yeah whatever.” You say through a small laugh.

-

Your fingers are literally crossed under the table as Professor Kim hands out the graded exam papers. You bite your lip as she comes closer to you, she looks down at the paper than at you before smiling.

“Good job Y/n, I'm glad to see the tutoring is helping.” She says before placing the paper on the table. 

96%.

You’re seeing things right, because Professor Kim doesn't just hand out A+ grades like that.

The first thing that comes to your mind; Heeseung. You’re thankful when she ends her lecture early. 

You remember going to the computer science building a few times when you and Sunoo met up after his class, and obviously now you know that Heeseung happens to have the same class, why not surprise him, he’s obviously going to be proud!

“Y/n?” Sunoo questions, walking out of the computer lab, mint green bag hung on his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” He asks through a chuckle. “Is uh.. Heeseung in there?” He raises a brow “Yeah.. pretty sure he’s staying for some club meeting– Gaming development or something.”

You nearly laugh, because of course someone like him would be in a fucking Gaming Developemnt club. You peek behind him to get a look inside the lab, “I’ll see you later Sunoo,” he shakes his head before disappearing down the hall

You open the door to the lab and spot the back of his head immediately, even if it is covered in a grey beanie.

Your eyes drift to the left side of him. Fucking hell. Can this girl not catch a hint? You don’t even care about the heads turning as you make your way further into the room. Surprised that a girl like you is walking into the middle of a club like this. 

“You definitely know a lot about this stuff, Heeseung, it’s really impressive–” Clair starts, but stops when Heeseung's eyes drift to you, a slightly shocked expression on his face “Y/n– what are you doing here?” You roll your eyes. 

“Everyone keeps asking me that.” You cross your arms over your chest, ignoring the way his friends' eyes switch to you and Heeseung like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. 

“I have something to show you.” You say, not even caring how it sounds. “We were busy working on something and this is a private club meeting actually, so im not sure how you even–” Clair starts, tone clearly bitter. 

“Okay well good thing it’s only for him to see, and not you.” You interrupt, finally look at her.

“You’re not even supposed to be in here though–” Her hand leaves the back of Heeseung's chair as he stands up. “It’s fine, I can talk to her outside if I have to,” he says, moving past Clair, you tilt your head sweetly at her before walking with Heeseung out into the hallway. 

“Okay Y/n, what–” You pull out the folded paper from your bag, biting your lip eagerly.

“Go on, open it.” You say, he looks at you, eyes falling to your lips before opening the paper. “Holy shit—96?” He exclaims, a smile coming to his face almost immediately. You nod, humming in response

“I knew you could do it, and I mean… this is a lot, even for Professor Kim, god—you’re amazing.” He says looking down at the paper. “It’s because of your help y’know” You say, stepping closer.

His eyes flick up to yours, “I mean—it was really all you, truly. I just helped a little–” He says, chuckling. “We’re still on for tonight though, right? I still have to repay you for helping me” You smile sweetly. “Repay me?” He asks, eyes falling to your low cut top for a split second—almost unnoticeable.

“Yeah, I'm cooking too, remember?” You bring your hand up, picking at an invisible piece of lint from the collar of his shirt. Thank God he wore a beanie today, or else you would have seen the embarrassing shade of pink his ears just turned.

“You really don’t have to do that for me y/n– seeing your score was honestly rewarding enough, truly—I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do something for me..” he says, hand coming up to the back of his neck. “I know, but I want to. So let me,”

“Okay– but seriously if you change your mind–” 

“I won’t, Hee,” You say through a laugh, the nickname shoots heat straight through him “I’ll see you later m’kay?” You smile, feigning innocence. 

You stand up on your tip toes to press a small kiss to his cheek before giving him one last wave “Bye Hee,”

He presses his hand to his cheek, why is he burning up right now? No way that actually just happened–

He makes his way back into the computer lab, mind still replaying the interaction over and over again, the softness of your lips– hell, even the way you were looking at him. Jake shoots him a side eye 

“Dude, are you good?” He asks, trying to hold in a laugh. “What—huh?” Heeseung questions, fixing his beanie. “You look a little.. Flushed.” He says through a smirk, eyeing the light pink gloss mark on the side of his face.

“Im not flushed–” Jake points to the mark on his face, making Heeseung touch his own.

He turns an even more embarrassing shade at the light pink glossy residue coating his finger tips, earning a laugh from his best friend,

-

So what if you made sure to clean up extra good before he came over, and it’s not like he's going to even know you looked up a recipe online for how to make pasta. At least it tastes decent.

You bite your lip anxiously, fixing your hair in the reflection of your microwave before moving to open the door for Heeseung. 

“I know what you’re going to say– but I figured we could fit some studying in..” He says, watching as you chuckle before inviting him in and closing the door behind him.

“I shouldn’t even be surprised” You say through a laugh. He takes off his shoes, something he's always done growing up. He looks around your apartment, the light pink walls that you managed to convince your landlord to let you paint, everything is very you.

A faint sweet smell lingering in the air, slightly clashing with the rich scent of the pasta you made. His eyes fall to the pan, “Wow– it looks..” “Edible?” You finish, eyebrow raised.

He laughs, “I was going to say amazing” He gives you a look as if to ask if he can put his bag down, “Make yourself comfortable Hee, I don’t bite” You smile as he places his bag down on your couch.

He walks back over to the kitchen, watching as you grab two plates from the upper cabinet. “Let me help you,” He says, taking the plate from you. “Heeseung, I'm the one who invited you–” You say, rolling your eyes. “Fine, fine”

You place the plates on the center table in the small living room. He tries so, so hard to not let his eyes wander but you make it hard for them not too. 

“..want a drink?”

“Huh?” He asks, running a hand through his hair. “I was asking if you wanted a drink” You say through a laugh, placing two glasses on the counter. “Oh– yeah, thanks” He says, sipping the dark red wine yunjin got you for your birthday last year.

“Good right?” You ask, tilting your head. “I don’t really drink much but anything you’d give me is good,” He pauses “Like any food– or drink” You chuckle

“I know, just try the food,” You say, sitting down on the couch beside him. He takes the first bite, slight surprise washing over his features before he looks at you.

Your eyes are curious watching for his reaction. “That's– that's really good y/n” He says, taking another bite. You smile proudly before doing the same. 

You two have been there for a while, glasses empty. Too lazy to get up for a refill—“What are you doing?” You ask, watching him stand up.

“I meant what I said about extra practice–” He grabs his bag “You cannot be serious right now Hee.” 

That nickname again, the one that makes him feel things he probably shouldn't from just words. But he needs to do something, anything to take his mind off the fact that he's here alone, with a pretty girl like you..studying is obviously the only ethical option. 

He grabs the notebook from his bag, along with his laptop. “Im very serious, isn’t your next exam coming up soon?” He asks, opening his laptop and sitting on the couch.

“In like a month..” You say, rolling your eyes and settling next to him. He swallows at how close the proximity is, you’re just so warm next to him. 

“All you do is help me study.. I still feel bad about it, and now we're about to do it again.” You frown, and he finally turns to look at you.

Regrets it immediately, because his eyes drop to the way you push your breasts together almost unnoticeably before flicking back up to yours. “I already said, it's my job and–” You shut the laptop. 

“A job you don’t even get anything for.” You say, sliding the laptop off his lap and onto the coffee table. “Its really the credits– I also like helping you, even though you’re already pretty smart, I really don’t mind–” He continues on.

“Fine–” You say, leaning back against the couch. “Okay—yeah, perfect, it makes me feel better if we’re ahead anyway.” He says with a smile. 

For the past 30 minutes, everything has been going in one ear and out the other, because hearing about physics sure as hell wasn't how you were planning to thank him tonight.

“..and that's how you get from point A to point B in this equation–” 

“Heeseung.” You interrupt, he stops explaining, pencil hovering over the notebook, turning to look at you. “I can start from the beginning, I don’t mind–” 

“No, God– no, I’m just..” You look down at the paper, “I don’t wanna study anymore.” He puts the pencil down, “But the extra practice is good–” You lean in closer, probably too close, 

“Studying is all we do, I invited you here so we could take a break from that, you know? Celebrate where that studying got us, and properly thank you.” He looks at you with wide eyes when you face him on the couch, legs curled beneath you. 

“I though the uh, I thought the food was the thank you..” you spot the small bead of sweat near his eyebrow and nearly laugh. “Do I make you nervous or something?” You ask, his ears turn that pathetic shade of pink.

He nods, “Y-yeah.” Unable to even form a proper lie or excuse for the way his skin is probably burning with anticipation. “Why?” You ask, tilting your head curiously.

“Well I mean– how could I not, you’re really pretty, and really intimidating..” He pauses

“..I didn’t even think it was possible for a girl like you to be into someone like me– not saying that you’re into me or anything, I wouldn't object to you being into me obviously, I mean I'm clearly in you– I mean, into you. It’s hard not to be honestly—” You watch the way his mouth moves before his brain processes what he's saying.

“—I was hoping it wasn’t obvious, is it obvious? Okay now im just rambling im sorry, I can’t help it– you just make me really nervous” He's breathing hard now, sitting up completely straight.

“Cute.” You smile, watching the confusion on his face. “If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d think you have a crush on me.” You scoot closer, probably invading his personal space.

As if he’d complain.

“Do you have a crush on me, Lee Heeseung?” Your eyes fall to his lips “I– well.. No?…” He shuts his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart

“…sorry, that's a lie. I mean, How could I not.. I like– I like you, which is probably not professional for a tutor and student relationship but I–” You shut him up immediately when your lips press against his.

Your lips are soft, when you pull back a few seconds later his tongue darts out to lick his own lips, the faint strawberry taste of your lipgloss remaining, his expression is almost comedic.

He doesn't think twice before closing the distance again, needing to feel your lips on his, you let out a sound into his mouth, your hand trailing up to rest on his shoulder, he grips your waist, tugging you closer. 

You swing your leg over his, allowing you to straddle his lap, deepening the kiss further, you wrap your hands around his neck, tangling your hands in his hair, a light tug making him groan into your mouth pathetically.

His hands are unsure at your hips, still in shock that he’s actually here right now, in your home, touching you– kissing you. When you slip your tongue in his mouth, his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, you roll them softly and his breath hitches. 

“P-please do that again..” he breathes out, looking down when you roll your hips again, you feel him growing hard, demanding beneath you—and undoubtedly big. “Touch me Hee–” You whisper, nipping at his bottom lip.

One hand slips under your shirt, feeling the softness of your back, the other trailing down to rest on your ass gently, offering a squeeze. 

“Like this?” He asks, voice rough—needy. “Mhm” You nod, rolling your hips forward against his, he thrusts up once from the friction,

“S-shit– sorry, I'm sorry–” You lower your lips, kissing just below his jaw, "Don’t apologize" This time when you grind against him, he reciprocates it, the hard line of his cock grinding perfectly between your legs.

“You’re so pretty” He mumbles, both hands cupping your ass through your pants, you smile against his neck before pressing one more delicate kiss to his jaw.

When your lips leave his skin a sound breaks from him. “What–” He watches as you slide off his lap.

“I wanna suck you off.” You say bluntly, his heart beat picks up even faster than before. 

His hands sit awkwardly at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do– which quite frankly, he doesn't. You lick your lips before reaching for his jeans. Heeseung stops your hand, gripping onto your wrist.

“Wait” You pause, looking up at him. “I just want to make it clear that uh– this..” he looks down at the very visible bulge in his jeans. “..this isn’t why I came here– you don’t have to..” You rest your hand on his thigh. 

“I know I don’t have to. But I want to.” You clarify. He bites down on his lip, his cock aching to be set free from its confinement. “I wanna repay you, like I said.” You smile as his grip on your wrist loosens.

Unbuttoning his pants, fingers hooking around the waistband, he lifts his hips allowing you to pull down his jeans and boxers in one go.

“Holy shit–” You say, gaping at the sheer size of him. Flushed pink at the mushroom tip, and so fucking wet.

Your eyes trail along the prominent vein on the underside before looking up at him. He looks nervous as hell right now, “Is it– is there something wrong with it?” he asks, gulping. 

You shake your head immediately, now you’re the one swallowing with the sudden dryness in your throat. “No– definitely not. It's just.. like” You lick your lips “Really big.”

“Do you normally get this..wet?” You ask, wrapping your hand– or attempting to wrap it around the base. 

He winces at the feeling of your soft palm before nodding. “Is that a—fuck.. Is that a bad thing?” He asks, tone utterly pathetic.

You answer with a long lick from the base to the tip, gathering what you can of his leaking pre cum, the saltiness coating your tastebuds in the best way possible.

He lets out a wrecked sound, the feeling of a tongue on him so new–

“Not at all.” You mumble, running your tongue along the underside of his tip. His hips buck at the sensation, mouth hanging open, watching you.

This time he doesn't say sorry. You smile against him before wrapping your mouth around him, trying to take as much as you can, you brace one of your hands on his thigh, the other one wrapping around the base of his cock.

It's so worth it once the most pathetic moan escapes past his lips and he makes no move to hide it. 

“I-its so warm–” He groans, hand coming up to tangle in your hair purely on instinct. You hum and the vibration makes his hips jerk instantly, forcing more of himself in the warm column of your throat. “Y/n– I can’t..” He says, biting his lip–trying to watch you but it's so hard to with the way his eyes flutter shut.

His sounds give you even more motivation as you bob your head faster, squeezing the base of his cock. “W-wait, slow down–” He tries to pull your head back, but you stay put as his warm cum spills down your throat, his grip on your hair falters as you milk him dry.

You pull off of him, cum coating your lips, looking up at his face, the sweat beside his eyebrow, to his glazed eyes, then back down to his still hard dick.

“You’re..” You breathe out, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and blinking once “You’re still hard–” You say, watching as a small bead of cum dribbles down his cock along the thick vein. “I should have said something– Once it gets like this..” He looks down at his dick, standing proud “..it takes um, a few tries to get it down.” He swallows.

He moves to pull his boxers back up to tuck it back but you stop him. “Have you ever had a handjob?” You ask, standing up and sitting next to him. He shakes his head shyly. “Ive never really had anyone– you know.” You smile at that,

“Good, I wanna make you cum again.” His cheeks flush at that, but he nods because who is he to say no to such an offer?  

-

It doesn’t stop there. What used to be a dream– a fantasy in Heeseung's mind is actually actively coming true.

Who would have thought innocent tutoring lessons would turn into something like this? A shared secret between the two of you that your friends are definitely picking up on. 

Based on the way you walk around even more confidently than before, and the way you actually look for Heeseung in a room—only to find him already staring at you.

To be completely honest, you don’t know what it is you have going on, but the attention feels so fucking good—especially after what happened just a few days ago,

“So what did you need help with?” You had asked, following him into the computer lab, which was empty due to it being after hours. “Nothing,” He said, Your brow lifting immediately, “You literally asked me to come here,”

“I just need to check something.” He mumbles, you cross your arms over your chest, “That sounds suspicious.”

He looks up at you, loading in his work in progress of a game, “It’s not.” You roll your eyes, “Yeah will it sound like it.”

He exhales, trying to sound as least suspicious as possible, “Can you just–stand there for a second.” You blink once, “What?” 

“Just a second,” You tap your finger against your crossed arm, “Why?” He continues clicking stuff on his computer, “Because I asked,” He says simply, “That’s not a reason.”

He looks up at you again, almost pleading look in his eyes. “Fine, even though this is weird.” You say, giving in.

He turns his monitor away from you, and you shift slightly. His eyes flick between his screen and you–not awkwardly, just with extreme focus, like he’s studying you. “..what are you doing?” you finally ask, “Nothing.” He mutters, “you’re staring.”

“No, im observing,” He says confidently, the sound of his mouse clicking and keyboard typing filling the space between the two of you. “That's worse.”,

“Can you just turn a little to the left..” He asks with a vague gesture. “Why?” 

“I just need to see something,” You huff, “Why are we doing this Heeseung?” he hesitates for a split second, “It’s for my game.” he admits.

“The one you’ve been working on?” He nods, looking up at you again, then back to the screen.

“So what does that have to do with me?” You narrow your eyes slightly, “I needed a reference,” He says, biting his lip nervously, waiting for you to call him a creep– a weirdo, obsessive freak maybe?

But when you smile, he can’t help but mirror the action, quickly going back to focusing when you do eventually turn for him.

Heeseung's cute, attractive in a way the guys you've been with before weren't.

The first time you walked into his room a little bit over a week ago for tutoring–which ultimately led to a very heated makeout session, and you learning that he really likes kissing.

His room didn't even surprise you, hell– he even had a whole section dedicated to Toy Story figures.

You also learned that he’s a pretty big gamer, and takes it very seriously– probably why he’s in that Gaming development club or whatever the fuck.

Your favorite part is how shy he gets, especially when you say the most out of pocket things.

“So you’ve never eaten a girl out before?” You ask, sitting up straight on his bed.

His face turns an embarrassing shade of red. “I–No..” he says, shifting in his gaming chair, thankful the notebook in his lap covers the way his cock is already half hard from the words alone. 

You tilt your head, smiling. “Do you even know where the clit is?” You ask through a chuckle.

“What– Why are you..” He looks down at his notebook, then at the physics papers scattered across his bed where you sit.

“…We should be focusing on studying right now y/n–” You roll your eyes, gathering the papers together in one stack. “Just answer the question Hee.” That nickname again. The one that really gets him, and you know it.

“I did a human anatomy study for one of my classes last semester—very detailed, so, kind of? I think.” Your brow raises at that. “Yeah? So you think you’re some expert now?” You ask, leaning back on your palms.

He finally removes the notebook from his lap, setting it on the cluttered table behind him. Your eyes immediately fall to the very clear bulge in his sweatpants that he makes no move to hide anymore. 

“Is this you trying to distract me from studying again?” He asks, standing up. “Is it working?” You question, biting your lip.

“I had to lie to the tutoring lab administrators the other day, about the tutoring hours y’know. I couldn’t just tell them the pretty girl I got assigned to, spent half the time sucking me off instead of actually doing her work” He says, not exactly sure where this newfound confidence of his is coming from—but from the way your cheeks flush that perfect shade of pink, he must be doing something right. 

“Couldn’t tell them she wears these little tops that seem to get smaller every session, these shorts that get tighter– absolutely kills me,” he admits, looking down at your bare legs.

“I did tell them that you’re a great student, good at comprehending the material, always focused on the task at hand.” He climbs on the bed with you until you're laying flat on your back.

“Kind of lied about the focus part though, you’re more of a distraction– a really good one at that.” He clarifies, dipping his head to kiss the sensitive spot below your ear he just discovered the other day.   

“Hee–” You breathe out, running a hand through his hair, he pulls back looking down at you. Humming in response, already lost in you.

“Are you going to eat me out or not?” You ask bluntly, you don't miss the pink shade that covers his ears. “You should know by now that I'll do anything you ask me too,” He says, licking his lips. 

He pulls back, looking down at you. “Ive been thinking about this you know, can I admit that?” he asks, smoothing both of his hands down your bare thighs—testing.

You nod, hooking your fingers around the waistband of your jeans shorts, but he stops your hand. “I want to look at you like this for a little—“

“I think about you a lot actually, probably more than I should.” He adds, lowering himself to the soft carpet of his bedroom floor.

“Ever since that first day of Econ too, remember when you tapped my shoulder?” He smiles, you nod. “I swear I couldn't get you out of my head– not in a creepy way, but you just–” He presses a gentle kiss to your calf— not quite sure if this is what he's supposed to be doing, but it feels right. 

“You have an effect on people y/n, I don’t even think you realize it.” He whispers, looking up at you.

“Heeseung..”

“I know, it's a lot– there's so much more I have to say too.” He chuckles, still unbelieving that you’re right here in front of him.

“But I really—really want to do this right now.” He admits, fingers finally hooking around the waistband of your shorts.

He pulls them down slowly, the movement intimate, like he's treasuring each reaction– studying it harder than he does his schoolwork, or whatever video game he plays. 

You sit up on your elbows to get a better view, and it's so worth it.

He looks up once, and when you nod his fingers move to pull your underwear down as well, and he moans—actually moans at the sight of you.

“Even your pussy is perfect–” He says, licking his lips. The words cause even more arousal to drip out of you. He swipes his finger through your folds once, gathering some– the touch makes your hips jolt.

“After, we can finish Toy Story 2 right?” He asks, looking up at you—eyes practically sparkling. You nod immediately “Yes– fuck, Heeseung..” You breathe out, watching him lick the juices from his fingers.

“Just need your mouth on me– now.” You demand, he smiles “Still bossy as ever.” Before mirroring the same action of his finger, licking a stripe up your pussy, because this is what he’s supposed to do right?

He tries making out with your pussy, and from the moans that leave your lips he must be doing something right. There's something messy about the way he does it,

“Just like that– are you..fuck” You moan when his nose bumps your clit, “..are you sure you’ve never done this?” You ask, breaths coming in heavy pants as he hums against you, your hips bucking against his face. 

He discovers a rhythm, alternating between teasing your aching hole with the tip of his tongue, and flicking it over your throbbing clit– the sensitive bud craving the touch.

He pulls back for a moment, admiring the mess he's made before gathering some spit in his mouth and letting it drop right onto your pussy. 

Where the fuck did he learn that from. 

He looks up at you, the way your mouth hangs open before latching his lips onto your clit, taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.

“Oh my God– Hee, I can’t..” You give up on holding yourself up with your arms as your fingers tangle through his soft locks, pulling him even closer to you. He groans into the heat of you, the sounds of him eating you out filthy– 

“I need–” You say, trying to get your words out, he parts from your clit, looking up at you, the bottom half of his face completely covered in your slick, but he could care less about that right now—if anything it's rewarding.

“I need your fingers, Heeseung..” You whimper, he brings his middle finger to your entrance, teasing it subtly,

“Like this?” he asks, watching your face for approval. You nod, he pushes the tip of his finger in, your hole welcoming him in with ease

“It’s so wet–so warm” he observes, pushing it in deeper, you hold onto his wrist. “Mmm– Hee..” You cry out as his finger curls experimentally. 

He watches your reaction before doing it once more, noting how you tighten around him at the movement.

“You’re so pretty—seriously, I can’t get enough of you..” He whispers, the words easily falling out, your eyes flutter shut.

He moves your hand from his wrist, setting it on top of his head.

“Pull it—I don’t care, it feels good” He admits, curling his finger deeper, using his other hand to prevent your legs from closing around his head. 

And you’re thankful he did because the second his tongue is back on you, you’re tugging at the strands, his finger curling and uncurling inside of you, mixed with the way he slurps at your clit

This has to be the best head you’ve ever gotten—hands down. Inexperienced guys really do eat pussy the best. 

“F-fuck Hee, I– Im close..” You warn, but it only makes him more determined—the thought of you actually cumming, and even better, him being the one to give you that pleasure fuels him even more.

His finger repeatedly brushing a spot inside of you that you can’t reach and his tongue flicking your clit through his pursed lips has you completely undone—reaching your high with his name on your tongue, pulling at his hair– not sure if you want him off or even closer—definitely closer.

He moans against your pussy like he's the one getting pleasure, in all fairness—he probably is. 

Your back arches off the bed as your juices coat his face, he doesn't even care if it drips down his chin, wetting the sheets below you, he still tries to greedily lap up what he can, finger never leaving inside of you until the rise and fall of your chest slows.

Only then does he lift his head from between your legs, looking up at you for approval. “T-theres no way that was you’re first time” You say, watching as he stands up, licking his lips.

“So you would let me do it again?” He asks, picking up your underwear from the floor, “Is that a serious question Heeseung?” He chuckles,

“Good, because I think I maybe– kind of got the hang of it.” He says, moving to put on your underwear for you. And you let him, “I might need to do it a few more times to make sure– for research purposes.. And stuff.”

He clears his throat, you can’t help but laugh, wincing at the way the cloth of your underwear feels on your sensitive pussy. He presses a kiss just above your waistband. You swallow at the action– how genuine it felt, how genuine the boy before you is.

You watch as he lays against the headboard of the bed, cock clearly hard in his pants before raising your brow. “What?” he says through a chuckle, flipping through the apps on his TV looking for the Toy Story 2 movie.

“You’re just going to sit here, with that?” You ask, still laid down on his bed. “You said we could watch Toy Story 2– I thought..” He shifts when you sit up, crawling to lay next to him. 

“God– you really are a nerd.” You say through a laugh, “Hey– the plot is a lot deeper than they make it out to be, I think you’re really underestimating the whole thing–” He starts,

“Heeseung, just put the movie on.” You shake your head, he presses a sloppy kiss to your forehead before doing just that.

But its safe to say you didn’t let him deal with his little (big) problem for much longer after that.

-

“Why are you doing that?” Jake asks, side eyeing Heeseung as he works on the code before him– while also smiling.

“Huh? Doing what?” He questions, looking at his friend for a split second.

“That smiling thing.”

Heeseung scoffs, “I’m not doing any type of smiling thing.” Jake's eyes fully leave his monitor to really look at him.

“Y’know, you’re absolutely shit at lying.” Jake says, “I’m not even– what,”

“It’s y/n huh?” Jake says for him. “Shut up–” Heeseung mutters, tone a hushed whisper.

“Holy shit– no fucking way she actually..” Heeseung's ears go that pathetic shade of pink, “Don’t be so loud okay? I– she doesn’t want anyone knowing anything” Heeseung says, seriously.

Jake raises a brow at that “What is she embarrassed or something?”

“No– it’s just, I– It doesn’t matter, okay?” Heeseung says, voice low. “I dunno man, you really like her, right?—are you sure..” 

“Heeseung?” That familiar voice cuts through, Clair.

Part of him thankful for taking him away from this conversation with his best friend. “Hey, what's up?” He immediately says, ignoring Jake's annoyed huff.

“We’re going to the dining hall to get something– the others are really hungry, especially with the deadline coming up.” She says, biting her lip anxiously.

“Do you wanna come with– you too, Jake.” She adds, looking behind him for a split second. 

He looks back down at his computer, the half finished code nowhere near ready, “I can’t. I have to finish this.” Heeseung says, cursing himself for being so distracted.

“Oh, um—okay, want us to bring something back–”

Jake interrupts immediately. “Yeah, pretty sure they're doing that good ramen today, thanks Clair.” She shoots him a look before glancing back at Heeseung, who is in fact back to working on the code.

“Yeah, sure.” She replies, both of the boys missing the tone of her voice. 

“I seriously don’t understand his obsession with her.” Clair says, making her way to the dining haul. “I mean she's like really pretty.” Her friend says quietly.

“Not that pretty—I don’t get why someone like her would even go for someone like Heeseung, I mean they are like the complete opposite!” She says through a whine. 

“Not to mention she's a total bitch.” Her friend side eyes her “I don’t get why you even like Heeseung in the first place, yeah he's cute and all but if you’re actually in competition with Y/n I fear–” 

“Shut up– She's probably just using him anyway.” Clair mumbles, stepping into the line,

“Using Heeseung?” Her friend questions through a laugh “Yeah, I mean, she's known for being a slut. Wouldn’t doubt if none of those frat guys wanted her anymore so she had to move for him out of all people.” Her friend shakes her head “lm gonna get the fruits, try not to explode while im gone.” Clair rolls her eyes at the comment.

“I really can’t.. I promised him.” You say, looking down at your phone. “Are you serious Y/n? Last month you were like begging to go to party after party and now you don’t want to? Is the dick that good?” Sunoo asks, earning a laugh from Yunjin beside him.

“They can’t reschedule for next Saturday instead?” You ask, biting your lip while looking past the line of people waiting for food– guess this is what you get for coming when everyone was on a break. 

“I mean, I wouldn't doubt if one of those frat guys would cancel it if you asked,” Yunjin says with a smirk. “I’m not going, end of story– I promised Heeseung and I can’t break it.” You say proudly,

“Okay, fine, why don’t you just bring him then?” Sunoo suggests, You look at him like he's crazy. “Are you kidding?” You ask, looking at the both of them. “Uh– no babe, dead serious. I mean he's clearly down bad for you, and by the looks of it you’re pretty damn close.” Yunjin states.

“Hes–” You chuckle, “hes not even the party type. like seriously, he hates them.”

They look at each other, “You sure it’s not something else.. Like maybe the concept of hard launching with someone like him?” Sunoo asks, tilting his head. “What– you guys are ridiculous.” You mutter. 

“Plus, the only reason why he was at that one party was because he saw that story I posted” You smile at the memory,

“Told me himself the otherday.” You say proudly. You miss the way the girl in front of you stills.

“So he literally admitted to stalking you.” Sunoo says, brow raised. “He so was, and you love it too.” Yunjin adds through a laugh

“So what if it feels good? Am I not allowed to have fun?” You ask, rolling your eyes. “I think you’re having a little more than fun..” Sunoo mumbles.

You tighten your lips to hide your smile before looking past the line of people, “This is exactly why we don’t come here during peak hours.” 

“Heeseung–” Clair says first thing as she walks back into the computer lab, He lifts his head, acknowledging.

“I–” She pauses, Jake raises a brow beside him. “There's something you should know” She says quickly.

“Is it about the development? If you need help on something I can..” He starts “It's not about anything with the club– it's about that girl.” She says, shifting on her feet. 

Heeseung looks behind him at his best friend before turning back to Clair,

“Y/n?” He questions, because who else could she be talking about..

“Yes.”

“Look, if it's about how she can sometimes be a little.. intimidating..” he pauses, trying to think of the right word, "That's just how she is, don’t take it personal–” 

"It's not about that!” She says louder than intended, causing a few eyes to look her way and Jake to make a noise beside him.

“Look– can we talk outside?” She asks with an almost nervous tone. “Oh, um..” He looks down at his monitor before looking back up

“..yeah– um, yeah sure.” He mumbles before standing up and following her out into the empty hallway.

“So what's up–”

“She’s using you.” Clair says flatly. He pauses–what? 

“Shes– who?” He swallows, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the girl in front of him. “Y/n, she’s using you,” He looks down at his feet,

“Why would she use me?” He questions almost to himself, a dry chuckle leaving his throat. 

Clair looks at him, trying to bite back another emotion from rising.

“I overheard her talking with her friends in the dining hall.” Clair starts, his eyes are back on her, “They were pretty much talking about how you were just an ego booster for her—because she was bored.” She says, not even caring if she's twisting the conversation into something that will hopefully benefit her. 

“W-what–” Heeseung searches her eyes for something—anything, amusement maybe? To say this is just some fucked up joke?

“No– that doesn’t make any sense, she wouldn't do something like that..” 

He bites his lip and thought, trying to replay your moments together— those moments in private.

The ones no one knows about except the two of you– your shared secret.

“It’s true Heeseung, I heard them” 

He shakes his head, unbelieving– because you wouldn't do that, no you wouldn't. You said you cared about him,

Clair is lying, she has to be. 

“Are you lying to me?” Heeseung asks, looking her dead in the eye.

She swallows, “No– Heeseung, why would I lie about this? I'm telling you what I heard, she’s using you for her own benefit, that's how girls like her are..”

He scoffs “Girls like her? What does that mean?” she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “You know what I'm talking about.. Those attention whores–” 

“Don’t.” He interrupts, "Don't speak about her like that– she’s not,”

He sighs "That's not what she is, okay?” He breathes out

“But im trying to tell you–” She starts

“Why? Why would you be telling me this? What's the point of it?” He asks, trying to contain the fear in his chest right now. The doubt starting to cloud his judgement.

“Because you deserve someone better, Heeseung—someone who actually appreciates you, not someone who's trying to use you!” She says, reaching out for his arm.

He steps back, out of her grasp. “I– I don’t believe you.” He whispers, lips in a tight line.

“But I heard her–” She says, voice stern, forcing him to believe it, or even herself.

“No, you– you don’t know her like I do, you don’t.” He states, hand already on the door knob of the computer lab. 

“So stay out of it.” He says, tone completely different to how he normally is, that defensive wall coming up, shielding him from this– this accusation.

She opens her mouth to speak but closes it when he opens the door to the lab, moving past her. 

“Yo—are you good?” Jake asks, watching as Heeseung powers off the computer, tossing his stuff in his bag.

“Im fine. Something came up.” he says, not bothering to look up.

“Heeseung–” Jake starts, confused as his friend walks out without saying another word.

-

There's no way any of it is true, I mean– you out of all people, using him, Heeseung, the guy who is described as some loser-nerd who plays video games all day and apparently “can’t get any pussy” according to Jake. At least that's who he's known as to everyone else, but with you it felt different. 

So It can’t be true. Why would you even use someone like him! It makes no sense, you wouldn’t do that– not for your own benefit, not to make yourself feel better, not because you were bored or needed an ego boost from a guy who would clearly do anything for you. Including spending extra hours way past the limit making sure you passed one of the most challenging classes. 

You were the first girl to give him a blowjob for fucks sake!

First girl who even let him get close enough to actually eat your pussy– which he still can’t believe happened and replays constantly in his mind.

You care about him, you do!– or is he imaging it all? 

Is this really just some sick mind game– are you playing him? Is what Clair said really true?

No– he can’t let these thoughts cloud his mind, because he likes you, probably more than like honestly, but you like him too right?

I mean, how could you let someone get so close to you without actually liking them, right? 

He's spiraling, like actually going insane. Now that these thoughts are in his head he cant get them out–

Is this the reason why everything between you two is in private?

No, don’t connect the dots, don’t assume. God– why is he here right now, and why is he so damn nervous. 

No, right tutoring—that's his purpose right now, being your tutor.

His hand hovers over your door before knocking.

“Hey—come in, I just got back from Yunjin’s, and I picked up a little something on my way back,” You say, opening the door and walking back to your kitchen.

He nods before removing his shoes and following you, setting his bag on the island stool.

“It smells really good, are you cooking?” He asks, watching as you squat down to look inside of your oven, trying hard not to watch the way your shorts easily ride up, your ass slightly peaking out from the movement.

He swallows before looking away, eyes landing on the bag on the counter. 

“Mhm, I've been trying new stuff ever since I made that pasta for you, I made something for Sunoo the other day and he actually said it was good, like no bullshit.” You say, still looking at what's in the oven.

“This time, I tried making these like red velvet cheesecake cookies,” 

He nods, but speaks up “Well uh, it smells good”

You turn around to look at him, tilting your head “Yeah, you said that” he swallows sudden dryness in his throat.

“Right..” You shake your head before turning off the timer and taking the cookies out of the oven,

“Okay, they have to cool down and stuff for like..” You check your phone, scrolling, “..only ten minutes,” You look up at him, smiling. 

His eyes fall to the bag on the counter, and yours follow his.

“Right! Okay, so I know you really like Toy Story and all that but also Ramen– like I saw your ramen cabinet at your place and was honestly shocked, but..”

He tilts his head curiously watching as you pull the packets out of the bag,

“Apparently it's some seasonal thing, but I just thought you would like it because buzz lightyears face is literally on it–” You say through a laugh, showing him the Ramen pack. 

He smiles—genuinely, something close to guilt pinging in his chest as he takes it from you.

“T-this, this is really nice of you” He mutters, looking at you. “It's nothing, really” You say, knowing damn well you nearly chased a worker down at the store in order to get the last pack of them from the back. 

“Thank you,” He whispers, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close.

You pause for a moment, before wrapping your own arms around him, one of your hands running through his hair.

“Okay, okay– weren't you the one who insisted that we actually study this time.” You say, peeling back.

He chuckles, hand rubbing the back of his neck, “Right– um, sorry.” 

“It’s okay Hee, I'm just glad you like it..” You say, hand pulling him closer by his waistband, his breath catches in his throat.

“Want a cookie?” you ask, tilting your head, batting your eyelashes innocently at him, in that way you were just looking at him the last time you got on your knees for him.

“Cookie?” He questions, voice shaky– “Yes, the cookies I just made” You add, as if you’re not the very reason his brain is short circuiting. 

He makes a noise when your hand trails lower, lightly cupping the half hard length of him inside of his sweatpants.

He nods and you offer a squeeze before peeling your hand back.

He whimpers at the loss, hand reaching out to steady himself on the counter. 

“Okay,” You say sweetly, moving back towards the oven. He shakes his head, trying to get rid of any irrational thoughts right now–

he's here to study, and study only.

And he's not going to let those feelings of doubt cloud his mind either, because it's not true, nothing Clair said is true

…right?

“..and they just kept on asking, but I told them I couldn’t– and that you literally hate parties.” You continue, not paying attention to the work in front of you at all.

He just nods, sort of regretting agreeing to your 10 minute “brain break” idea.

He’s tried to avoid looking at you this whole time– because fuck–you look good. 

“I mean, I don’t hate them..” He mumbles, picking at the eraser of his pencil.

“Okay, but you don’t want to go to one, right?” You ask, legs swung over his lap.

“I wouldn’t mind if it was with you though– I like spending time with you..” He clears his throat “..so I’d be willing to go through that if it means I can be with you” He says, looking at you. 

“Thats cute,” You note, watching the way his ears flush– still the same as when he first met you.

“I like spending time with you too, Hee” You smile, sitting up.

“But I really don’t feel like studying right now..” You whisper, leaning in close, lips ghosting just over his.

“Maybe..” He visibly swallows, “Maybe we can..extend the break then?” 

You hum in response, swinging one of your legs over his to straddle his thigh, his hands settle on your hips, grabbing onto the soft flesh.

“Y/n–” You silence his words in a kiss, hands resting on his chest, pulling the fabric of his shirt closer.

He moans into your mouth, you take the opportunity to slip your tongue in, him mirroring the action the same way he tried to do last time, but better—you pull back to catch your breath but he doesn't let that last for long, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you back onto his lips, earning a surprised gasp from you. 

You experimentally roll your hips against his thigh, the friction of his sweatpants against your shorts making you even wetter.

His hands roam up and down your back, wanting to feel all at once. You take the opportunity to slip your hand from his chest, palming him over his sweatpants– his cock already hard, desperate, and craving your touch. 

“Y/n..” He breathes against your lips, you move your hand to slip it into his waistband—

“Wait– y/n.. Hold on–” He whispers, even as his body leans into the touch.

You respond by kissing just below his jaw, he tilts his head giving you more access,

“Hmm?” you hum in response, “I need–” He lets out a low sound when you suck on the most sensitive part of his neck—his adams apple. 

“I need to ask you something..” He breathes out “...first–” You bring your hand lower, just under the elastic of his briefs before his hand leaves your hip and stops it.

“It– it’s important, I just need to say it–” your lips ghost over his neck, “It’s something Clair told me I–” You pause over his neck, pulling back to look down at him, 

“Clair?” You question, retracting your hand from his waistband to rest back on his chest.

He nods, “Yeah– you met her at that party, she’s one of my…friends”

You roll your eyes, “What did she say?” You question, licking your lips. 

“I just need to know that it’s not true—I told her it was ridiculous and that she was lying, but I need you to tell me–” he blinks once, trying to gather the words.

“Okay..” You say, an anxious feeling bubbling in your chest. 

He breathes out once, “She—she told me you were um.. Using me? Which I don’t know what you would use me for I mean– look at you, what could you possibly use me for you know?..”

He continues, not quite looking at you, “She uh said.. That she overheard you talking with your friends– that it was some ego boosting game?” He questions, “I don’t know– I just, it can’t be true right? You wouldn’t use the way I feel to feed into that–” You swallow, your breath catching in your throat

“Y-you wouldn't do that, you wouldn't play me–we have something, right? Y/n–” His chest rises and falls, waiting for you to respond– waiting for you to deny it, fuck just say something, anything. 

But that's not true– is it? Is that what you were doing the whole time and you were completely unaware, or maybe a part of you was aware of it– liked it even.

But Heeseung cares about you, he likes you, not just the front you put up, but he likes you.

This Clair girl– she completely is twisting your words, putting these thoughts in Heeseungs mind– you knew she liked him, but doing this, fuck you can’t even think straight because a part of it almost does feel real

“Y/n?” He questions, voice shaky. “T-thats not what this is right?” He asks, searching your face for something to tell him that Clair was lying.

You open your mouth to speak– but close it when nothing comes out.

“Please tell me it’s not true..” He breathes out, throat dry.

“Hee–” You start but his hands fall from your hips, he shifts to stand up, leaving you sitting on the couch, legs draped in an awkward position, shorts ridden up–  

“I can’t believe I let myself actually think–” He runs a hand through his hair “..that a girl like you could like me– fuck, im pathetic.” he whispers to himself, he can’t even bring himself to look at you.

“Y-you’re not pathetic Heeseung–” Your voice cracks

“No, I am–im an idiot for actually– I should have known.” He reaches down, grabbing his notebook and pencils from the coffee table.

“Let me explain Hee.. s-she’s not telling the..” He shoves his stuff in his bag, ears ringing– he needs to get out of here right now.

He's already humiliated, crying in front of you would just make it worse.

“No. because you couldn’t even deny it when I asked y/n– you couldn’t even make up a lie or anything.” He says, now fully looking at you. 

“I..I can’t do this. I can’t be here right now” He says, voice breaking. You stand up, reaching out for him but he steps back.

because if you touch him right now, he'll completely break, right here on your living room floor.

“Don’t go Hee– don’t.. let me explain,” You don’t even care for the way your eyes blur from the tears threatening to fall

He looks away, he can’t see you like this.

“You don’t have to worry about your reputation or what people think anymore…I—don’t make me feel any more stupid then I already do..please.” He whispers, lips trembling, you lower your hand to your side, watching him as he walks out, not even slamming the door behind him—instead, shutting it gently, and somehow it feels even worse.

-

He's avoiding you.

He's been avoiding you for the past few days–like actually, no staring at you when you two happen to be in the same room, no random pictures from him showing you the newest addition to his figure collection, nothing.

Just radio silence. 

Sunoo and Yunjin both give each other a look as you pick at your food with your fork,

“Babes..you haven’t actually eaten your food this whole time.” Yunjin says, drawing your eyes up to her.

You blink once, pushing your designer sunglasses up your nose– a weak attempt in masking how puffy your eyes are. 

“Not hungry” You mumble, continuing to poke at your food. “You just said you were craving it–” Sunoo says, watching you with an almost unbelieving look.

“Guess I was wrong” You sigh, picking up the tray. “Where are you going?” Yunjin asks, brow raised. “I’m just going to find something at home. I’ll see you guys later” You say, attempting to offer that smile of yours before leaving.

You open your small pantry, looking for something, when your eyes land on it, the ramen– the specifically designed buzz light year ones that you got for him. Sitting on the shelf, unopened.

Oh he's pathetic huh? You reach in, grabbing it to make something you’ll actually eat. 

Don’t do it.

Don’t open the messages app. Don’t click on his contact, and definitely do not type a message to send.

You: Hey, are we still on for tutoring tomorrow?

This is probably why you should have stayed with Yunjin and Sunoo. You swipe out of the messages, pretending to scroll through social media as you wait for a reply, taking another bite of the surprisingly good ramen. Fuck—he really does know his stuff.

You swipe back into the messages, watching as the bubbles show up, just to disappear, then show up again.

Hee: I can’t, but I’ll set you up with someone else instead

Someone else? Is he serious right now?

You: Is this a joke?

Hee: Im sorry

Hee: I have things to work on myself

There he goes, still apologizing.

You: you can’t even face me? Heeseung seriously?

You: can we meet up?

You: let me explain

Hee: Im sorry y/n, im busy

Hee: You’ll get an email of who you will be assigned to

You: I don’t want to be assigned to anyone else

You: I’m not going I don’t care

Hee: How will you keep your grade up then?

You: maybe with you tutoring me?

Hee: Y/n, I can’t. 

Hee: I’m sorry but I just can’t be around you right now

You: Im not going unless its you

Hee: I have to go

Hee: I'm sorry, good luck

“Fucking hell–” You whisper to yourself, setting your phone face down on the counter. Why does it feel like someone is squeezing your heart right now– A dry laugh leaves your throat, void of any amusement.

You swore to yourself, you swore you wouldn't let a boy out of all things make you feel this way.

But low and behold, Lee fucking Heeseung is the one to have you feeling like this on a Wednesday afternoon.

Or maybe it's yourself, maybe it really is your fault, maybe you even deserve this. 

-

“Uh– what are you doing here?” Jake asks, walking into his and Heeseung's shared apartment.

“Working on the code for my game,” Heeseung answers, not bothering to look up.

“Oh so you’re not watching porn?” Jake asks sarcastically, grabbing water from the fridge. 

Heeseung looks up, “Dude– what?”

Jake rolls his eyes, “Im fucking with you, but seriously you’ve been acting weird for the past week. It’s starting to freak me out.” He says, coming around the kitchen counter to look at Heeseung's computer. 

“And for the first time in like–forever, you’re here on a Thursday, aren’t you supposed to be tutoring too–” Jake starts,

"I'm not doing it anymore.” This time Jake actually pauses, “Like, not tutoring y/n– The y/n, like the sane girl you’re obsessed with?” He questions, unbelieving.

“Everyone was right about her. A girl like her wouldn't actually be interested in me. I should have listened but I was stupid, and.. And greedy.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “And I treated Clair like shit over it– I called her a liar, Im an asshole.” Heeseung swears, shutting his computer and rubbing his hand over his face. 

“Clair huh?” Jake says, sitting down. “Y’know, she actually asked me if you were going to that party tomorrow.”

Heeseung looks up, “What’d you say?” 

“I said you hated parties, but I’d still mention it because I know damn well being in here, sulking isn’t going to help at all.” Jake admits, standing up.

“And you kind of look like shit right now– how many hours of sleep did you get last night anyway–” he starts, observing his face.

Heeseung looks away, “Fine, ill go. But the second I hate it I'm leaving and coming back here to play league.” He says, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, yeah– I'll just make sure you don’t hate it.” He says, a too proud smirk on his face.

- 

Jake claps him on the shoulder too hard, “Loosen up man, it’s friday–” Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, looking around at the sea of bodies all together in some frat house.

“Yeah, a friday I could be spending getting my rank in league higher. y’know people actually get paid sometimes for it–” Jake gapes at him,

“See, this is why we needed to get you out. Look–I love that game and all, but you need to live a little, especially after the shit that went down with you know who.” He makes a face at the last words. 

Heeseung pauses, “Wait– you don’t think she's gonna be here tonight.. Right?” He swallows, looking around–scanning the crowd.

“Don’t worry about her, just get a drink– plus, im pretty sure Clair was looking for you..”

Panic bubbles in his chest, “I feel like I shouldn’t talk to her– I mean she probably doesn't even want to talk to me.” Heeseung says, rambling on as Jake guides him to the makeshift bar in the kitchen.

Jake just nods along, pouring himself and Heeseung a drink and handing it to him.

“Whats this?” Heesueng asks, smelling the contents in the cup. “Something that will make you a whole lot less anxious,” Jake says through a laugh. 

Heeseung swallows, throat dry– maybe this is what he needs, a break. Something to help him disassociate from his brain for a little bit, get away from the overthinking.

He takes the cup without another word, downing whatever his friend put together. “Alright– that works too.” Jake says, sipping his own drink.  

And that's how Heeseung got here now, oversized hoodie discarded somewhere in the house, laughing with Jake and some guys he introduced him to.

Actually sort of fitting in, and this time he doesn’t feel like some outsider. What would you think though? Seeing him like this– in a world you're so familiar with. 

Even though the music is loud, the room a bit crowded, the crisp night air from outside lingering in, doing little to mask the smell of alcohol and sweat, they looked..relaxed.

“You ever smoked before?” Sunghoon, the tall guy who he can now put a name to says, taking the joint from Jakes fingers. 

He hesitates for a second, Jake glancing at him giving him that questioning look, “Not really.” Heeseung admits, Sunghoon nods,

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He says casually, “This shits pretty strong—my boy Jay got it for us,” Sunghoon says, nudging his friend's shoulder. 

Heeseung exhales, looking around the room once again, this is his choice– “Nah, its fine” Heeseung says, reaching out for it “I’ll try it.”

Jake's eyebrows raise at that “Hell yeah, this is what I meant by loosening up man,” 

“Just don’t–” Jake says too late, the first inhale is a mistake, his throat burns, he turns away immediately as his friends start laughing “-rush.”

“Im fine–” Heeseung manages to say in between coughs “Im good– it’s good.” 

“You sure? You look like you’re dying–” Jay says with a grin on his face. “I’m not dying– it’s just, strong.” Heeseung says, “That's how y’know it's good.” Jay adds, He hands it back to Sunghoon, shaking his head to reset himself. 

He takes another sip of his drink, the alcohol already helping with making things feel lighter, “..I don’t really feel anything.” He says, leaning over to Jake. “Give it a second,” His friend says with a smirk. 

And then he feels the shift, not all at once– but just enough to know that they weren't lying when they said it was strong.

The loud rap song on the speaker fades, like it's further away now. His shoulders relax as he exhales slowly, “..damn.” Heeseung mutters, “What?” Jake whispers.

Heeseung cracks a smile, subtle. “Nothing. I just– it–” He blinks once, he can’t put it into words, but somehow everything does feel lighter. Like the tension that's been in his body for the past week is just..gone.

“You good?” Sunghoon asks, an amused grin on his face. “Yeah,” Heeseung nods, leaning back against the wall. “I’m good.” 

“Heeseung?” His eyes follow the voice, Clair.

“Oh, hey–” He says, turning his attention towards her rather than the group, earning a side eye from Jake before he goes back to talking.

“You made it..” She says, almost sounding relieved. “Yeah, I uh– look,” He breathes, “I wanted to apologize for how I acted the other day, because you–” He looks down at his feet, “I think you were right, and I shouldn't have–”

She interrupts him “Its fine Heeseung, I forgive you.” Something flashes in her eyes, “I’m just glad we don’t have to worry about her anymore,” She says, smiling up at him.

Worry about her? He questions to himself, but shakes his head–mind already fuzzy.

“Babe, you don’t have to worry. Use tonight to finally relax, you love parties remember?” Yunjin says, smile bright on her face. Sunoo checks his reflection in his phone camera as you three approach said party.

“I don’t know– I really feel like I need to think about the stuff with Heeseung, he's probably sitting at home alone, I just feel bad and I never got the chance to tell him–” You continue on as you enter the house. 

Sunoo cuts you off, “I don’t think you have much to worry about.” Your eyes follow his, landing on Heeseung.

Laughing with a group, drink in hand, and none other than that fucking girl who can’t keep your name out of her mouth–practially glued to his side. You feel the heat rush to your face, “Shit–” Yunjin says, giving Sunoo a look, he shrugs. 

“Y/n, we can leave now if you want–” She starts, giving you a worried look,

“No,” You say bluntly, grabbing yourself a drink. “I’d seriously rather not,” You watch as he runs a hand through his hair, laughing at something Sunghoon said. 

“We should say Hi,” You look at Sunoo and Yunjin, smiling. Except it doesn't quite meet your eyes. “Are you sure that's a good idea–” Sunoo says through a laugh, “Okay, nevermind she's going.”

“Look who finally decided to show her pretty face,” One of the guys says, you don’t even know who it is, because all you’re focused on is Heeseung’s face when he sees you.

Yunjin and Sunoo come behind you, greeting everyone else. You haven't even looked at Clair once, no point in wasting time on a liar like her.

Your eyes land on the joint in between his fingers that Sunghoon just passed him, “You smoke now?” You ask, tilting your head. His eyes travel back up to your face immediately, not even aware of how obvious he was with it.

“I– No–” You look down at his hand, he swallows, “I just–” You hum in response, lifting his hand on your own, bringing it to your mouth.

His lips fall open slightly as you inhale, slow, practiced, even though you haven't smoked in forever. 

“Damn,” One of the guys–presumebly Jay says, watching the scene. Sunoo chuckles, shaking his head knowingly.

“So you like parties now?” You ask, he looks down at your lips, watching as they move– fuck he’s not even listenting right now. 

“Huh?” He asks, blinking once. “I asked if you like parties now,” You repeat, ignoring the glare the girl beside him is giving you.

“I mean, I don’t– Jake dragged me here.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. You watch as Clair tugs on the short sleeve of his plain white shirt, you mask the surprise at that–normally it would be some band or animated character on it.

He looks at her for a split second and she leans up to whisper something in his ear.

“What was that?” You ask, “Y/n–” Heeseung starts but Clair interrupts him. “I was saying, you need to leave him alone.” She says, and you scoff– looking at her, Jake's eyes look between the three of you like he can’t believe what's going on. You don’t even care who's looking at this point either.

“He’s a big boy, he can speak for himself.” You say, not sparing her a glance.

“Can you not be such a bitch for like five seconds–” This time he looks at her, already taking a step back,

“Oh, I’m the bitch? I’m not the one who twisted my words into something just so you could be on his good side.” You say, the accusation makes her freeze.

“You don’t deserve him–” She starts,

“Please, stop.” Heeseung says, you look at him–the anxiousness in his slightly red eyes. She still continues, “Stop!” He nearly yells, way louder than intended, his ears going red at the heads that turn. 

“Y/n– can we please just..talk outside, maybe?” He asks, you shake your head, a dry chuckle leaving your throat. “You seem pretty occupied Heeseung.” He opens his mouth to speak but closes it when you walk away, disappearing down the same hall your friends wandered off to a little bit before that. 

“Fuck..” He whispers to himself, regretting whatever amount he drank, and most of all whatever the fuck he smoked. “I need to–” He pauses, closing his eyes for a second, “-I need to go talk to her, I cant–” He looks down at the girl beside him,

“Is it true?” He asks, genuine hurt in his expression, “Is what true?” She swallows, “You, twisting her words– did you lie to me?” He asks, searching her face for something honest. “I–”

The hesitation is enough. 

The next words that leave her mouth are muffled by the sound of the insufferable music playing on the speakers, and overlapping voices of people talking and shouting. He doesn’t even know where he's going, he doesn’t know what he's doing–what he's going to say to you when he sees you, “Y/n?” He shouts, knocking on a closed door, when no one replies he moves on, 

He's said the words “Excuse me” and “Sorry” over ten times in the last five minutes, pulling his phone out of his pocket, texting you would make total sense right—dead. Of course his phone is dead right now, out of any time.

This is what he gets for playing geometry dash for the first 30 minutes here. 

Who the hell can even afford a house this big anyway while also being a college student. He doesn’t even bother knocking anymore, immediately regretting it when he walks in on a guy who, if he's not mistaken, had two girls in the bed with him, his face going red immediately before yelling a “Shit I-im– Sorry!” and slamming the door shut.

You check yourself in the mirror one more time before opening the door, only to see none other than Lee Heeseung already standing there. Hand reached out to open the door, he brings it back to his side awkwardly, “Hi–” You raise a brow, “Hi.” 

Why didn’t he fucking rehearse this? “Did you um– How was the tutoring?” He asks, shifting on his feet.

You chuckle dryly, “I didn’t go.” You say plainly, his face changes to concern. “You need the tutoring though– your grade..” 

“And you’re seriously talking to me about tutoring right now?” He shakes his head “Sorry– I’m just..” He sighs, "I'm really nervous right now, I can’t–” He breathes out, “I don’t like how we left things– how I left things.” 

“You’ve been avoiding me for days.” You state, trying to keep your voice that steady tone. “I know, I know– it was stupid of me, I shouldn't have–where are you going?” You move past him, “I’m not talking about this in the middle of a house party.” 

“Please Y/n–”

“So are you coming or not?” He doesn't hesitate before following after you, looking down at your phone as you send your friends a text he doesn’t have enough time to read. You ignore the looks as you and Heeseung make your way to the front door, 

“I shouldn’t have avoided you like that.” He says, falling into step beside you. Cursing himself for forgetting his hoodie, but no way was he going back in there when he had you right here. 

When you don’t say anything he continues, “I just– I was confused when you hesitated, when I asked you about the whole thing..” He says quieter, looking at your side profile under the streetlights.

“About me using you?” His steps falter for a moment, “Yeah, that.”

“I honestly think I was an idiot–I mean, expecting you out of all people to actually like a guy like me.” He chuckles at the thought, “Hee–” You pause on the sidewalk, “I–” You look up at him, “I should have been honest with you– I shouldn't have hesitated when I knew it wasn’t true– but I did say some things..”

You watch his face for a reaction “It's just, your attention felt different to me, like you actually liked me, not just the surface level either and I just– I guess I thrived off of it in a way?” You cringe at the idea,

“And I regret it.. I regret it so much Heeseung.” You don’t even register the first tear that slips out until his hand comes up to your face immediately to wipe it away, “Shhh, don’t cry–don’t,” He breaths, retracting his hand– because he doesn’t deserve to touch you.

“I don’t regret anything we did though,” You clarify, looking up at him, he turns away, continuing to walk beside you, “I’m sorry,” He whispers, you look at him confused, "I'm sorry for being a coward, f-for walking out on you.” 

“Im sorry for not being honest with you Heeseung– because I like you, a lot. Probably way more than I should, and definitely more than I thought.” You say, a dry chuckle leaving your throat.

“I like your stupidly perfect hair even after you run your hands through it every second– I like how you’re so open about your interests even if some people think it’s weird, I think your toy story fascination is really funny and cute actually, and I like that I can actually be myself around you..” 

“I hate that I made you doubt any of that.”

He pauses in front of you, looking past your shoulder at your apartment complex. “Y/n–” He starts, but you shake your head, “You don’t have to reply to me now– ” He takes a step forward

“Look y/n– I really, really want you in my life– I know it might be selfish but I just.. I can’t let you go.” He takes a surprising step closer, “And I understand if you don’t want to–but, can we at least be friends?” 

What the fuck? 

Friends? Seriously? You just practically poured your heart out, and he’s talking about friends! Did you mis-read the situation?

“Friends?” You ask, searching his face, He nods, waiting for an answer. You close your eyes for a moment before looking at him again, “Okay, friends.”

He lets out a relieved sound before pulling you into an embrace, you’re caught off guard, hands awkwardly at your sides before you lift them slowly to wrap around his body. 

“We can put the..stuff that happened in the past too–”

No! A part of you wants to scream, push him back, tell him that's not what you want–that you don’t get jealous over something as stupid as a guy, and yet here you are. 

“I.. Okay” You nod against his chest, he pulls back, hands braced on your shoulders, and he’s smiling–actually fucking smiling. “I can walk you up to your apartment–” he starts,

“No,” You quickly say, and yes– because you need a moment to think about what the fuck you’re doing, and because you don’t know what you’ll do if you’re in his presence for another five minutes. 

You chuckle awkwardly, “No–Like, I’m fine–really, I can do it myself,” His hands come to his sides, “Okay! um, great” He nods, “Text me when you’re up there then–shit nevermind, my phone kind of died at the party, I was playing geometry dash for like the first thirty–”

He watches your expression “-Sorry, im rambling again– I should probably go.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Heeseung.” You say,  bringing his attention back to you, “You’re not going back to the party right?”

He shakes his head immediately, “I was just going to go back to my place anyways– I think I've had enough of the ‘party life’ for one night,” He says through a laugh. you nod, slightly relieved before offering a tight smile, “Good,” he lifts his hand to wave– that awkward one that used to make you cringe, but now, you can’t help but find it adorable. He doesn’t leave until you’re inside of the building.

-

“..No fucking way–” Jake says mid laugh, right in Heeseungs face. “I just– I didn’t know what to do, or say, so that's why I did it.” Heeseung murmurs, running through the code for his game once again. 

“Yeah, well it was a stupid move–I mean, you, out of all people, being friends with Y/n.” He laughs again, “Seriously its fucking comedic” Heeseung finally looks up, “Whats that supposed to mean?” 

“Dude, im just saying– she’s not the kind of girl you can just be friends with, especially you.” His eyes fall to Heeseung's monitor, “Holy shit– it’s turning out good, you think it’ll be ready by Saturday?” He says, changing the topic. 

Heeseung shakes his head, “Yeah I just have to run through it a few more times, It’s still a bit choppy.” Jake chuckles, “Alright, let me know if you need any help– I know im not participating in it professionally and all but I still do this for fun y’know.” Heeseung nods, mind still replaying his other words. 

He can totally be friends with you! Who cares if he has had a crush on you for months, who cares if he almost actually had you– like really had you. Friends make sense, obviously. No complicated feelings just–normal, like nothing happened..right?

“Wait,” Jake says, leaning in closer–watching as a new screen pops up, a character model loading in. A little rough around the edges, but it’s the most detailed one he's shown so far.

Heeseung pauses, finger hovering over his mouse, “What–” , “Why does she look familiar?” Jake asks, brow raised.

Heeseung stills for a moment before shrugging, “Nah, she doesn’t” He resorts casually–at least attempting to. “She does.” Jake counters back,

“She’s quite literally just a character,” Heeseung says through a chuckle. “Yeah, with a specific attitude, face—body.” Heeseung rolls his eyes, “You’re reaching right now.”

Jake laughs, standing up, “The hair, really? Pink?” Heeseung looks at his screen again, “It’s just a design choice.” He simply says. “You sure it’s not just a distraction, so people don’t recognize who it actually looks like?”

Heeseung scoffs, “It’s not even based on anyone.” Jake nods, unconvinced, “Right..totally random.” Heeseung squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, “..It’s just a lot easier to design a character when you have a reference,” he mutters quietly.

Jake smirks, “Yeah, and you picked her.” He doesn’t answer that. 

“Does she know?” Jake asks skeptically. “Of course she knows!” Heeseung says defensively,

“It was just before the whole..thing happened.” He says, fidgeting with the scroll wheel on his mouse. “Well shit, you can’t change it now–”

Heeseung groans, “Yeah, I gathered that.” He waits for Jake to leave his room before picking up his phone immediately.

Heeseung: hey, sorry if this is random

You: It’s not 

Hee: Oh, okay

Hee: Well it's about my game

You: ???

Heeseung: I understand if you don’t feel comfortable with me using you as a model for one of the characters

You: What?

You: Heeseung, I don’t mind

Hee: Are you sure? I don’t want it to be weird or anything

You: Why would it be weird?

You: didn’t we agree on being friends

You: Friends help each other out, yk

Hee: Sorry

Hee: I'm just really tired

Hee: I've been working on this for hours already today

You: :(

You: Can I help in any way

Hee: you still want to help me?

You: Yes lol

Hee: Actually, if you’re not busy right now could you send me a picture of yourself

Hee: Sorry that sounds creepy

Hee: Its for the game, I want to get your features right

God he's pathetic– he has plenty of pictures of you on his phone already. He bites his lip, watching as the bubbles show up, then disappear. 

“Fuck–” He whispers, opening the image you sent him. It’s nothing explicit or revealing, its just you– a real time selfie, lying in bed, the warm lighting in your room casting subtle shadows on  your face.

You: Is that okay?

Heeseung: Its perfect

Heeseung: the picture is 

Heeseung: I mean you are too sorry

Heeseung: but it works

You can’t help the laugh that escapes your throat, imagining his face right now. God–imagine how he’d react to nudes.

You: haha thanks

Hee: would u be okay stopping by the computer lab tmrw? Not for long or anything I don't want to bore you, just because I want to get the finishing touches

You: yeah sure i don’t mind :)

Hee: Thanks y/n, i really appreciate it

You like the message before you say anything stupid–resisting the urge turning the conversation into something you’d probably regret in the morning. Friends, right– that's it. You’re totally fine with that, this is what friends do!

-

This is seriously the one place where you can’t seem to fit in. And of course, it's exactly where Heeseung thrives. You walk down the narrow aisle, once again trying to ignore the looks you get. Heeseung knows you finally came from the way Jake stops speaking and looks behind him slightly shocked. 

“Hey,” You smile–or at least attempt to. “Hi,” He says, looking up at you. Band t-shirt, and jeans baggy on his frame in an intentional way.

You stare at each other for a moment, he blinks– “Right– um, you can sit here,” He says, pulling out the empty seat next to him. You nod, setting your bag on the ground.

Jake shakes his head, a smug smile on his face as he continues working. “I didn’t interrupt anything right–”

“No!” Heeseung says a little too loud. “I mean– no, you came perfectly– here, like you came on time.” Jake attempts to stifle a laugh beside him.

He clears his throat, “Sorry, I'm just..stressed, I’ve been preparing this for months and I really don’t want to mess it up.” You nod, “It’s okay Hee, you're like really good at this stuff so im sure its amazing already.” He smiles, genuinely, “Its– I..thanks,” 

“I can show you what it looks like so far?” He clicks some buttons you’re not quite sure what they do– “Holy shit,” You watch his screen,

“Heeseung, you made this?” He nods, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, like I said it still needs some more work but I have a few more days.” 

“This is like one of those professional games– I honestly don’t really know much about this stuff but this is—legit.” He bites his lip, smile peaking through. “You mean it?” He asks, watching you’re face as you look at his monitor, “Yeah–yeah, I really do,”

“Can I see the character inspired by me?” You ask, nudging his leg with your foot, an action he still can’t find himself getting used to. His finger hovers over the mouse, “Not yet..” You tilt your head,

“I was actually hoping you would–maybe want to come to the event on Saturday?” He visibly swallows, “I just– you don’t have to or anything, I understand if you’re busy but I do really want you there and um, your support means a lot to me,” He says, the last words fading into something only you can hear.

“I’ll be there,” You say, hand coming down to rest on his knee- casually, like it’s normal, which it should be since your uh..friends?

He looks down at your hand, before making eye contact again, “Are you sure– like positive? I don’t want you to feel forced, and you can bring your friends if you want to– actually I don’t know, I don’t want to make a fool of myself..” He rambles on, doing that thing where his words come out faster than his brain can process it.

You laugh, a small sound–he pauses, looking at you again, “I’ll ask them if they can, okay?” He nods, “Don’t stress so much, those gaming CEO guys would be stupid not to invest in something like this,” You say, gesturing to his screen, your hand absent mindedly rubbing small circles on his leg.

His hand comes down to rest on yours, squeezing gently. And in that moment where his skin meets yours– you swear the whole room disappears.

The looks you can sense you’re getting from Clair, the sounds of the other students talking about whatever code–thingy they’re working on. “Thank you, it– it really means a lot to me.” 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, once–twice. “I should probably go, my uh class it’s, yeah.” He retracts his hand quickly, nodding three times,

“Right– yeah, sorry.. I don’t want you to be late or anything.” He chuckles, almost nervously. “Yeah that would be bad huh?” You say, quirking a smile.

“I’ll um, I’ll text you more details about it,” Heeseung mutters, watching you pick up your bag.

“I’ll answer,” You say pushing in the chair, “Y-yeah, see you later y/n–” You smile one more time before leaving, heart racing at a concerning speed- not only because of the interaction but because it was with Heeseung, the guy you told yourself was your friend– the one you were trying so hard to convince over.

“Okay what the hell was that–” Jake says, eyeing his friend, “What was what?” Heeseung questions, chuckling,

“That whole..pathetic act thing.” He says, gesturing to Heeseung. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jake laughs, “Man—it’s just both of you huh?” Heeseung shakes his head before turning back to his monitor.

Yeah, whatever that means, anyways what he really needs to focus on is finishing this up– after all this is probably a once in a lifetime opportunity. 

-

Heeseungs been busy all week, specifically with finishing up the programming dynamics– or whatever it was he said.

Yet he still offered to make you a video explaining what was happening in your physics class, mostly because you refused to be tutored by anyone else besides him. A part of him felt prideful when you admitted that actually.

The event was being held in the nicer part of the University, a sort of auditorium type of building.

And yet here he is, in the dimly lit computer lab, trying to make sure everything runs perfectly once again. He can’t afford a fuck up, not when hes been waiting for this for so long. 

Jake: dude where are u

Jake: profs looking for u

Jake: u better not be second guessing this

Heeseung: i just wanted to make sure it ran smoothly

Heeseung: im coming back

Jake: hurry up

Jake: y/ns here

Jake: shes asking where you are

Jake: shes walking towards me

Jake: oh shit

“Where's Heeseung?” you ask the boy who you know as Jake, Heeseung's best friend. “Hes uh–” You raise a brow,

“He's in the computer lab, he’s nervous as shit right now and he thinks going through it again is going to help.” You nod, of course he would be. 

Jake looks back down at his phone before typing a quick message

Jake: Good luck

You open the door to the computer lab quietly, the only screen on being towards the front of the room, bright in the dim lighting.

Hes standing up, leaning against the desk, wearing a..suit jacket? “Hee?” You question, walking down the row, he turns to you, surprise etched across his features. 

“Y/n– you came..” He says, looking down at your outfit for a split second, a short summer dress that compliments you a bit too well, he swallows, hand hovering over the mouse.

“Of course I did,” You reply, now standing in front of him. “You’re..pretty dressed up,” You note with a smile. He looks down at his outfit, “Is it too much? I wanted to wear something that would make them take me seriously– y’know what I mean?” He says, smoothing down the black blazer. “Heeseung.” 

His eyes fall on you again, “Yes?” he says quietly. “You look good, okay?” He nods, “Maybe just lose the blazer..” He stifles a laugh “See, I knew it was too much,”

He shakes his head, smile on his face as he unbuttons it, leaving him with a white button up instead. “Better?” He asks, looking for your approval, “Much better.”

His eyes search yours for a moment, “I'm really glad you showed up,” He says, biting his lip out of pure nervous habit, yet you can’t help the way your eyes fall to the action.

You clear your throat, “I brought something for you– I was going to wait till after but maybe it would help cool your nerves.” You say, pulling something out of your bag.

“Okay before you say anything– Sunoo is like really good at finding all this underground stuff and this guy was selling these and I know you were talking about it a few weeks ago..” He tilts his head, amusement spread across his features,

“Who's rambling now?” You roll your eyes, “Shut up and close your eyes or I'm not giving it to you.” He raises his hands instantly, “Alright– alright, sorry,” You grab his hand, placing the box in it. 

He chuckles “What is this–” , “Open,” You watch his face, the surprise spreading, “Holy–” He smiles, “Y/n, how did you–” You attempt to hide your own smile, biting your lip.

He looks at the limited addition Toy Story figurine closer, “Do you– do you know how rare this is? Only 500 were made in 1999–”

Right.. Because of course he would know that. He laughs, disbelieving “You’re incredible, seriously–y/n I..” He doesn’t think twice before wrapping his arms around you, you’re caught off guard at first, one of your hands trailing up to run through the back of his hair, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

You don’t know if you’re just feeling things but you swear he planted a small kiss just between your shoulder blade and neck, He pulls back, "I'm really happy you’re here,” He says, turning off the monitor and falling into step beside you.

You watch Heeseung from the crowd, hand clutched tight around the strap of your bag as he talks off to the side–with Clair. Why the hell is she touching his arm– He looks past her shoulder, spotting you in the crowd, a small smile quirking on his lips before he waves. Your face softens before waving back, 

“I was talking to the developers and they were describing the concepts they were looking for–Heeseung, your game fits right into it.” Jake says, Clair opens her mouth to say something but Heeseung doesn’t even realize he's blocking it out. “Okay– I can do this.” He nods, smoothing down the front of his button up.

He looks around the room at the people sitting down, a mix of students, professors, people from the Gaming development club. Jake watches the worried expression on his face as his eyes land on the front row, the developers– big time CEO’s with their notebooks out, laptops open. “Hey–you’re good..just don’t pass out,” Jake says with a laugh

“That’s helpful.” Heeseungs mutters, wiping his sweat clad hands on his jeans before stepping onto the wide stage, standing behind the podium.

He takes a deep breath, signaling Jake to put the game on the large screen behind him. “Hi everyone– my name is Heeseung, so..this is my game I developed.” 

He tries not to cringe at his own voice, “So, it’s actually more narrative driven rather than pre set choices,” He pauses for a moment, “Whatever decisions the player makes– that's what would affect the character in real time,” He says, his voice carrying a tad bit more enthusiasm.

This is what he knows, this is what he's good at, he picks up the remote on the podium moving onto the next slide, showing the actual game play, the code, what he created on his laptop now being shared in front of a room full of people. “I programmed the system to keep track of the patterns and players choices,” 

He's using his hands to exaggerate now–a thing he does when he's truly passionate about something. You can’t help the smile that plays on your face.

He continues, talking about how the games programming, the code, and a few of the developers lean forward, he swallows, trying not to think too deeply.

His character designs come on the screen next, hushed whispers around you, “How does someone even design that–” A guy next to you says, “Look how detailed the one on the left is–” A girl whispers. 

He looks at the screen before searching the crowd for you, clearing his throat, “The character designs are actually still in progress but I wanted to focus on them feeling real– throughout the gameplay especially, whether it's a fight scene, a task, you name it.” 

Your eyes fall to the developers at the front of the room, nodding, taking notes. It’s silent for a moment until a voice cuts through, one of the developers speaks up, “Walk us through the character tracking system again,” He says– Heeseung nods, this means they're interested, 

“Yeah–okay,” You watch Heeseung get into his element, it’s like the room loosens up as he continues, some people from the crowd raising their hands to ask questions, even compliments directly from the developers. But there's still a tightening feeling in your chest, in the way you’re here supporting him–but as nothing more than a friend.

It’s places like these that you’re not really sure what to do, you watch as Heeseung talks to a few other students, low and behold–with Clair by his side. He searches the room for a moment, but is interrupted when a man in a very nice suit comes up to him, 

“Lee Heeseung?” He questions, Heeseung nods, “Yes sir, that would be me,” He says with an almost nervous smile on his face, “I wanted to give you my card, your game has potential– I mean that truly, and I think you could go places with creativity like that,” The man says, Heeseung reaches out for the card, looking down at it for a moment, “Wait– EN Capital? This– you’re one of the biggest developers in the country–” Heesueng states, eyes wide,

The man nods, “It’s not everyday we scout someone like this Heeseung, so please, take into consideration giving us a call,”

Heeseung nods, “Sir– yes, I’ll definitely be calling–” He says through a disbelieving chuckle. The man nods with a smile on his face before reaching out to shake Heeseung's hand, “I’m excited to see how you progress.”

Heeseung looks around the large room again, “..fucking genius dude, I swear.” Jake says, the words completely blanking in Heeseung's mind,

“Where's y/n?” He says outloud, Jake raises a brow, “One of the most prestigious gaming developers in the country just told you to quote ‘give him a call’ and you’re wondering where the girl who pretty much broke your heart is?” Jake questions, 

Heeseung opens his mouth to speak, but shakes his head, “I need to find her– I invited her,” Heeseung mutters, “She went outside” Jake says, nodding towards the door. Heeseung's eyes follow the motion. “I’ll um.. I’ll be right back” Heeseung mumbles, moving past Jake, “Dude what about–” 

Heeseung makes his way out the room, looking around for you“Y/n–” He calls out, you let go of the door you were just about to walk out of, turning towards him,

“Hey,” You say with a smile, “Where are you going?” He asks, walking up to you. “I was going to head back, I didn’t want to like interrupt or anything,”

“You could never,” He says, watching your face, “You seemed pretty occupied though, not just with the developers..” He tilts his head, “Occupied with who?” He tests, searching your eyes,

“I dunno’.. Clair” He smiles, “What?” You say defensively, “No– nothing, nothing,” He says, a laugh escaping his lips.

“It’s just—are you jealous?” He asks, “I..what?” He nods, humming in response. “I’m not—stop laughing!” You say, slapping his arm lightly. 

“Heeseung–” You nearly roll your eyes, actually no, you do roll your eyes as Clair approaches him. You watch as people begin to file out of the auditorium. Her eyes land on you for a split second, “We were all gonna go hang out at my place to celebrate and everything, do you wanna–” 

“No–” He says too quickly, “I mean– I just, I’m really tired and uh..” He looks at you for a moment, “Im busy” you watch the disappointment across her face.

“Heeseung, if you want to you can..” You say, low enough for him to hear. “No, I want to be with you tonight– I mean right now, like I want to spend time with you” He runs a hand through his hair,

“Look, maybe some other time,” He says to Clair, she scoffs before walking past the both of you. Jake comes up a few moments later, “We’re doing something after if you wanna join, ill text the address,” He says, giving Heeseung his bag, “I’ll let y’know,” Jake shrugs before walking out. 

Heeseung turns his full focus back to you “I can walk you back to your place if you would like?” He says, clearing his throat. You nod, “I would like that,”

He smiles before falling into step beside you. “Y’know, I’m really happy you came tonight– I know I said it already but you probably don’t go to things like that for fun,” He says through a chuckle

You nod, "I've seen how hard you’ve worked on it Hee, plus its the least I can do for you tutoring me and all,” He glances down at you,

“I think you repaid me enough for the lessons” He pauses, “Like- with your kindness not the–” He closes his eyes for a moment, ”Not the other thing– even though yes it was definitely good, I mean I still think about..” He stops, “Sorry—fuck, Y/n please just tell me to shut up.” He cringes at his words,

You can’t help the smile that plays on your face, “Why? It’s kind of cute” 

Thank god you don’t look up to notice the embarrassing shade of red his ears are right now. He pauses once he gets in front of your building, hands awkwardly in the pockets of his jeans. “So….”

“Do you want to come in?” You ask abruptly, catching him off guard. “L-like inside your apartment?” He asks, unsure.

You nod once, “Just like—I have that ramen, the one with buzz lightyear on it.” 

Your hand tightens around the strap of your bag. “..I honestly thought you would have gotten rid of that” He says, searching your face. You shake your head, “I couldn't," You say quietly, and a little bit more shy than intended. “Okay– um, yeah I would love to come in then,” He nods, following you. 

And he means it when he says he’ll never get over the way it smells exactly like you in here. He takes off his dress shoes, placing them neatly against your wall by the front door, next to your platformed sandals that you kicked off casually. 

He leans against your counter as you reach up into your cabinet, his eyes trying to avoid the way your already short dress rides up even higher on your exposed legs. Your hand pauses mid air before you bring it back down to your side, “Do you need help–”

“Heeseung.” You turn to fully face him, he pauses mid sentence, “Yea–Yeah?” He questions, clearing his throat. “Are we seriously about to make ramen right now?” He rubs the back of his neck “I mean-I thought that's what we were doing..” His words catch in his throat when you close the distance.

His eyes fall to your lips and you smirk, “What are you thinking about right now then?” He visibly swallows, licking his own lips instinctively

“Just how good they would taste–” He blinks once, “..The ramen—how good the ramen would taste.” He says, clearing his throat. You hum in response, eyes dropping just below his waistband, he catches that easily. “Yeah? Just the ramen huh?” You say, that familiar teasing tone in your voice that he hasn’t heard for far too long.

“I– What are you doing..” He breathes out, trying to calm the rapid pace of his heartbeat even as you step closer, “You haven’t thought about this– about us recently?” You tilt your head, watching his face for a reaction.

“Of course I have!” He says quickly, “I– y/n it’s all I could fucking think about, just you, touching me, talking to me–like actually telling me about things..” He lets out a chuckle, almost disbelieving, like he wasn’t planning on admitting this, which to be fair he wasn't. 

“Do you know how long I've wanted you?” He asks, you nod “Since the tutoring–” He shakes his head, a small smile on his lips,

“No, econ, 4th row. You were wearing that long sleeve and jeans that fit you perfectly, and I remember you had asked me if I always talk like my brain moved too fast,” He laughs at the memory, “...and you had said almost every day,” you finish for him.

“I know you try to be perfect y/n– I know the expectations you have for yourself, and I know that it leaves no room to actually breathe,” He doesn’t know where this is coming from– but then again, he always talks before his brain processes what he's saying,

“because I have those same expectations for myself– I mean, I'm not as good at it as you but I do.” He sighs, “But when I'm with you– it's different and I guess I was hoping it was the same for you–”

His words are immediately cut off when your lips press against his, your right hand pulling at the collar of his shirt. His eyes flutter shut, melting into you completely, his hands are hesitant–unsure as they come to rest on your waist. You don't pull back far, just enough to whisper “it is the same for me Hee– I always felt it I just.. I guess I didn’t think I deserved it.”

He presses a small kiss to the corner of your lips, “Well if it means something– I think you do..” you laugh softly, raking your other hand through his soft hair. 

“You still want that ramen?” You ask teasingly, he shakes his head quickly “No–no definitely not I want this, here,” He says confidently, you tilt your head, your hand that was on his collar moving lower skimming over his toned chest, cupping the firm bulge of him through his jeans. His eyebrows furrow together at the contact, “Hee, don’t tell me you’re hard just from a little kiss?” You say with a smirk,

He shakes his head, eyes shutting for a moment, “I can’t help it–” He whispers pathetically. You squeeze the bulge and his mouth falls open,

“Gosh.. I seriously don’t understand how you just walk around with a dick this big everyday like it’s nothing,” his face reddens at how filthy your words are.

“Feel how bad I want you right now,” You say, grabbing his hand from your waist, he complies, letting you guide his hand between your legs, he lets out a broken sound when his palm fully cups you. 

You grind down on his palm once, his dick throbs at the contact–the way he can feel you soaking through the thin fabric of your underwear. You hike your dress up so you can move  your underwear to the side, exposing yourself to him completely, “Fuck–” He curses, his finger tips brushing through your folds experimentally. You moan at the contact– uncontrolled and all for him,

“Just like that– Hee..” You brace your hands on his shoulders when his fingertip grazes your clit, “Right there?” He asks curiously, a part of him needing to get this right because he needs to make you feel good.

You nod, biting your lip when he experimentally squeezes your clit between his index and middle finger, making you even more wet,

He chuckles, “It's– it’s kind of hard because it's so wet” He notes, the pad of his finger tips teasing your hole unknowingly.

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment, he notices “I like it” He says, watching your face morph into pleasure, “Why—why are you so good at this?” You breathe out,

“I use my fingers a lot—for like typing and stuff, coding y’know?” You moan when the tip of his middle finger enters your hole cautiously, his eyebrows raise. “Y-yeah right” 

He repeats the motion, this time using the opportunity to push deeper, you clench around his fingers and he feels his cock throb inside of his jeans, “its so…warm” He notes, “Try curling your finger–” Your words fade into a whimper when he does exactly that,

“Hee..Heeseung–wait,” He repeats the motion again, brushing inside of you with each curl of his slender finger. 

“Not here–” You breathe out, your grip tightening on his shoulder. “Your room?” He questions, inching his finger out, you nod,

“…you’re so pretty” He says sitting on the edge of your bed, “Yeah?” You ask, watching him move back until he's against your pillows. “What do you want, Heeseung?” He swallows, "Whatever you give me honestly–” 

“Ever had a girl ride you?” You ask, climbing on the bed with him, legs tucked under you as you settle between his legs. He shakes his head a bead of sweat forming just above his eyebrow.

“I kind of like that I'm the only one who's seen you like this,” You say, finger tracing innocent circles on his thigh. “I like it that way” He admits, avoiding looking down at the embarrassing way his dick twitches at the featherlight touches his thigh.

“Cute,” You say with a sweet smile, opposite of the way your fingers make contact with the buttons on his shirt. You remove it with ease, the slightly sharp tip of your nail sending heat straight to his dick as you trace his abdomen.

You lean down, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest, his hands grip into the sheets of his bed when your tongue ghosts over his nipple, “Fuck– y/n..I can’t–” His hips buck forward, searching for any form of friction

“Ive been wanting you inside me for so long Hee,” His eyes roll when your hand comes in contact with his cock, even through the jeans you can feel the heat of him. “Wanna feel you so bad– I need it..I can’t–” He whines, you sit up, watching as he frantically works to take off his jeans. 

You move from between his legs, pulling the straps of your dress down, letting it fall limply to the floor. His own hand palms his cock through his boxers when he sees you’re not even wearing a fucking bra.

“Please–can I?” He asks, watching as you climb back on top of him. You chuckle “Acting like you’ve never seen my tits before Heeseung,” 

“Been too long–” He says desperately, his hand hesitating, looking at you for approval before he touches you. You nod and both of his hands immediately cup your breasts. He’s almost massaging them in his hands, “I- I can’t believe you’re letting me do this..” He whispers, thumb swiping over your nipples, you grind down once against him and his movements falter–

“I’ll cum if you keep doing t-that” He regrets admitting that when you do it again, drawing a wrecked sound from him. His ears heat up in embarrassment at how loud he is, Your hand comes up to his cheek, “Don’t be embarrassed Hee– I love when you’re vocal for me,” He leans into the way you touch his face, the action making you feel even more warm inside.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he presses a kiss directly to your nipple, his thumb working the other one. He’s not quite sure what he's doing– this just feels right. His tongue darts out, slightly unsure, licking just around the sensitive bud. “H-Hee..” Your hand moves to his hair, raking through the soft strands, pulling him closer. 

“I want this so bad..” He whispers, eyes fluttering shut when he sucks on your nipple. You hiss when his teeth graze it, tugging his hair, he groans at the pull. He alternates to the other side, not wanting to leave a single part of your body untouched. “I could do this forever– I swear I could,” You grind your hips down harder against him, “D-don’t–” He whimpers, looking up at you. 

Instead, you lean down to kiss him, moving your hips in a back and forward motion, the tip of his dick hitting you perfectly through the thin fabric of your underwear. “Gonna cum?” You ask between kisses, he nods frantically, tongue darting out, begging for entry back into your mouth. 

You pull away and he whines, hand glued to your chest. You shake your head with a smile before reaching for the waistband of his boxers, you peel them off, revealing his flushed cock, now resting heavy on his pelvis, precum already drooling down. You lick your lips, already moving to slide off your own underwear. 

He's watching in awe– because you are actually in front of him right now– naked, practically fucking glowing. When you wrap your hand around the base, he automatically thrusts up, easy to do with how wet it is. “Needy much?” You tease, moving your hand up slowly, thumb swiping over the tip, causing another drop of precum to leak, making a further mess on your hand. 

“I c-can’t help it..” He mutters out, cheeks flushed, hair sticking to his forehead, chest glistening with a thin layer of sweat already. You hover over him, angling the tip of his cock, you swipe it through your folds once–twice, mixing both of your arousal together, the warmth already draws a moan from him. “W-wait..” He says, hand reaching for your wrist.

You pause, looking at him, “Don’t we need a– um.. Condom?” You tilt your head, amusement on your face, “I’m on the pill Hee, plus I want you to cum inside of me.” You’re going to kill him, like he’s actually going to pass out right now. 

You position his tip just before your entrance, before sinking down. The stretch is almost immediate, your pussy greedily sucking him in. “Oh my God–” His eyes flutter shut, hands reaching out to hold onto your hips. “Y-you’re so big Heeseung–” You’re already clenching around him, his hips involuntarily thrust up and you whimper,

“Shit–sorry, y/n..oh—” You sink down further, completely enveloping his thick cock inside of you. Your hands are braced against his chest now, “A-are you okay?” He asks, voice rough. You laugh lightly causing you to clench tightly around him. You experimentally grind your hips forward, both of your moans mixing together. 

His hands wander, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass as you grind against him. He nearly chokes on air when you lift yourself up halfway just to slam back down against him, his finger digging deeper into your hips– “Y/n– wait!” You repeat the movement and thats when you feel it– warmth inside of you. 

His eyes are wide in worry– “I-Im sorry.. Im sorry–please” a whimper leaving his lips as cum leaks from his still hard dick. “Shhh.. it’s okay Hee,” He shakes his head, “I promise I can go longer– I just need to practice more” He tries to convince you, but you’re already set on making him cum again.

You lean back, spreading your legs wider, hands splayed behind you on his thighs to support yourself. You lift your hips, causing his cum to leak out of you and trickle down his length, making an even bigger mess. It’s so messy but he could care less,

His cum acts as lube, allowing you to move even more smoothly, the sounds coming from the both of you are borderline pornographic, the wet skin on skin every time you slam your hips back down against his. 

Your mouth hangs open, desperate moans escaping as you bounce on his dick, “Heeseung–” You cry out, grinding against him, the tip of his cock hitting just right inside of you, “You look so pretty right now–” He says through a needy whine, his eyes don’t know what to focus on– the way your tits move each time you grind forward, your face, or where you two connect right now.

He tries something– moving his finger from your hip, applying pressure to your puffy clit instead, your hips jerk forward, pussy clamping tight around him. The rhythm you had moments ago falters, replaced by desperate grinds against him as you chase your orgasm, his thumb rubs small circles on your sensitive bud, “I’m gonna cum Hee– I can’t” You cry out, leaning forward again, bracing your hands on his chest “Yes– fuck, please use me–” His thumb still works, his own hips attempting to thrust up, your nails scratch at his chest as a new wave of pleasure crashes over you.

He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your jaw, his dick throbbing inside of your warmth, your juices leaking down, covering his balls and making a mess on your sheets. His hands travel from your hair, smoothing it down to your back, “I’m gonna’ cum again–please?” He says, looking up at you. His dick twitches inside of you when you nod, his hands cup your ass in his hands, lifting you slightly– again, he’s trying to find his rhythm here too, contemplating if this is right, but it feels amazing.

He thrusts up once, earning a surprised gasp from you, he could fucking explode with the way your tits bounce in his face, the wet sounds filling your room contrast with both of your moans, his fading into whimpers as his hips move faster, almost using your hole as his own fuck toy. He captures one of your nipples in his mouth, his sounds muffled around the sensitive bud, the vibration sending shockwaves straight to your core.

“S-slow down–Hee.. Shit!” He's practically drilling into you, completely lost in the feeling of you, the sounds you're making–your face driving him even more. He pulls you down against him each time his hips lift forward, his tongue licking at your chest desperately. His grip on you is bruising as he delivers one final thrust–deep, the feeling of his cum spilling inside of you, driving your second orgasm, your pussy milking him dry as your own juices mix with his. 

His hands move from your ass to your waist, resting gently, soothing your sides as you both catch your breath. “That–that was..” Heeseung says, “Yeah,” You breathe, fingers running lazily through his soft hair. 

Eventually you two muster the strength to get up, your sensitive bodies still tingling with the nerves of pretty much the best sex you’ve ever had. 

You watch him closely as he reaches for a soft tissue from the pink box on your nightstand, he may be inexperienced in this field but he's not an idiot. “Is this okay?” He asks, cleaning you up– you nod,

“Are you okay?” He looks up at you for a second, “I–” he takes a deep breath before continuing “I don’t want this to be casual,” He says, eyes focused on gently swiping the tissue. Your face softens, “I don’t want it to be like before with the whole ‘favor for tutoring’ thing– I like you, really like you– if you couldn’t tell..” He bites his lip nervously,

“Is this your way of asking to be my boyfriend Lee Heeseung?” This time he looks up, “You would let me?” he asks, a sparkle of hope in his eyes, “I– this isn’t how I wanted to ask you, I need to get you flowers and—and a date,” He runs his hand through his slightly damp hair, you let out a small laugh,

“Calm down Hee, I really like you too,” You say through a smile. “..and yeah, I would let you..” He mirrors your smile, relief on his face as you pull him down—because being here, tangled with you, is exactly where he wants to be

-

Bonus

Heeseung would normally be spending his Friday night in his room, probably waiting for league to load in while he scrolls through the most random twitter threads. But being with you allows him to.. Step out of his shell more, even if it is involuntarily.

What was supposed to be a small hangout that consisted of a few of your friends and probably Jake to celebrate finals week ending, had turned into a big gathering at your local Korean BBQ place. Jake being Jake decided to invite nearly everyone from class after raving about how they “changed the menu”.   

His eyes stray to you, laughing at something that Sunoo said, Yunjin on the other side of him playfully shoving him. “..Hey, i’m headed out” Clair says, walking over to where Heeseung stands. You watch as she…hugs him. His hand awkwardly pats her back and you swear you could throw the chopsticks in your hand at her stupid face. “Bye everyone!” She says with a bright smile, you roll your eyes, watching as she leaves. 

Yunjin and Sunoo exchange a look, “Don’t kill her,” Sunoo says, laughing nervously. “Never said I would.” You mutter glancing at Heeseung, he offers a small wave, smile on his face. You scrunch your nose in a mocking way before turning back to your friends. 

Fuck.

“…yeah, well your face says it all,” Yunjin adds, amusement in her tone. “I don’t even care,” Sunoo laughs, earning a glare from you. “Yeah–right, are you gonna eat that?” He asks pointing to the three bites of food on your plate, you scoot it away from him, “Now I am,” You say with a smug smirk, earning a laugh from Yunjin.

You try– you really do, you know jealousy is something you need to work on, but no you’re not jealous right now, totally not at all!

Heeseung looks at you every few minutes– maybe seconds, there's no way you’re upset over a..farewell goodbye..right?

The walk back to his place is quiet. Not the comfortable silence you enjoy yourself in, but the kind where you can feel the tension. Specifically he can feel it–practically radiating off of you. “Is everything good?” He asks, watching you. When your eyes don't even find his, he swallows, lump in his throat. “It’s fine.”

Well shit, “fine” isn’t exactly what a guy wants to hear, why not “great”, or “fantastic” something so his brain can stop spiraling. You nearly scoff when he pulls out his phone. 

He’s pathetic–seriously, he winces before clicking the search bar on twitter: How to get your girlfriend to not be pissed at you

He doesn’t even say anything as you both enter his apartment, you roll your eyes as he walks to his bedroom, sitting at the edge of his bed. “Seriously Heeseung?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. He scrolls one more time before looking up at you with wide eyes, “Baby– hold on a second–” He mutters, 

“What are you even looking at?” You ask, attitude leaking through your tone. He shuts his eyes for a moment, “You’re mad at me,” he claims, avoiding eye contact. “And I– I was trying to figure out how to not make you mad at me– it’s stupid and I know it was because of..” , “Clair.” You finish his sentence for him. 

He nods, “I don’t even like her– seriously, like the only reason I have to be around her is because of the club and she’s in me and Jungwon's class–” You roll your eyes, “She’s literally obsessed with you– like it’s so fucking annoying everytime and she knows me and you are together.” His eyebrows furrow together, “I know, trust me I know–” He says, pulling you close, arms wrapping around the back of your thighs. 

“Well I'm not mad directly at you Hee..” You mumble quietly, he looks up at you, “But you’re still upset” He says, hands unintentionally gripping the back of your thighs. “And how exactly was the internet going to help fix that?” You ask lightly, hand running through his disheveled hair.

“I dunno’ it was stupid..” he mutters, reaching for his phone. He scrolls through the threads, angling it to show you. “Get on your knees and beg?” You chuckle, “I’d do it if you asked,” He says casually, “Flowers?” , “In a heartbeat,” His fingers freeze at the next words, Let her sit on your face. You know he's read it when he looks up at you. Your eyes fall to his lips, then to his nose– that perfect slope. He swallows, Adams apple bobbing. “We haven’t really tried it like…that–” He says, wetting his lips. 

“No, we haven't." He nods, slowly. “You said my nose was one of your favorite features about me, remember?” You chuckle lightly, “Of course I remember that.” His hands travel up slowly, casually in a way he’s gotten more comfortable doing ever since you two made it official, his hands ultimately resting on your ass. 

“..so, shouldn’t we put it to good use?” He questions, looking up at you expectantly. A smile spreads across your face, “Since when did Lee Heeseung become such a smooth talker?” He bites his lip through a smile, “it’s only for you pretty,”

He's watching you now, eyes zeroed in on your hands as they lift your shirt over your head. Your shorts are next, but he makes a sound when your underwear also comes off with them. Bare. You’re bare in front of him, your face flushing that adorable shade of pink he can’t get enough of. 

“C’mere,” You climb onto the bed with him until you're hovering just over his chest. “Heeseung– I don’t want to like… hurt you” His hands are already on your waist, attempting to tug you upwards. “You’re not– I want this” 

The look in his eyes is hungry, you hesitate for a moment before moving forward, until your knees are bracketed beside his head, your pussy right above his face. “Baby–” He breathes out, pulling you flush against his face. 

You gasp at the feeling, sure Heeseung's eaten you out before–plenty of times, but this– this is different. “Oh..fuck–Heeseung!” Your hands are in his hair, pulling the soft strands, he groans into your pussy, pure pleasure. 

His hands are gripping onto your ass, pulling you against him, He pulls off with a wet pop, “Ride my nose– come on, you know you want to,” He urges, giving a teasing lick to your clit. You hum out a response, eyes rolling when he nuzzles into your pussy, the bridge of his sharp nose hitting just right on your sensitive clit each time you move your hips forward slightly. His eyes are shut, completely lost in the feel– the smell of you so close to him. 

He pulls you back down, tongue prodding at your entrance, your hole desperately clenching–searching for fulfillment, and he gives it, he thrusts his tongue in and out of you the best he can, hands massaging your ass, nose applying pressure exactly where you need it. 

“I can–” He slurps once, the noise filthy in your bedroom, “I can never get enough of this–” His tongue flicks over your clit, alternating between sucking, teasing you through pursed lips. “Hee.. I–im gonna cum..” your plea encourages him more. He looks up at your face, your head thrown back, tits bouncing in that light pink bra, mouth hung open, face in pure pleasure.

There's no rhythm, just hunger as he devours you, your grip tightens in his hair as you reach your orgasm, your legs going weak, grinding on his mouth, he holds you there, not letting you up until every last drop of cum is drained out of you, his tongue moving in slow licks over your overstimulated clit, the feeling making your hips jerk. He kisses your pussy once, twice, gentle–completely different from the way he was just tongue deep inside of you.  

You settle on his stomach, still dripping, some getting onto his shirt but he could care less. “That was–” 

“Amazing.” He finishes for you, licking his lips. 

“You’re crazy.” You mumble, a shy smile already on your face.

“Only for you,” he whispers, hands traveling up your waist, your back, urging you to be even closer to him.

-

Nerd gamer heeseung come emp (Im not even joking)

perm taglist 13/50: @nishirikiluvr @kristynaaah @isa942572 @miemiem9 @ni-k1ttie @mystgene @gloiirte @cokewithcameron @cinnampngirl @xeiramz @enhatorous @hyuckzcult @stwryun

taglist I full: @voucearse @supahintohoon @wvndrls @misolhee @miyeonprincessu @v-irtujake @wonscrchy @cherryw0n @pqrkjyx @ateez-atiny380 @luucortis @iwtfpsh @foreveronez @chaostudee @rayofsunshineeee @yunkivamp @miemiem9 @gloiirte @jakekshh @seungiesdoll @heecinnamonroll @heef41ry @mheretoreadff @cutehoons02 @adorenishimura @hoonlvrrz @heeseungsgf26 @bambheexee @heehoonki1009 @nithxhoon @bingka @nobodybutyourslove @jvngw0nlvr @lovingsublimecrusade @enhaholicfan @shadesofc00l @fancypeacepersona

[arelyvn]

@pradacava @rikizm @andieekosmos @heeseung-ult-toehair @teenagecheesecakereview

[arelyvn]

MAKING PROGRESS - LHS (sneak peak)

You pride yourself upon being perfect, whether its your grades, your hair, your outfit, but most of all—your reputation. so what happens when a single bad grade tilts you off that perfect axis? or rather, the boy introduced into your life because of it..

content warnings: college au , smut , angst , heeseung is into gaming-hes also working on his own game , hes obsessed with toy story (as we know) , awkward moments , reader is prideful and a little manipulative , shes also confident , mentions of drinking , smoking in like one scene , jealousy issues , reader can be mean sometimes , heeseung is a sweetheart but a little gullible ✧ inexperienced hee , hand jobs , big dick hee (nerds are packing) , unprotected sex, oral (m&f) , more tags soon…

est word count: 25k

a/n: I’m finally (almost) done, ive been working on this for quite a while and I seriously couldn't wait any longer to at least release a quick little sneak peak for you guys of what this is going to be about. Im soo excited to see what you guys think because I went through so many emotions while writing it.. comment to be added to the taglist!

Releasing this sometime next week!

(or sooner..well see)

perm taglist: @kristynaaah @isa942572 @miemiem9 @ni-k1ttie @mystgene @gloiirte @cokewithcameron @cinnampngirl @xeiramz @enhatorous

current taglist for this fic: @voucearse @supahintohoon @wvndrls @misolhee @miyeonprincessu @v-irtujake @stwryun

[lovelee-evan]

𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 — heeseung lee oneshot

summary. hooking up with your best friend was convenient at first. you don’t have to go to clubs to find one night stands, you call him and he’ll come right away. you rule was simple: the others can’t know. but as months go by, it was clear this specific rule is slowly hurting the both of you. or instead it opens something new?

pairings. fwb!heeseung x fem!reader

content / warning. fwb to lovers,angst, fluff, slightly toxic, mentions of alcohol + clubbing, suggestive scenes, childhood bestfriend themes, cockwarming, they’re both stupid. reader is way more dumber though (sorry), arguments, mentions of jay, jake (enhypen), beomgyu (txt), yunjin (lesserafim), ryujin (itzy), hee smokes once in one scene, slight manipilation + guilt-tripping, unprotected p in v , mutual masturbation, titplay, fingering, jerking off.

w.c. 16.8k

now playing. available - justin biebier, i like u - niki

“Keep me warm, yeah?”

His room is dim except for the glow of the monitor, the soft clicking of buttons filling the space.

You’re straddling him like it’s nothing new—because it isn’t. It is also not unusual for him to be deep inside you while you’re at it.

Heeseung barely reacts at first, eyes still locked onto the screen, fingers moving like you’re not literally sitting in his lap.

“Hee..” You whine, hips grinding involuntarily despite his words earlier telling you not to move.

“Hold on,” he mutters, focused. “One round.”

You tilt your head, watching him instead of the game, how can this man act normally when he’s so deep inside you?

“‘One round’ like the last three times?”

No answer—just a quiet hm under his breath when something doesn’t distract him.

He felt you clench around him making him exhales sharply, dropping his head back against the chair.

“Fuck—Y/N, baby, stop that, I won’t last.” He groans againts your temple. You can’t help it, the stretch was so good and you can literally feel every vein of his.

You give up, groaning softly as you relax and rest your cheek on his chest while he whistles in victory.

“Good girl, we just did it an hour ago. Just relax on me while I game, yeah?” He huff while his fingers work on the keyboard, turning his head slightly to mouth your temple.

“You got the text about Jay’s birthday party?” You ask suddenly, in which he hums. “Tonight,”

“Get dressed, we’ll go together.” His legs moved the chair to give you space to get up, he pats your hip.

Your thighs shake as you got up, his now-soft length pulls out. He let out a groan.

The sudden wave of cold air hitting your bare privates made the both of you wince and hiss, before looking into each other’s eyes with a soft laugh.

“You still have that outfit in my closet—from two nights ago,” he says. “Go put it on.”

You blink, trying to place which one he means.

“The black one,” he adds, a slow smirk forming. “The one I like, though it was so hard to take off.”

Once you’re both ready, the room feels different—like everything that was chaotic before has been tightened into something deliberate.

Your hair is pulled up neatly, a few soft strands framing your face, and your makeup is done just right—clean, sharp, but still natural enough to make it look effortless. You catch your reflection and adjust your outfit one last time, smoothing it down even though it doesn’t need it.

When you step out, Heeseung looks up—and actually pauses for a second.

Not dramatic. Just… still.

His eyes scan you slowly, like he’s making sure he’s seeing it right.

“…yeah,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than you.

You raise a brow. “What?”

He shakes it off like he didn’t just stare a little too long.

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

But as you walk past him, he lightly taps your hip—casual, almost absentminded—but his hand lingers just long enough to make it feel intentional before he grabs his keys.

The air between you feels charged in that quiet, familiar way again.

Outside, the night is cooler. The streetlights glow faintly against the pavement as you both head to his car. He unlocks it and opens the passenger door for you without saying much, like it’s automatic by now.

Once you’re inside, he shuts the door and circles around to the driver’s side.

A moment later, he gets in, starts the engine, and finally glances at you properly again—like he’s still taking you in.

Then he looks away, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary.

The city lights smear across the windshield as the car moves through traffic, music from outside faint but still pulsing through the windows.

He drives like he always does—calm, one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely near the gear shift.

Too close. Always too close.

You glance at him once, then look away.

“Hey,” you say.

“Yeah?”

Your voice drops a little. “Remember. Not too touchy tonight. It’s better to have no contact at all.”

He doesn’t look at you right away. Just tilts his head slightly, like he’s considering it.

“I’m not too touchy,” he says after a beat.

You turn your head.

“Last time you literally—”

“I fixed your strap,” he interrupts smoothly, eyes still on the road.

You pause.

“That’s not—”

“It was falling. You don’t want to flash everyone in the club.”

You exhale, looking forward again, unimpressed. “That’s not the point, Hee. They gave me a suspecting look and it weirded me out. It’s uncomfortable.”

A short silence settles.

Then you add, quieter, “And don’t call me baby in front of them. Or any other stupid petnames you always do.”

That time, his fingers tap once on the steering wheel. Slow.

He glances at you briefly, then back to the road.

“…you’re serious.”

“They’re gonna question it. And! we’re not a couple.”

Another beat.

The car moves under green lights, steady. Then he says, almost casually, “You’re fine with everything else though?”

You don’t answer immediately.

Your grip tightens slightly in your lap.

“That’s not what I meant.”

He hums under his breath, like he doesn’t fully agree, but he doesn’t push it either.

Instead, he just nods once. “Alright.”

But the air in the car shifts anyway.

Being with him like this feels… normal. Almost annoyingly so. And when you have talks like these, reminding him about your rules, it’ll always ruin the mood a little.

Years of knowing each other—childhood friends first, then somewhere in college it blurred, then now in adulthood it’s become this unspoken thing neither of you really defines out loud.

It’s easier that way.

At least, that’s what everyone else thinks.

To your friend group, you’re just the two who are always together. The ones who naturally drift toward each other in every room, every gathering, every late-night decision.

No one questions it.

No one looks twice.

No one knows that almost after every hangout, you both head to his or your apartment—making each other feel good.

“It’s like they’re choosing a club so far away on purpose.” He clicks his tongue, looking at the Maps app.

You look at the scenery outside, the night sky, other cars passing by. You’re grateful he changed the topic.

Almost 20 minutes later, we’ve finally arived to an unfamiliar club, picked by Jay and the others.

Heeseung parked the car, cutting the engine and turning to look at you. He didn't make a move to let go of your hand, his grip still firm as he looked you over silently for a moment.

"You ready?" He asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips—an attempt at humor to hide the worry in his eyes. You nod, and both of you got out of the car and walked towards the entrance.

“No petnames, no touches.” You remind him.

Heeseung paused at that, his expression almost comically annoyed as he stared at you for a long moment. A low huff of breath left him as he ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath.

"Damnit." he said, the word low and almost petulant. "I was looking forward to you clinging to me all night like a damn koala."

“What are you talking about, you silly.” You flick his bicep, “I’m not your girlfriend and we’re not some—couple to be so…PDA-ish.”

Heeseung's smirk vanished instantly, replaced with something that looked dangerously close to hurt for half a second before he schooled his expression back into nonchalance. He rubbed the spot you flicked with an exaggerated wince.

"Ow." he muttered—too sharp to be just about the flick. "You're right. We're not."

A pause as he met your eyes again, his tone deliberately light: "Guess I'll have fun flirting with someone else then."

Heeseung didn't say anything as you scoffed at him, simply following you into the club. He kept his hands in his pockets now, keeping a comfortable distance between you as the other members came into view.

"About goddamn time." Jay's voice cut through the low thrum of music as he noticed you both, his usual smug smirk in place. "Almost thought you two were ditching."

“Who the hell choose the club? Why is it all the way downtown?” Heeseung grumbles as he took the glass Jake offered as soon as you both went to the group’s booth.

Your friends, the two guys and one more, Beomgyu and two girls, Yunjin and Ryujin is already there.

Yunjin smiles at the both of you before hugging you, talking about missing you the whole day even when she saw you two days ago during a hangout while Ryujin laughs.

Your friendgroup was formed during college, Heeseung was friends with Jay and Jake first, and then later on was introduced to Beomgyu which knew Yunjin and Ryujin.

Heeseung introduced all of them to you, he knew you’re someone reserved and doesn’t need to be in big friendgroups to have a great college life, and you’re content with just having Heeseung as your bestfriend.

However, he promised you these people are worth to be friends with. Real people with real feelings. No drama—just a couple of friends who are always up to weekend getaways and party nights.

Sitting beside the girls, Heeseung sat a few meters away from you, his gaze darting over to you every now and then as the night went on. He was uncharacteristically quiet—only throwing out sarcastic comments now and again while the others chattered.

He was trying so hard not to look at you it was almost funny, his jaw still clenched, teeth grinding slightly.

However, you’re completely unaware how much you’re hurting him right now.

It was a little after a few hours of drinking that everyone was starting to get a bit tipsy. The others were all laughing and chatting, getting rowdier as the alcohol started to go to their heads.

Heeseung, however, remained sitting quietly in his corner of the booth, his gaze never straying far from you. His expression was almost brooding as he sipped at his beer—a stark contrast to the overall atmosphere of the group.

“Hey guys, the birthday boy has a suggestion!” Jake laughs as Jay stands up, clearly too tipsy for his well-being. “Alright, friends.”

He looks around, before turning to us again. “The single ones, tonight everyone needs to get laid.” The others are already chiming in with excited replies.

In the group, only Jake has a girlfriend, someone who’s not in our friendgroup. You saw her a few times during hangouts where he’d bring her but she’s not here tonight.

“Hell yes.” Yunjin cheers, “Gotta find someone to make out with tonight!” The others join, yelling about not wanting to go home tonight or, having their protections ready.

“Wait, so we’re seperating?” You ask and the group’s eyes turn back to you, a chorus of agreeing nods and reassurances greeting you.

“Duh,” Jay smirks. “It’s the perfect time to pick up some cuties, right, Heeseung?” He looks at the man who has been silent since the conversation started.

He looks at you, before looking away, “Yeah, plenty on the dance floor.”

Jake looks at you, “I’ll leave early then, what about you, Y/N?”

I turn to the girls. “Seriously?”

Ryujin shakes her head, gaze going to the crowded dance floor. “There are some fine ass guys here. No way I’m gonna glued to your side all night.” She laughs.

You groan at that, watching everyone slowly leaves the booth.

Everyone except one person.

Heeseung sets his drink on the table and smirks at you, voice soft but clear despite the loud music of the club.

“Guess that leaves just you and me, princess?” He murmur, leaning back againts the booth and spreading his arms across the back of the couch. “You’re gonna keep me company all night?”

“Heeseung, no petnames.”

Hisa smirk faltered for half a second—just long enough to betray the sting of your words. His jaw tightened as he pulled his arms back, resting them on the table instead.

"Right." he muttered, tone clipped. "Y/N."

The way he said it was too formal now—almost cold. He took another sip of beer before adding, "Guess I'll just sit here alone then since you don't want anything to do with me either."

You frown, “I didn’t say that.”

A scoff escaped Heeseung's lips at that—something between a huff of irritation and a laugh.

"Could've fooled me." He mutter, running a hand through his hair. "You've been keeping your distance all goddamn night, avoiding even looking at me."

“Well, the others are around. And that’s our rule?”

He rolled his eyes at that, a sharp scoff cutting through the air. His expression is hard, almost cold.

“Like they care, Y/N.” He replies sharply, “They’re grown adults and they know we’re friends since we’re ten. A little closeness wouldn’t make them go crazy.”

You sigh, “But—”

Heeseung cut you off with a sharp, frustrated gesture of his hand.

"But what?" he bit out, voice low and rough—almost pleading now. "You're acting like I'm some dirty secret. Like this is something to be ashamed of."

A pause as he ran a hand over his face before muttering: "Just tell me what the hell you want from me."

“…You know they make a big deal once there’s a couple in the friendgroup.” You look down.

Heeseung let out a dry, brittle laugh at that, almost bitter. "Yeah. Just like you make a big deal out of me saying goddamn petnames."

He leaned back in the booth, fixing you with a dark gaze. "What's it matter? Are you embarrassed of me or something?"

You look at him, “What? Of course not!”

Heeseung's jaw tightened at that, his grip on the beer bottle turning white-knuckled again. He stared at you for a long moment—silent, calculating.

"Then why?" he finally bit out, "You act like I'm some secret to hide. Like this isn't real."

A pause as he shook his head slightly. "Fuck it. Forget I said anything."

You stood up, taking his hand. “Whatever, let’s dance.”

Heeseung's eyes widened in surprise for a half-second. His gaze flickered down to where you held his hand, something like hope flickering across his face—almost too brief to catch. He let you pull him up from the booth, but his grip tightened on your hand as he looked at you, almost uncertain.

"You're not just doing this to shut me up, are you?" he asks, voice gruff.

You didn’t reply as you drag him. Heeseung let you lead him to the dancefloor, his eyes never leaving you as you moved through the crowd. The music was low and sensual—perfect for the kind of dancing that required touch.

He placed a hand on your hip—hesitating for a moment before pulling you flush against him, chest-to-chest. His hand stayed there, grip firm and possessive.

He lets out a soft hum, his hands moving slowly to feel your back. Your breath hitch, as your fronts kept brushing while you sway to the music.

But you can’t let anyone see this.

“Heeseung, I said dance—“ Your palms softly againts his chest to push him away. “Y/N, it’s just one dance.” He looks into your eyes, pleading now.

“No. Don’t be too close, Hee. The others are going to see.” You say, and that made him snap.

Heeseung exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration flashing across his face as he finally let go of your hip—hands raising in mock surrender.

"Fine." he bit out, stepping back just enough to put space between you two. His jaw was still clenched tight though, eyes burning with something unreadable. "You want distance? You got it. I’m done.”

He took another step back into the crowd—letting the bodies around them swallow him up until all you could see was a flash of dark hair and tense shoulders before he disappeared entirely.

You know you didn’t just pushed him away physically, but mentally as well.

“…Fuck.” You mutter to yourself as you try to get away from the crowd.

You wove your way through the people, trying to weave through the packed club. The music was loud and crowded—flashing lights and hot bodies everywhere.

You stumbled around another group of people, muttering under your breath as you tried to search for any sign of Heeseung. "Dammit." you cursed under your breath, "Where did that idiot disappear to…"

Your gaze flickered over the crowd—searching the sea of bodies for a familiar head of dark hair. You weaved through the people, cursing under your breath as each passing face proved just how hard it was to find someone in a club this packed.

"Damn it." you mutter again, frustration growing as the minutes ticked on. Where the hell was he?

You give up on searching and just sit back down on the empty large couch that was full with your friends earlier.

“Guess I’m the solo one tonight.” You sigh, taking a sip “By choice.”

And stupidity.

You slumped back into the booth, a sense of defeat washing over you as you realized how alone you were now. Everyone was off in pairs or in groups—and you were stranded in the booth on your own.

Your thoughts kept wandering back to Heeseung—the way he'd looked at you before he stormed off, the way his touch seared against your hips—but you pushed it aside, telling yourself to forget about him for now.

The feeling of being lonely in the club was something you were all too familiar with. Your friends were off with whoever they were hooking up with for the night, while you were left behind, alone in the booth like some third-wheel.

The sense of isolation was crushing. The music was too loud, the lights were too bright, and the people were too drunk. You felt completely alone in the chaos of it all.

However, usually Heeseung would come sit next to you, quickly coming out with conversations that’d make you forget being sad and laugh.

That’s how your best friend would usually come during times like these.

Yeah, your best friend.

Who also is your fuck-buddy. Who isn’t exclusively yours and you always try to stay aware of that fact.

The minutes ticked by like hours, and you sat there in the booth, nursing your drink as you watched the crowd around you. Everywhere you looked, people were dancing together, touching each other, having a good time…while you were stuck sitting there, alone. It was like a cruel reminder of how singled out you were in the club.

You pushed yourself up from the booth and made your way through the crowd, heading towards the washroom. Finally, some solitude.

You pushed the door open and slipped inside, the sound of the music muted now as the door swung shut behind you. The washroom was mercifully empty, and you let out a sigh of relief as you leaned against the sink.

You went out a few minutes after and you caught sight of a couple—pressed up against a wall, all over each other. The man's face was pressed against the woman's neck as they kissed, hands roaming over each other and—wait.

His face was familiar, even from this distance. You recognized that face. Heeseung?

Your best friend?

“…Wow.” You mutter softly to yourself as you walk away.

It was definitely him. There was no mistaking that face—the sharp jawline, the dark eyes, the defined features. That was unmistakably Heeseung. He was making out with some random girl in the corner.

Your stomach churned with something you refused to identify as jealousy. You looked away, trying to push down the bitter feeling in your chest.

“I deserved this. I was pushing him away all night.” You sigh as you slumped back into the booth, your earlier frustration giving way to something heavier—something that felt a lot like regret.

The club was still loud, still chaotic around you, but it all faded into background noise as you replayed every stupid thing you'd said to Heeseung in your head.

“Fuck."you muttered under your breath, "I really messed this up."

The bitter taste of the drink on your tongue did nothing to distract from the gnawing guilt in your chest.

You sat in the booth for what felt like ages, wallowing in the realization that it was entirely your fault. You'd spent all night pushing Heeseung away—reacting coldly to his touch, distancing yourself from him as much as possible. And now look where that got you.

Alone in the booth…while he was making out with some girl in a corner. It was almost pathetic how much it hurt.

The image of him, kissing some random girl in the corner, was stuck in your head like a broken record. You couldn't stop thinking about it—replaying it over and over like some kind of sick punishment.

The guilt was eating you up inside, twisting your stomach in knots. You'd been so hellbent on keeping Heeseung at arm's length, and now look where it got you.

He was off making out with someone else while you sat alone in the booth like a goddamn idiot.

“His dick was literally in me hours ago.”

Your own words hit you like a punch to the gut, sharp and brutal. The realization that someone else was probably getting her hands on him now—after he’d been buried inside you—made your stomach twist violently.

You have always been in love with him. Like—how can you not? But in college, you both agreed only to have sex, feel good, and that’s it. Other than that? He’s your best friend.

The lines were blurry sometimes? But Heeseung’s careless. You need to be the one who’s keeping the both of you in check. Reminding it’s all casual.

Or is it?

"Fuck.” You dropped your head into your hands, nails digging into your scalp as if it could physically tear the thought out of you. "I really am an idiot."

The thought of him touching her the way he’d touched you—hands sliding over skin, lips pressed to throat, voice rough in her ear—made your chest burn with something dangerously close to rage. And worse? The fact that he probably didn’t even give a shit about what you wanted anymore.

"I did this."you muttered into your palms, "I fucking pushed him until there was nothing left for me."

A bitter laugh escaped you as the truth settled in like poison: “Guess I got exactly what I asked for."

Your fingers fumbled slightly as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through the app with stiff movements. The club lights were too bright now—too loud, too much.

"Cab in 5 minutes," you muttered to yourself, shoving the phone back into your pocket. You didn’t even bother looking for anyone else in the group—let them stay gone.

The thought of Heeseung stumbling back to an empty booth later crossed your mind…but you crushed it underfoot as you grabbed your jacket and stood up.

You walked towards the exit, shoulders slumped and head down. The cool air of the night enveloped you, like a cold slap to the face—grounding you in a way the stuffy air of the club couldn't. You shoved your hands in your pockets, jaw clenched as you stood outside, waiting for the cab.

The wait felt endless, each second like torture as your thoughts spiraled. You couldn't stop thinking about the look on Heeseung's face when you'd pushed him away—the flash of disappointment, mixed with frustration.

What an idiot you were. You'd had it all, right there, and you let it slip through your fingers like it meant nothing. The guilt gnawed at your stomach, sharp and bitter.

Your thoughts were a mess of images—Heeseung, his touch, the way his voice sounded when he'd said your name.

A bright light suddenly cut through the dark night, jolting you out of your thoughts as a cab pulled up in front of you. The driver called out, asking for a location. You hesitated for a moment, your gaze flicking back towards the entrance of the club—as if for some kind of sign.

But there was nothing waiting for you there. Just the loud music and the flashing lights of the club.

You took a deep breath, pushing aside the ache in your heart as you gave the driver your address.

The cab ride was long—longer than it normally would have felt. You watched the city pass by outside the window—all the people on the street, all the bright lights, all the couples laughing and touching each other. Everything that was out of reach for you now.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, making you jump a little. You fumbled for a moment, clumsily pulling it out and tapping the screen awake. The sudden light of the screen stung your eyes—blindingly bright after the darkness of the cab.

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the name on the screen. It was a text from Heeseung.

hee: where the hell are you?

You stare at the message, your heart pounding. Your thumb hover over it, half-tempted to ignore it all together. But damn it, you can’t resist. You type your reply.

you: on my way home.

The reply was almost instant. Your heart gave another painful squeeze, but you couldn't help the little flicker of hope that flared in your chest. Goddamn it all.

hee: alone??

you: everyone’s busy. don’t wanna disturb.

The reply was slower this time—as if he was debating his response. The 'typing' dots appeared and disappeared a few times before Heeseung finally sent the message. You stared at the screen, almost holding your breath as you waited for his next text.

hee: can i call?

you: the driver is a woman, you don’t have to.

Another pause, and then the call notification flashed across your screen. You hesitated for only a moment more before accepting. You put the phone to your ear, heart in your throat.

Heeseung's voice came through the line, low and hoarse. God, those damn chills it sent down your spine should be illegal.

"You left." he said, a note of something almost like hurt edging into the words. It was so subtle, you almost missed it.

“Said you don’t have to call, I’m safe.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, as if Heeseung was debating whether to say something or not. When he finally spoke again, the words came out sharp and frustrated.

"Damnit, I don't care if you're safe." he muttered, his voice laced with something like irritation and something else you couldn't quite name. "That's not the goddamn point."

You frown, “You don’t care..?”

He sighed, and it came out more like a ragged huff. "I didn't mean it like that, goddamn it. You just—" He broke off, his tone taking on a frustrated edge as he continued.

"You left without saying anything. Didn't even send a goddamn text. Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

“…You were busy.”

There was an incredulous sound on the other end of the line—like Heeseung had just rolled his eyes or something. When he spoke again, there was a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"So? That doesn't matter. I'd never be too busy for you." he grumbled, a note of something like annoyance—or was that hurt?—coloring his words.

"You know that. You could've at least let me know you were leaving. You just disappeared, without a goddamn word."

“Well? With the way I’m alone the whole time and everyone is sucking other people’s lips? Of course.”

Heeseung's response came almost immediately, sharp and biting—a hint of something almost like anger in his voice now.

“You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to spend the night like that? You're the one who kept pushing me away all night. What the hell did you expect." he snapped, the words coming out harsh and frustrated.

"You were so goddamn cold all night—did you really expect me not to go find someone else to keep me distracted?"

“I told you we have to be discreet—“

Heeseung cut you off before you could finish, his voice rising as irritation flared in his tone.

"Yeah, I know. You told me. But damn, was it so goddamn hard to give me a bit of attention? Even a little touch? You acted like you didn't want me near you at all. What the hell was I supposed to do?"

He was definitely angry now—the words coming out harsh and sharp. You could hear him breathing heavily on the other end of the line, like he was trying to control his own emotions.

"You wanted me to act like a friend? That's what you wanted? To push me away anytime I tried to get close? To act like we're nothing more than friends? Fine, I did what you wanted. I acted like I didn't care. Like you don't mean anything to me. That's the whole damn point, isn't it?"

His voice dropped dangerously low at that, sharp and bitter.

"You think I don't know what you want? You think I don’t see it?" A rough exhale came through the phone—almost a growl. “I just spent half the night watching you act like you didn’t even want me to breathe in your direction. So yeah. Maybe I got tired of playing by your goddamn rules."

A pause as his tone shifted slightly—something almost wounded seeping into his next words:

"But sure. Let's pretend this is all on me."

You were speechless, the words cutting into you like a damn knife. Because as angry as he sounded, he wasn't even wrong.

You'd given him the cold shoulder all night, pushing him away again and again—and now you were going to act offended when he went and found someone else to give him the attention you refused him? It was a gut-wrenching realization.

His breathing was ragged on the other end of the line—like he was struggling to keep his voice even. When he finally spoke again, it came out low and rough.

“You really don't get it, do you?" A bitter chuckle. "I didn’t go with her because I wanted to. I did it because you kept pushing me away until there wasn't a goddamn thing left for me."

A sharp inhale—almost pained. "But yeah. Sure. Let's act like this is all my fault."

You sigh, “It’s not your fault, Hee—”

He huffed, the sound sharp and bitter.

"Damn straight it's not my fault. It's yours. You're the one who wanted to keep this a goddamn secret. You're the one who wanted to act like we were just friends."

He let out a low scoff. "Don't get pissed at me for finding someone who wanted to give me the attention you refused to."

The words stung, more brutally than you wanted to admit. Because part of you knew he was right. You'd been the one to set the rules—set the boundaries.

You'd pushed him away every time he got close, every time he touched you, every time he got too intimate.

And now you had the audacity to get pissed off when he finally got tired of the game and found someone else? It was a bitter pill to swallow.

In public, the only time you want to be all touchy feely with someone is when it’s exclusive. When it’s established. Not some hookup, or a fuck-buddy. Even when it’s your best friend. Even when it’s Heeseung.

You start to feel your tension increase as well, “Is this why you called? To bitch at me?”

His huff of irritation was almost a snarl. "No. I called because I was goddamn worried. But then you started this bullshit. You really gonna act like you're the victim here?" He scoffed, his voice taking on a bitter edge. "You've been cold all night, pushing me away every time I tried to touch you. You can't blame me for finding someone else to give me some goddamn affection."

The words felt like a punch to your gut. Because goddamn it, how did this get twisted so much? Hadn't you been trying to do the right thing? To keep things casual, to keep things secret?

But now it felt like you were the bad guy. The one who drove him into another girl's arms. The guilt twisted in your chest, the realization that your rules had backfired coming down on you like a ton of bricks.

“It was mutually agreed in the first place, we keep it from our friends.” You say, tone no nonsense.

He cut you off with a sharp, frustrated sound—almost like he couldn't even believe what he was hearing.

"You really don’t get it. Do you?" His voice dropped to something low and rough—dangerous. "I don’t give a shit about the secret. I care that you act like I'm some dirty little mistake even when we're alone."

A pause as his breathing hitched slightly. "So yeah. Maybe I went looking for someone who won't make me feel like garbage.”

Once he noticed the silence on your end of the line, and he let out a dry laugh—the sound sharp and almost cruel.

"What? Nothing to say now? No explanation for why you've been treating me like I don't even exist all goddamn night?" he muttered, the frustration and hurt coming through in his tone. "Go ahead. Say something. Tell me this isn't all on me. You know you want to."

You were done, you didn’t want to talk anymore as you feel your emotions are starting to get over you, “Don’t you have a girl waiting for you? Hang up.”

Heeseung's laugh this time was bitter—almost angry. He was getting pissed now—angry at you, at the whole damn situation, at himself for even caring so much.

He wanted to snap back, to say something cutting and cruel—to hurt you as much as you hurt him. But instead, he forced himself to take a deep breath, his voice coming out low and hoarse

"Yeah. I do have a girl waiting for me. So why the hell am I even still talking to you?" he muttered, irritation edging into the words.

“Don’t be surprised when I’m not there to wait for you anymore. With the others around or not.”

That was the last thing he said before hanging up.

The tears stung in your eyes as the dial tone cut through the air, the silence in the cab suddenly feeling heavy and oppressive.

You tried to push away the feeling of guilt twisting in your gut, the realization that all of this was your damn fault hitting you like a ton of bricks.

You'd pushed him away, pushed him to look for comfort elsewhere, and now he'd gone and found it. In someone else's arms, someone who was probably giving him the affection you refused to give him all night.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. Heeseung was right—you hadn't even given him a goddamn explanation for treating him like a dirty secret. You'd just expected him to accept it, to put up with being treated like a mistake you couldn't let anyone find about.

But he wasn't just some goddamn mistake. He was your best goddamn friend, the one person who mattered more to you than anyone else.

And you were treating him like he was nothing more than a dirty little secret to be kept hidden away in the shadows. How goddamn stupid were you?

The tears came even harder now—hot and fast, the weight of guilt and regret crashing over you like a goddamn wave. You'd messed up. And not just a little bit—you'd royally screwed up. You'd pushed away the one person who meant more to you than anything else—all because of your stupid fear of people finding out.

So there you were, sitting in the backseat of a damn cab, crying like a fool over the man you'd driven into another girl's arms.

The image of him with that other girl burned in your mind—his hands touching her like they should've been touching you, his head bent close to hers like it should've been bent down to whisper in your ear instead.

You wanted to scream, to turn back time and undo every goddamn stupid choice that led to this moment. Because right now, all you wanted was for him to be there with you—not in someone else's arms.

The last few days had been hell. The image of Heeseung with that other girl kept replaying in your damn head like a broken record—the guilt twisting in your gut every time you thought about it.

You'd tried to keep yourself occupied, to throw yourself into work, into anything that would get your mind off of him. But no matter what you did, all you could think about was him. His smile, his laugh, the sound of his voice, the way his hands felt against your skin.

You stayed away from the friend group as best as you could, giving excuse after excuse about why you couldn't hang out.

"I've got meetings this week." "There's a new project I'm helping out on." "Sorry, I can't come out tonight—I'm too swamped with paperwork." A hundred different bullshit reasons, all avoiding the goddamn truth.

The days bled together—same excuses, same routine. You’d show up to the hospital early, leave late, avoid any group texts with a million replies you didn’t have energy for.

And if anyone noticed how quiet you'd gotten? How your eyes kept darting toward the door like some part of you was still waiting for him?

No one called it out.

At least until Yunjin herself comes to your workplace, bringing you out for a lunch break.

She appeared in the doorway of your office, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. The look on her face was a mix of concern and stubbornness—the kind that said she wasn't leaving without you.

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" she demanded, "You've been dodging us for days. And don't even try to feed me that 'workload' bullshit—I know damn well you're not scheduled for anything, I’m literally in a department next to yours."

Her gaze softened slightly as she took in your tired expression. "C'mon, Y/N. Let's go eat something before I drag you out by force."

You felt like passing out. You can’t believe Yunjin Huh—the manager of the HR department, going all the way to the Finance department for something as personal as a friendgroup problem during working hours.

You continue looking at your computer screen because there’s just no way.

Yunjin scoffed, her arms dropping to her sides as she shot you a look that said "seriously?" She rolled her eyes and pushed off the doorframe, striding into your office without a care for personal space.

"Alright, that's it. No bullshit excuses. You're coming with me, even if I have to drag you out by the ear." she said, her voice leaving no room for argument.

“How the hell did you get in here without work business?” You question, looking at her.

Yunjin shrugged, a sly smirk crossing her face. "Please. I’m the boss’s favourite" she jokes.

She paused, taking in your tired, distracted state. Her expression softened slightly—almost like she knew exactly what was going on. “And stop trying to change the subject. You're coming with me. Period."

Yunjin led the way to the cafe, her expression determined. The cafe was packed with hospital staff, the place buzzing with the usual lunchtime rush. She weaved her way through the crowd effortlessly, finding an empty table near the window.

She plopped into the chair across from you, her eyes scanning your face intently. "Okay. Spill. What the hell is going on? And don't give me any of that bullshit."

You sigh as you lean back.

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, watching you closely as you sighed.

She knew something was up—your expression, your demeanor, the fact that you'd been avoiding the friend group like the damn plague. She leaned forward, her voice softening slightly.

“C'mon, Y/N. You can tell me. You know that. Is this about Heeseung?"

Your gaze snap at her. “How..”

Yunjin rolled her eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Don't act surprised, okay? You two aren't exactly subtle."

Her gaze softened as she took in your expression—the way your eyes flicked away, the way you avoided looking directly at her, the guilt etched into every line on your face.

"Besides, you've been avoiding the friend group for like, a week now. We're not idiots, you know."

You keep quiet. Not knowing what to answer to that.

Yunjin sighed, her expression softening further as she reached across the table and touched your hand.

Her touch was light, but it was grounding—a reminder that she was there, that she cared.

“Hey. Talk to me. What happened between you and Heeseung?“

You look at her. And then your hands together.

“We’ve been sleeping together…all this time.” You reveal to her.

Yunjin's eyes widened at your confession. She hadn't been expecting such a blunt answer—or such blunt words—and it took her a moment to process what you'd said.

But she was a smart girl, and it didn't take her long to fit the pieces together.

The late nights, the secret text messages, the tension between you and Heeseung… It all made sense now. She leaned back in her chair, her expression a mix of surprise and understanding.

"You've been hooking up the whole time? Since when?”

“Final year.“ You nodded. “And..we didn’t plan on telling you guys because, it was physical. We’re best friends. That’s all. Nothing exclusive.”

Yunjin let out a slow breath, her gaze never leaving yours.

The cafe noise faded into background static as she studied your face—the exhaustion in your eyes, the tension in your jaw. “Y/N.” Her voice was quieter now—less teasing, more serious.

"You don't get to call something 'physical' when you're crying over it for days straight."

A pause as she leaned forward slightly, “So tell me. What's really going on?"

You hesitate before answering.

“I made rules when we were still hooking up, to never show it when you guys are around. But, I was so anxious that you’re gonna caught us, so I just decided to push him away all together. Acting like if he’s too close I’ll burn.” You chuckle, but it didn’t reach my eyes.

“I know what we had was casual, and strictly no feelings involved. We were friends the longest in the friendgroup, so I never wanted to ruin that. And…” You look down, your free hand fumbling.

“And?” Yunjin urges.

“And I freaking like him. I’m in love with him. I think I already did during highschool. And now with intimacy involved? It’s…insane.”

Yunjin nodded—like she'd already guessed as much.

She'd seen the way you looked at Heeseung, seen the chemistry between the two of you. It was obvious to anyone with eyes.

"And he likes you, idiot. Any moron could see that."

Your eyes went to her, before shaking your head.

“Even if that’s true, we still did everything out of order. In what world that can work? And what will the others think?

She snorted, reaching across the table to flick your forehead lightly. "Who cares about 'order'? Since when do you give a shit about what anyone thinks?"

She leaned in, her voice lowering as she fixed you with a dead-serious look. "Heeseung's been obsessed with you for years. And yeah—maybe it started as casual. But that doesn't mean it can't be something more."

A smirk tugged at her lips. "Unless you're too chicken to try."

You huff, “Yunjin, I’m serious!”

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk growing wider. She was enjoying this a bit too much now—the way your face got all worked up, the way you tried so damn hard to be calm and composed…

She leaned in, resting her chin on her hand—still smirking like a smartass. "Yeah? Then what's the problem? If you like each other, just be together. Seems like a no-brainer to me."

“…And if we don’t work? I’m risking my best friend here.” Your lips tremble.

Yunjin's smirk vanished. Her expression shifted—suddenly serious, her eyes sharp as she studied you.

"That's bullshit and you know it." She pointed a finger at your face. "Heeseung isn't the type to throw away years of friendship over one messy breakup. And neither are you."

A pause as she crossed her arms, "But fine—if that's really what scares you? Then tell him how you feel before things go any further. No more hiding behind 'casual' crap when we both know damn well this is more than that for both of ya."

“Easier said than done.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated now. "Nothing worth doing ever is, idiot. This isn't a Disney movie where everything turns out perfect."

She leaned back in her chair, a sigh escaping her as she ran a hand through her hair. "Look—I get it. It's risky, it's scary…but you're not doing yourself any favor by keeping your mouth shut. You want Heeseung, right?"

You took a deep breath, before nodding.

Yunjin nodded too, her gaze steady on yours.

"Then you gotta take a damn chance" she said firmly.

"Tell him how you feel. Make it clear. Because if you don't, you'll be spending the next who-knows-how-long wondering 'what if' every goddamn time you see him with someone else."

You tilt your head in confusion, “You know about the girl?”

Yunjin rolled her eyes again, scoffing. "Of course I know. You think we're all blind, dumbass?"

She paused, her gaze still locked onto yours. "Heeseung's been weird all week—edgy, short-tempered. None of us are that stupid to not put two and two together. We've been friends with him just as long as you have, you know. We know when he's acting off."

She leaned forward again, her expression turning serious again.

“And even if none of us knew, we aren't blind enough to miss how you've been avoiding everyone like the goddamn plague. Do you have any idea how shitty it feels to see our friend, someone we care about, acting like we don't exist, just because they're too scared to talk about a boy?"

She shook her head, her voice tinged with frustration now. “So yes. I know about the girl. And it's pissing me off to see you let it go down this way."

“A boy who’s also in the same friendgroup as you and can literally make things awkward once we date each other.”

Yunjin rolled her eyes yet again, her expression going fond despite herself. “Regardless, he’s a friend who's head over heels for you. You really think we don't see it? The tension between the two of you? The looks, the stolen touches during hangouts, the way his eyes follow you around like some goddamn lost puppy…?"

She paused, shaking her head as she leaned back in her chair. “Hell, even the way he talks about you when you're not around…it's sickeningly sweet."

Your gaze drop again, “That night, we argued. After I push him away, he just stopped fighting back. We…we never really argued like that before, you know?”

Yunjin's expression softened as she took in your demeanor—the way you were avoiding her gaze, staring down at your hands like your whole damn world was falling apart.

She reached across the table, her voice quieter now, more gentle. "Hey… Look at me.”

"Arguing means you care." Her voice dropped lower—almost fierce now. “You think Jake and his girl never fight? They fight a lot during our hangouts, even sometimes she left without him. It’s hilarious.”

A pause as she leaned in closer, “But the next time we see them? They’re closer than ever.”

Yunjin's grip on your wrist tightened slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to make you look at her. Her expression was dead serious now.

"Listen to me." Her voice was low, firm.

"Heeseung is a goddamn idiot for letting things go that far with some random girl when it's you he wants. But if you're really this scared?"

She let out a slow breath before continuing,

"Then go talk to him before this gets any more messed up. Or I swear to god, I'll drag both of you into a closet and lock the door until one of ya says something real."

You chuckle, before shaking your head.

“No need, I’ll…try to call him today.” You smile at her, in which she smiled back.

Yunjin's smirk returned, sharp and victorious.

"Good. Because I will follow through on that threat."

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed—looking way too smug for someone who just basically blackmailed you into fixing your love life. "And if he picks up? Don't be a coward about it. Just say what you mean."

A pause as she pointed a warning finger at you, "Or I will find out…and then we're having another talk."

A few hours had passed since lunch, and the moon was up high in the sky when you finally worked up the courage—your finger hovering over the call button.

Heeseung's contact stared up at you from the screen, the profile picture a stupid picture of him making a funny face. As the phone rang, your heart thudded in your chest.

Each second felt like forever as the call rang once, twice…and then, finally—on the third ring, Heeseung's voice came through the other end of the line.

"Hello?" His voice was casual, almost distant, like he didn't have a clue what you were calling for.

“…Hi. It’s me.” You say quietly.

There was a pause, a beat of silence on his end—then his voice came through again, lower now, a tinge of hesitancy in the words.

"Hey." The single word was quiet, an uncertain exhale. It sounded like he couldn't tell if you were calling to talk or to yell at him again. The thought sent a pang through you—the same guilt you'd had ever since that goddamn argument with him.

You hummed.

Heeseung exhaled on the other end of the line, almost like he was bracing himself. "Spit it out. I know you didn't call just to say uhm."

His tone wasn’t harsh—just tired, a little rough around the edges. Like maybe he hadn't slept well since that night either.

“…Could you pick me up tonight after work? At 11.”

Heeseung went quiet for a moment, clearly surprised by your request.

You could almost hear his brain working, trying to guess what the hell you were up to.

But eventually, he sighed—a resigned sound, like he knew he was walking straight into your trap, whatever it was.

“Yeah, I can." The words came out with a hint of wariness, but it was clear he'd already made up his mind to do what you asked. “I'll be there."

“Thanks, see you, Hee.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line—almost like he was hesitating, wanting to say something before you hung up. But in the end, he didn't.

"See you." He replied, his voice gruff, before the line clicked to silence. You were left with the buzz of the phone in your hand and a churning guilt in your stomach.

A few hours passed as you finished your shift, the minutes ticking by excruciatingly slow as you tried to keep your mind off of the fact that you'd be seeing Heeseung again in less than an hour.

By the time the clock hit 11, your heart was in your throat, your hands shaking a bit walked out of the office building. You were exhausted, the long shift taking its toll on your body…but that was the least of the things on your mind right now.

Heeseung was already there when you walked out—standing outside the building, leaning against his car and lit cigarette in hand.

He looked…tired.

Almost like he'd had a damn long week too, dark circles under his eyes. But of course, being the goddamn handsome bastard he was, it didn't take away how good he looked.

He pushed off the car when he saw you approach, tossing the cigarette and crushing it under his foot.

“Real nice. Smoking in front of a working civilian? Told ya to quit.”

He scoffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he opened the car door for you to get in.

The action was so damn effortless—it was so damn natural, the casual ease he had when he was around you. It made your heart twist a bit, but you pushed the thought away.

"What, gonna go all doctor and tell me the dangers of smoking now?" he said dryly, watching as you got in.

Heeseung walked around the car and got in the driver's seat, starting the engine and pulling out of the building’s parking lot.

For a few seconds, he was silent, staring out the windshield with the same stoic expression he always had.

The only difference was that damn tired look in his eyes, the slight heaviness in the air between you. And then—

"So." He cut through the tense silence, his eyes flicking to you. "You gonna tell me why you wanted me to pick you up at the goddamn office?"

You leaned into his carseat, the familiar scent of his car calming you slightly, but not entirely.

“You always do.”

He rolled his eyes, a scoff leaving his lips as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. And of course that goddamn motion caught your eye, because damn it, those hands were so attractive.

But no. You weren't gonna get distracted by that tonight, no matter how many times the thought had plagued you in the last week.

“Stop avoiding the question, smartass." he said, his gaze glued to the road but his voice sharp.

I sighed. “I’m sorry, for acting stupid the other night.”

Heeseung's gaze flicked to you for a second before he focused back onto the road, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he replied.

There was a hint of something in his voice—like you'd just hit a damn nerve.

“That's all I get? Just an apology and nothing else?" His voice was low, rough around the edges. Like he was trying to hold himself back from saying something else, some damn emotion that was itching to come out.

Heeseung exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the steering wheel again—knuckles going white for a second before he forced himself to relax.

“You kept pushing me away like I was some goddamn mistake." The words came out rough, almost pained. "And then you got pissed when I went and found someone who didn't make me feel like garbage. That's what this is about."

A pause as he shot you a sideways glance, “So yeah. You were acting stupid."

You winced under the harsh words, the guilt in your gut twisting harder at the truth in the words. Because the worst part was, he was right.

You'd been a goddamn hypocrite, expecting him to wait around for you like some idiot while you pushed him away yourself.

But you weren't gonna admit that. Not right now, when he was acting like that.

So you forced yourself to scoff, crossing your arms over your chest defensively—trying to hide the damn guilt from him. From yourself. “That's a goddamn exaggeration and you know it. That’s why I’m apologising right now.”

Heeseung huffed in disbelief at your damn nonchalance, his eyes still fixed on the road in front of him.

But you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched, the way his fingers tightened on the steering wheel—he was trying goddamn hard to hold back his emotions, to keep his cool.

But he was failing. You could see it in the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw.

He was frustrated.

“Yeah, well…your apology sucks."

“…Want me to write a letter?”

A bitter laugh escaped his lips—short, sharp laugh that sounded more like a scoff. The sound sent a pang through you. Damn it, he really was frustrated.

“How 'bout an essay, smartass." He shot back with a mocking tilt to his lips. “With proper citations and everything."

You sigh, “Are you…still talking to that girl?”

Heeseung's grip on the steering wheel tightened for a split second—his jaw clenching as he shot you a sharp glance. The question clearly caught him off guard, and from the look in his eyes? He wasn't about to let that slide.

“That's what this is about?" His voice dropped lower, rougher. "You want to know if I'm still talking to her? After all that goddamn guilt-tripping?"

A bitter scoff left his lips before he added, "No. Not anymore.”

“I’m not guilt-tripping.” You try to say,

Heeseung scoffed at your denial, the sound harsh and disbelieving. Like you were being a goddamn idiot and he had no patience for it.

“Bullshit,"he said bluntly, his knuckles turning white around the steering wheel again.

"You say you're sorry for acting like an idiot, and then in the very next moment, you ask me about some other girl. That's textbook guilt-tripping."

He glanced at you again, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Or do you not think I can see straight through you?"

The silence in the car went on for a few seconds, the air thick with tension. You could've heard a damn pin drop.

Heeseung's irritation lingered, his jaw clenching as he gripped the steering wheel like he was fighting the urge to snap at you.

His fingers drummed an irritated rhythm against the wheel, like he was trying to burn off some of the anger with that small motion.

"Say something, goddamnit."

“…I didn’t want to tell the others about us not because I’m embarrassed of you.” You start,

“It’s..just complicated. We’re not dating. It’s casual. So why do we have to tell them? We don’t owe them anything.”

Heeseung's expression hardened at your words, the look in his eyes almost cold now. He didn't look at you as he spoke, his gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead, but his tone was sharp.

"Right. So it's casual." He huffed out a humorless laugh, the sound bitter. "And yet for some goddamn reason, you still get all jealous when I start talking to someone else."

“For the love of God, let me finish!” You huff, and it’s like the normal banter you always have again, except it’s nothing unserious.

Heeseung's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his jaw clenching as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

The car fell into a heavy silence for a second—just the hum of tires against pavement and your own damn heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"Fine." he finally bit out, still not looking at you. "Finish. But don't act surprised when I call bullshit on whatever excuse you're about to pull."

“…It was casual. But is it really? Even when we weren’t in bed, you’d still call me petnames.” You sigh,

Still make me meals, still stay the night, still drive me to and from work. I mean, you’re my best friend. But…I feel..something now.”

Heeseung's shoulders tensed as you spoke, his jaw clenching slightly as you listed off all the…coupley things he did for you.

It was like you were listing off every little thing he did to show you he cared, every way he proved he wasn't just some casual hook-up. And you were right, goddamnit—he did all of that. He always had.

There was a long, heavy silence, and then he forced out a quiet, "What do you feel?"

You look at you trembling hands, “Love.”

His breath stuttered for a split second, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel even more. The word hit him like a damn ton of bricks.

He'd been expecting some excuse, some stupid justification—some reason for why you felt something now.

But love? He almost couldn't believe his own goddamn ears.

He shot you a sharp, disbelieving look, like he was trying to see if you meant it. Like he was trying to see if this was just some cruel joke.

You take another deep breath, “Well-that's what I felt. At least,” looking outside the window.

“But I'm scared. Because we did everything out of order, and I'm not sure if we'll be okay. If-If we stopped, I'm not only gonna lose my boyfriend, but my best friend." You continue, voice slightly trembling now.

Heeseung went quiet, his expression softening slightly as he realized you were serious-as he saw the tremble in your voice, the fear on your face.

He wanted to tell you it would be okay. He wanted to pull you into his arms, to wrap you up in his embrace and soothe away the damn anxiety he heard in your words.

But he didn't. He took a deep breath, his shoulders tensing again as he gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline.

"..ls that the only reason you're telling me this now? Because you're scared of losing a friend?"

“You’re not just a friend, Hee. You’re basically my other half.” You confess,

A low, heavy sigh left Heeseung's lips at those words, and this time, his shoulders slumped slightly.

It was like all the frustrated tension finally left his body, leaving just the tired, worn-out weight of those words.

Hearing you say that...it did something to him. It made his heart clench, made his breathing get a little uneven.

He looked over at you then, the look on his face almost vulnerable. "...Your other half, huh?"

You nod, not trying to filter anything now.

“You’re my other half, someone who knows me the most— I don’t— I don’t think I can live normally again if we ever stopped being together, friends and all.”

His breath caught in his throat at that statement, his chest tightening painfully.

You were saying the words so damn casually, like you didn't realize the weight they carried for him. He had to force himself to breathe, to speak past the sudden emotional lump in his throat.

His voice was a little hoarse when he finally managed to grit out a question. "And you're just telling me this now? After a whole goddamn week of avoiding each other? After years of dragging it as some hookup?”

You keep quiet, silenced.

“That’s a question, Y/N.” He bite out.

“I’m sorry.”

Your apologies are like a broken record by now, as he let out a bitter laugh.

“You’ve said that.”

“But it’s the truth! I’m sorry I hurt you because I know I did, and I wasn’t acting my feelings for years straight.”

He let out a sharp exhaled at your words, his jaw clenching as he tried to swallow back the mix of irritation and...hope that flared in him at your confession.

The mix of emotions was getting to be too damn much. He was tired, he was frustrated, and he was tired of the games.

He glanced over at you-and dammit if you didn't look like you meant it.

And Heeseung, damn his bleeding heart, couldn't deny that look in your eyes. He let out a low, exasperated sigh.

"You goddamn idiot." He said, his voice gruff.

"Do you have any idea how pissed I was? How goddamn frustrated l've been all week? I didn't know if you just regretted it, if you thought I was some stupid mistake, if...if I meant anything to you."

The words left his lips before he could stop them, a hint of vulnerability in the tone.

He was being damn honest for once, letting some of the emotional mess swirling around in his head spill out in front of you like that.

And you didn’t even realize you’ve arrived to your complex. But he didn’t ask you to leave yet, he just parked his car and switched off the engine, the sudden silence in the car suddenly deafening.

For a moment, both of you just sat there, the tension in the air almost stifling.

Then, he looks over to you. His expressions are unreadable.

“We’re here.” he said simply, like it was some kind of warning.

A warning that this conversation was about to continue, and there was no avoiding it.

“You were never, ever a mistake to me.” You look into his eyes.

Heeseung's breath hitched at your words, the honest admission sending a pang through his heart.

He'd been going back and forth between annoyance and irritation all goddamn week-trying to convince himself you just regretted the hookup, trying to ignore the fact that he still wanted you.

Hearing you say that, hearing that quiet honesty in your voice—it made it hard to hold onto the irritation.

It made him feel guilty for doubting you in the first place but damn it, he was still angry.

He stared at you for a long moment—your expression, the way your hands were fidgeting in your lap.

The vulnerability in it all made his chest ache. He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand over his face like he was trying to physically push back the damn emotions clogging up his throat.

"I know that now," he finally muttered, "But it took you avoiding me and acting like I didn't exist for a week to say that shit."

A pause as he turn fully towards you now.

“You don’t get to keep pushing me away and then act like that when I go looking elsewhere.”

“I’m not going to push you away anymore.”

His breath caught in his chest at your quiet admission, the raw sincerity of it making something inside him ache.

He was still pissed—still frustrated beyond belief but the confession did soften the edges.

“Good,” He says gruffly. “Because you’re not going to dismiss my feelings, not again.”

That made you look at him, “What do you feel?”

He froze at your sudden question, his heart leaping in his chest. The look in your eyes was damn intent, leaving no room for bullshit.

You were asking him what he felt-for real this time, not some half-ass excuse or half-true

response.

He clenched his jaw, conflicted. He wanted to be honest. He wanted to tell you exactly how he felt.

But part of him was still pissed, still frustrated by that week of avoiding each other, and he wanted to make you hurt just a little bit, too.

Gosh he’s so petty.

“What do I feel? I’m pissed. Hella freaking pissed,” he bit out at first—zero hesitation, "Because you made me think I wasn't shit to you. That all of this"—a sharp gesture between the two of you—"was just some goddamn mistake."

A pause as he swallowed hard, his voice dropping lower.

"But I also feel like a damn idiot for caring this much when we never even called it what it was."

The sight of you wincing at his bitter confession made something in Heeseung ache, but he didn't let that stop him from speaking.

He'd been keeping this all bottled up for a week, and damn it, it was time for you to hear what that felt like.

He continued, the words falling out like a damn train wreck.

"You have any idea how much of an idiot I've been this past week? | thought you were ashamed of me. Like I was some kind of regret."

There was a note of anger in his voice still, the frustration and hurt of the past week coming out in sharp breaths as he continued.

"I was trying to keep my distance, trying to forget you. But you have no goddamn idea how that felt when I was lying in my bed every damn night, and all I could think of was you."

He took a sharp inhale, his throat tight with emotion. "I'm tired of being the one who cares, damn it."

You retort immediately, “I care too!”

"Then damn it, why didn't you act like it?" He huffed out bitterly, his irritation and frustration getting the best of him. He was angry, so goddamn angry, but the hurt in his voice was undeniable.

"All you did was push me away. You acted cold, you avoided me, you never gave me a straight answer about us! You made me doubt everything we had! So excuse me if I thought you were ashamed!"

“It’s because I’m fucking scared, Hee.”

His shoulders tensed at that sudden outburst,

the raw emotion in your voice finally getting through his walls of anger-piercing through to the vulnerable thing beneath.

He felt that confession down to the very bone-and it only made His own guilt claw at his conscience.

But he was still angry, still hurt, and he needed you to understand why. "Scared of what?" he snapped, voice slowly rising.

"That maybe I'm ruining things with someone who probably know me the best out of everyone!” You snap, “that I'm ruining my friendship with someone I always wanted to be with!"

He felt those words like a punch to the gut. It was like you were saying everything that'd crossed his mind in the past week, and damn if it didn't hurt like hell.

A part of him, the soft part that loved you with all the damn intensity of the sun, wanted to pull you into his arms and soothe your fears.

But the part of him that was still hurt and angry kept him holding back.

"If you were so scared, then why did you let it get this far?” He yell.

“Stop yelling!”

"I'll stop yelling when you start making some goddamn sense!" He fired back, his voice rising again as he struggled to rein in his emotions.

Goddamn it, he knew he was being unreasonably loud, but he couldn't help it.

He was struggling to hold back the mix of anger, hurt, and goddamn affection swirling through him at the sight of you, vulnerable and so damn familiar.

"You can't just avoid me for a week, act distant and cold, and expect me not to be pissed!"

You never heard him scream at you like this, at it scared you.

Your best friend, who’s smug and stupid at time— but always so soft-spoken. That’s one of a million things you loved about him.

The way he speaks— like he’s scared if he’s too loud or too harsh you’ll fade away.

But right now? All of that is out of the window.

Rightfully so, he’s hurt. You hurt him.

And nothing scares you more that hurting the one person you cared the most.

“Please,” you tear up.

Holy fuck, are you crying?

You wanted to slap the shit out of yourself.

“Please don’t yell when I’m so fucking scared right now.”

Heeseung froze the moment he saw your tears, his entire body going rigid.

The anger drained from him in an instant-replaced by something far more visceral, something that made his chest tighten

painfully.

His hands dropped to his sides as he exhaled sharply through clenched teeth, like the fight was being punched out of him at once.

He looked…guilty now.

"Shit." he muttered under his breath before running a hand over his face, "I'm not yelling anymore."

He stayed quiet for a long moment, his jaw working as he fought to keep his own damn emotions in check.

The silence between you was thick with everything unspoken-anger, hurt, fear. But the way your voice had cracked on that last word made something in him cave.

Slowly, deliberately—he reached over and took one of your hands from where it was clenched into fists on your lap. His grip was firm but not tight, grounding.

“I’m not going to yell, I’m sorry.” he says softly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, the frustration and anger still simmering in his chest-but your quiet plea made him pause.

He wanted to yell, damn it. He needed you to understand how much he'd been hurting too.

"I'm not yelling," he muttered again gruffly-though the way he bit out each word was soft. "But I'm not just gonna sit here and pretend like this didn't fucking destroy me."

A pause as he swallowed hard, forcing himself to lower his voice further when he added, "You don't get to be scared of losing me when you're the one who pushed first."

You look at your hands together, “I don’t know how to do this, Hee.” You confess, “I’m going to mess up again, I’ve messed up, so I don’t…know how to do it,” you bite out, “But I know I want to be with you.”

His grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly as he stared at you—really looked at you—for the first time since this whole damn mess started.

"You don't get to say that," he muttered, but there was no real bite left in his words now. Just exhaustion.

A pause as he exhaled sharply, "But...if you really want this? Then we figure it out. Together."

“You mean everything to me,” you say. The tears never stopped.

At that quiet declaration, He felt his heart twist and some of the anger left draining from him ever further.

But he wanted you to be sure. He wasn’t going to accept this all sincerely and then watch you push him away again once your friends are in the room.

“Like hell I mean everything to you, after the shit—” He starts but you cut him off before he could even continue.

“I know I acted like shit recently, heck, maybe even months now. But before that?” You look into his eyes, “All the years before? When we were kids and the grandmas in the neighborhood always predicted we’d get married? Isn’t that obvious, you jerk?” If you weren’t then, now you are full on sobbing.

Heeseung felt something in his chest ache at those memories. Those years you spent growing up together. The elderly neighbors who'd always tease about how cute you were together, how sure they were that you'd end up getting married down the line.

Those damn memories were playing on repeat in his mind, and it only made him feel all more frustrated.

He bit back a scoff, shaking his head slightly as the words left him in a low mutter. "You still pushed me away for months, idiot."

“Well I’m a little stupid, sorry!”

He couldn't help but huff out a dry, humorless laugh.

Your blunt confession, just blurting out that you were sorry and stupid... it was so damn typical of you that he couldn't stay angry for much longer.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, shaking his head as he muttered, "You're more than a little stupid, you know that?" He smiles, and you sob harder.

He finally reaches out, taking both of your hands together now.

“Stop crying, you’re not a kid anymore.” He kisses your hands.

“I’m trying. But it kept pouring out.” You whine softly.

He felt his lips twitch at that whiny tone—so typical of you. Even in moments like this, you still manage to make him feel giddy.

He squeezed your hands tightly, “No more crying, baby.”

That was the last thing he says before guiding you to sit on his lap in the driver’s seat, pulling you against his chest.

You break again, like the comfort finally reaches you from the anxiety of this whole talk.

Heeseung let out a slow, tired breath as you practically collapsed into him-your sobs muffled against his chest.

The weight of your body against his, the way you clung to him like he was some damn lifeline...it made something in his heart twist painfully.

“You’re okay,” He kisses your temple. “I’m here, I got you.”

One of his hands tangles in your hair, playing with the strands as he feels you calm down.

He could feel a lot of things at once. The rise and fall of your chest against his, the press of your legs against his, the way you gripped his shirt tighter in your fists...it was maddening.

“I love you.” You mutter, lips pressing against his chest as you feel his beating heart.

He smiles, hearing you say that felt so good—especially after years doubting everything between you two.

He took a shaky breath, his arms tightening around you even as he muttered,

"I love you too, idiot."

“That’s not what you call me.”

He let out a low, amused huff at that— your sniffly protest was so adorable it made his chest ache. He pulled away slightly to cup your face in his hands, wiping away the lingering tears with rough thumbs.

“I love you, baby.” He smiles.

When he sees you cry again, he laughs and tuck your face into the crook of his neck-letting you soak his shirt with those damn tears.

“What am I going to do with you?” He chuckles in your hair.

Heeseung let you cry against him for God knows how long, just running his fingers through your hair and holding you close.

He'd always been a quiet and relatively patient person, but damn it if it didn't take everything in him to keep from falling to pieces at the feeling of you crying in his arms.

Eventually, though, he knew this needed to stop. He'd been putting off the hard conversation for far too long. So he pulled your face out of his neck, forcing you to look up at him with a gruff "Hey, look at me.”

Staring down at you for a long moment, he takes in your beautiful face despite the tears.

Your eyes were red and puffy, your cheeks flushed and wet. You looked so damn vulnerable, and it made his chest ache in a way that was almost too much to handle.

But he had to be the one to push through it this time. He knew you needed him to be the stronger one right now.

“I need you to listen and answer okay? Truthfully.”

Heeseung let go of your face, his hands dropping to your hips now, holding you tightly in place on his lap.

He didn't want you to look away-didn't want to lose your focus for even a second. He kept his gaze locked with yours, his expression unwaveringly serious.

The way you were looking back at him? So damn vulnerable and open, make his heart hurt like hell.

“Why’d you push me away, baby?” He asks, this time he wants a clear answer from you.

No more It’s because I’m stupid bullshit.

“Because…” You look at him, “It’s too much.” You pat your heart, “Right here. And I have this nagging voice that if I am beside you any more without letting it out, the wrong words are gonna come out." You wince.

"And then, I saw you kissing that girl."

"It was my fault of course, but...still hurt." You chuckle.

Heeseung listened in silence as the words spilled out of you. He still had you sitting in his lap, still holding onto you with a tight, almost possessive grip.

The sound of your voice was shaky, the confession making the ache in his chest intensify even more.

And then you had to go and bring up that innocent girl he used to numb whatever you two had going on?

He swallowed hard, clenching his jaw for a moment before replying, "That was nothing. You know that."

“Still, Hee.”

Heeseung exhaled sharply through his nose, "It was nothing," he repeated firmly, gripping your hips tighter as he stared at you with a hard expression.

“I kissed her because I was pissed off, I was confused as hell after the way we left things. I didn’t know where we stand, even if I was confident I loved you, It was still confusing.”

“You were hurt.”

He shakes his head. “I was, but I still acted like an asshole about it. I want you. Only you, but I still kissed her.”

A pause as he looked away briefly, clearly struggling with himself for a second before turning back to you with sharp eyes.

"But I don't want us to keep doing this shit—avoiding each other and pushing one another away just because we're scared of what might happen if things go wrong."

He brings his hand to cup your cheek as you lean in.

“We’re better than this, baby. We’re adults. We need to communicate, or none of this is ever going to work. You hear me?”

You give him soft nod. He searched for any hint of hesitation, and when he sees one? He let out a deep sigh.

“Good girl.” He smiles, “We’re going to tell each other everything from now on. No more pushing, no more running.”

“I want to be exclusive.” You say, out of nowhere. Thinking it was the best time to clarify.

He raised his eyebrows at that, “Yeah? Want me to be your boyfriend, princess? Say it again.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “You heard me, I’m gonna take it back—”

“Nope. You’re so not.” He laughs. "Not when I've been waiting to hear those damn words from you since we were goddamn ten years old, baby."

Huh?

Those words made you snap. You grab his face, and crush your lips together.

There was only a second of hesitation from him before he was kissing you back, his hand on your hip pulling you even closer as his lips crashed against yours.

There was something almost desperate to it, the months of hurt and longing and pent up emotions from the past week suddenly catching up to him now.

He kissed you hungrily, almost roughly, until finally pulling back slightly-gasping for air with your foreheads pressed together. His voice came out barely above a whisper:

"You're mine, got it?"

“And you?”

“All yours.” He smile and leaned down to kiss you again, his lips moving roughly against yours. This time a low, possessive sound left his chest-his tongue darting out to push past your lips with an almost feral need. He was claiming your mouth with his own, dominating without question.

When you both finally pull away, his breathing was labored, the hand on your face dropping to your hip once more in a tight grip.

He sees your expression, so honest and exhausted. But full, so full of love. Your eyes a bit hazy and dazed, like he can feel the tiredness all over you.

“Long day, yeah?”

You nod, and he chuckles. “Let’s get you inside.”

Heeseung kept a tight, protective grip on you as you got out of the car, his arm wrapping around your waist to steady you.

He could tell you were barely staying standing, and he was determined to get you inside and taken care of as quickly as possible.

Without another word, he closed the door and started leading you towards your complex, his eyes scanning the surroundings around you for any potential dangers.

Despite his usual nonchalant demeanor, there was a subtle protectiveness in the way he held you close to him—a determined edge to his expression.

The elevator ride up was short-lived, and soon enough they were stepping through the doors into your apartment.

He kept a steadying hand on your waist as you walked inside, guiding you towards your room.

Heeseung led you straight to your bed, carefully helping you sit down on the edge of it. His eyes roamed over you, taking in your exhausted state with a mixture of concern and affection.

The urge to get you comfortable and taken care of was practically overwhelming.

He gently tugged on your arm, his voice soft and gruff. "Lay down."

You obeyed, slowly laying back on the bed.

Something about the way you looked right now was so vulnerable, so damn soft, it was almost making his head spin.

But he pushed past the emotions swirling in his chest, determined to get you cared for first.

He knelt at the edge of the bed, his eyes scanning your face with a mix of concern and tenderness.

"I'll be right back, okay?Just gonna get something."

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before reluctantly letting go. Getting up, he moved across the room, rummaging through your drawers until he found some comfortable clothes for you.

He quickly grabbed a tank top and hoodie, along with some sweatpants, before making his way back over to the bed.

Kneeling beside the bed again, he looked down at you. "Sit up for a second."

He waited until you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, and then he started helping you out of your clothes.

His touch was gentle as he pulled your top off, his eyes roaming over your skin almost reverently.

He could see the weariness in your movements, and he worked quickly, but his fingers lingered against your skin with a tender touch. Once you were wearing the tank top, he offered you the hoodie next. He helped you into the hoodie, watching as the fabric swallowed you up.

The way you looked now—wearing his hoodie and looking so damn tired—was somehow unbearably endearing and it only made the protectiveness in his chest intensify.

But he kept his focus, helping you slide out of your pants and into the sweatpants next.

Throughout the entire process, his touch was careful and gentle, his eyes lingering on each piece of skin he exposed.

Once you were changed into the comfortable clothes, he helped you lay back down on the bed.

He pulled the covers up over your body, making sure you were properly tucked in and cozy. His eyes scanned your face for a moment, taking in how exhausted you looked once again.

He reached up and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his voice low and gruff.

"Go to sleep, okay? You're dead on your feet, baby."

You replied with a soft pat on the space beside you on the bed.

Heeseung couldn't help the small smile that pulled at his lips as you patted the space beside you, the wordless request obvious.

He knew you were asking him to stay. And damn it, if that wasn't one of his favorite things in the world.

He didn't hesitate, carefully climbing onto the bed next to you. His arm immediately went around your waist, pulling you closer until you were tucked against him.

He settled behind you, adjusting your bodies until you were cuddled against him, your back pressed against his chest.

He could feel the exhaustion coming off you in waves, and the feeling filled his chest with a mix of affection and concern.

He tightened his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer, almost possessively. He nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling the familiar scent.

His voice was quiet and gruff as he spoke, almost a whisper next to your ear. "Go to sleep, baby. I'll stay with you."

He continued to hold you close, his body molded against yours. He could feel the way your tired body relaxed into his embrace, the way you automatically shifted closer against him.

His hand on your waist began tracing slow, idle circles against your side, hoping the gentle touch would soothe you even more.

“I love you,” was the last thing you hear before drifting off to sleep.

Morning settles softly over the room, pale light slipping through the curtains and stretching across the bed where Heeseung wakes first, eyes blinking open slowly as the quiet replaces last night’s noise.

For a moment, he doesn’t move—just lies there, one arm still draped loosely around you, your head tucked against his shoulder, hair slightly undone from sleep.

There’s a faint crease on your cheek from the pillow, your breathing even, steady, like none of the tension from before followed you into the morning.

He shifts just enough to look at you properly, gaze lingering in a way he’d never admit out loud, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your arm before he exhales softly, like he’s trying not to disturb something fragile.

He feels you stir awake slowly, and register the warmth between the both of you.

Your lashes flutter open, adjusting to the soft morning light spilling through the curtains, and for a second you don’t move, still caught somewhere between sleep and awareness.

Then you realize where you are—how close you are—and your fingers instinctively curl slightly against his shirt.

“Hi,” he mutters, his smile soft and still heavy with sleep.

Up close, it’s different—quieter than anything he ever gives you when he’s fully awake. His eyes are half-lidded, hair slightly tousled, and there’s something unguarded in the way he looks at you, like he hasn’t had the chance to put his walls back up yet.

His thumb brushes faintly against your arm again, slow, absent, like he’s still halfway dreaming.

“You’re up early,” you murmur, voice still rough as you shift slightly against him, but not enough to pull away.

Heeseung lets out a quiet hum, the corner of his lips lifting just a little more.

“Could say the same about you.”

Neither of you moves after that.

The morning stretches between you, calm and fragile, like if either of you says the wrong thing, it’ll snap back into what you usually are.

“You should sleep more, you were so tired last night,” he suggests, his hand moves to your hip for a grounding grip.

“You should sleep more—you were so tired last night,” he murmurs, voice still low, still soft in that way he never lets it be during the day.

His hand slides from your arm to your hip, settling there like it belongs, fingers pressing lightly—just enough to keep you from drifting too far away.

The touch is grounding.

Steady.

You let out a small breath, barely noticeable, your body sinking a little more into the mattress despite yourself.

“I’m okay,” you mumble, though your voice betrays how heavy sleep still feels in your limbs.

Lee Heeseung huffs quietly, almost amused, his thumb brushing once against your side.

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

You shift slightly, your hand coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the slow, even rhythm beneath your palm.

For a second, neither of you says anything, the silence filled only by quiet breathing and the soft rustle of sheets.

Suddenly, he shifts closer, his head dipping into the crook of your neck, breath warm against your skin. His lips follow a moment later—slow, lingering, open-mouthed presses that make you inhale sharply, your fingers tightening slightly against his shirt.

It’s unhurried.

Sleepy, almost.

Like he’s not fully thinking—just acting on instinct, on familiarity.

His hand at your hip steadies you when you shift, thumb pressing lightly as he continues, each kiss softer than the last but no less intentional.

The quiet of the morning wraps around you both, broken only by the faint rustle of sheets and your uneven breathing.

You tilt your head just a little, giving him space without realizing it, and he exhales softly against your skin, like he notices.

You hum, while he continues mouthing at your collarbone.

“Hee, it’s—” you glance at the clock on the nightstand, squinting slightly, “9 in the morning,” you sigh.

He doesn’t pull away.

If anything, Heeseung just exhales softly against your neck, lips still brushing your skin in slow, unhurried presses, like the time doesn’t matter.

“Mm,” he hums, voice muffled.

His hand on your hip tightens just slightly when you shift, keeping you right where you are.

“I missed you, baby.” He nuzzle his nose against your jaw, trying to coax you into giving in.

Sly fox.

“I’m right here.” You smile.

“But I want to kiss you all over, make you feel good.” He murmur again, voice turning slightly whiny.

You let out a small laugh, which died as soon as he moves his hand to cup your clothed core.

“You’ll let me, right? You’ll let me love this sweet body of yours?”

He looks into your eyes, asking for permission.

“But breakfast…”

“It’s Saturday, baby. We can have breakfast at 2PM.” He whines.

You grin, before nodding.

Heeseung wasted no time in claiming the skin of your neck, his mouth and tongue working at your pulse point, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat once again.

The entire time, his hands roamed your body, pushing up the bottom of your hoodie and tanktop and slipping underneath to touch your overheated skin.

He practically groaned at the feeling of you, hot and pliant underneath him—he's been dying to touch you like this for days now.

His hands were rough as they groped your breasts, his fingers pinching and rolling the hardened peaks between them. His mouth left wet trails along your collarbone before latching onto one nipple—sucking hard through the fabric of your top.

"Fuck," he groaned against you, his hips grinding down instinctively, "You always taste so damn good."

A sharp nip to punctuate it—because he knew you liked that little sting.

You help him take off your clothes, hands trembling slightly.

Heeseung lifted his head at the sudden motion, staring at you hungrily as he watched you lift your shirt up.

"Good girl."he said, his eyes dark with intensity as he watched your movements."That's it. Show me."

His breath hitched as he took in the sight of you—bare, flushed, and already so damn needy for him. His gaze raked over your exposed skin like a starving man at a feast.

“Beautiful, my woman.”

Without another second of hesitation, his mouth descended on one peaked nipple—sucking hard while his fingers pinched the other between rough fingertips.

Heeseung's tongue flicked against the hardened peak as he sucked and swirled it around in his mouth. It wasn't enough, though. He nipped and lapped at your skin—his hand moving from your chest to your inner thigh.”

It was almost as if he was intent on memorizing every inch of your body with his touch, leaving no area unmarked by his lips and teeth.

“Mm, I could stay like this forever," he murmured, his words partially muffled against your skin.

His hand skimmed up your thigh, pushing up the hem of your pants. He pushed them down just far enough to bare your legs to his sight, and his mouth left your breast to press kisses along the soft skin.

"Lift your hips."

The order was said in a rough, lust-filled tone, and he didn't give you even a second to hesitate before hooking a finger into the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down your legs.

His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, now fully exposed before.

Heeseung practically growled as he took in the sight of you—bare, exposed, and so damn perfect.

His fingers dug into your hips for a second before sliding lower to grip the backs of your thighs, yanking you closer to him.

"You're already wet for me? I'm not holding back, baby.”

His hands were everywhere, touching you with a mixture of impatience and desperation. His mouth latched onto the soft skin of your neck, sucking and biting down on your pulse until he left a blossoming mark behind.

He wanted you, and he wanted you now.

"Can't wait to be inside of you," Heeseung hissed against your skin. “Can’t wait to love you until I’m milked dry.”

“Watch me touch myself first.”

Heeseung had to hold back a groan at your suggestion.

While his main goal right now was to be inside of you, the thought of watching you touch yourself right in front of him sounded almost sinful.

During your hookups, Heeseung was the one that take the lead but once in a while, you would gibe suggestions like these.

To try and experiment with each other, of course.

"Yeah? You wanna put on a show?" he teased, an eyebrow raised as he pulled away slightly to look at you. He already sounded breathless just from the thought of it—he was practically salivating for the sight.

Heeseung's expression darkened as he watched you, his eyes glued to the sight of your hands slowly moving over yourself.

Your smaller fingers rubbing your bundle of nerves, still sensitive after waking up.

He couldn't tear his gaze away for a second, as if he was a starving man staring at his prey. His own hands flexed against your thighs, pressing more firmly into the soft skin as he fought the urge to take over and touch you himself.

This was your show right now—not his. He had to be patient.

"So pretty," he murmured hoarsely, "All for me to watch." His eyes darkened even further. That tone of your voice, the way you looked right now... God, if you weren't careful, he was going to lose all self-control and take over again.

“Hee…Touch yourself too..”

He swallowed thickly, the sound almost audible to your ears. His breathing was already shaky, his voice strained as he replied.

"Yeah? You want me to touch myself for you, baby?” Heeseung's breath hitched as he watched you nod, his hands immediately moving to the waistband of his jeans.

His fingers fumbled slightly in his haste—he wasn't used to being this desperate for something so simple.

"You're lucky I'm weak for you."

With one rough yank, he pulled down just enough fabric to free himself—already hard and aching from watching you. His grip tightened around the base as a groan escaped him at the first touch.

He was going to die just watching you.

His chest was rising and falling heavily, and he could feel his self-control hanging on by a mere thread at this point.

He wanted to touch you, to be the one to touch you—but the sight of you touching yourself like this just for him was almost torturous.

"Mmm, look at me, baby." he commanded hoarsely."Want you to keep your eyes open while you do that for me."

Heeseung's grip on himself tightened painfully as he watched you slip your fingers inside, his breath hitching in response to the wet sound.

His eyes were practically glued to where you touched yourself—his entire body tensed with need.

"Fuck, that's it," he gritted out between clenched teeth, "Keep going just like that."

A rough thrust of his own hand matched yours instinctively—mimicking the rhythm you set for him.

You whine with need when you feel your own fingers aren’t enough to reach the places that can make you see stars.

Heeseung's hips jerked forward involuntarily, a strangled groan tearing from his throat as he watched you.

His knuckles whitened where they gripped himself-too close to the edge already just from watching you.

"Y/N," he warned lowly, "You keep making those sounds and I'm not gonna last." A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as he fought for control-his entire body coiled tight with desperation.

His head was swimming; the air felt like it was crackling with electricity. Every nerve was on fire, desperate for release.

He needed you, but there was something about watching you like this—so open, so vulnerable, so perfect—that he couldn't stop himself from prolonging his suffering.

"Sweetheart, I need to touch you..." he gasped out, a strangled plea on his lips. "Please..."

The moment you removed your fingers, giving him permission, he moved forward with an almost feral speed to grab you by the hips and pull you closer-settling himself right between your spread legs.

"You have no idea how much I ache for you," he muttered hoarsely, his voice rough with need. "I need you so much."

Heeseung's mouth crashed against yours before you could respond, his lips moving hungrily over yours.

There was no tenderness, only a raw, desperate need as he claimed your mouth completely. His hands were everywhere, touching you with a rough familiarity that spoke of his desperate need to feel every part of you all at once.

His breath came out in a sharp, ragged exhale as he pressed the thick head of his cock against your entrance-teasing, torturing both of you with the slow drag.

His entire body was trembling from how hard it was for him to not just shove inside right then and there.

“Ready, baby?”

And when you finally nod, he slides in with zero resistance, given how soaked you are.

A guttural groan tearing from his throat as he buried himself to the hilt, both of you immediately losing your sleepy haze.

"Fuck-" he choked out, forehead dropping to yours, "You feel so damn good."

A ragged breath before he started moving

-deep, punishing rolls of his hips that left no room for gentleness.

“Ngh, fuck—Hee!”

Heeseung's entire body locked up at the sound of your voice, his hips stuttering to a halt for a second. The way you clenched around him-tight, wet, perfect-had his vision whiting out for half a second.

"Fucking hell," he rasped against your neck, "You're trying to kill me."

A rough grind of his pelvis pressed even deeper as he fought not to lose it right then and there.

He needed you so badly right now. More than he'd ever needed anyone—and he never thought he could possibly be this addicted to someone, but here he was.

Addicted to you, his love.

Completely and utterly addicted to the feel of your skin against his, the sounds you made as he moved inside you, the way you looked at him like he was the center of your entire world.

“All this, mine, right?” He murmurs in between moans. “No one else to touch, to love, to have.”

He stops for a second, pulling back making you whine due to the sudden absence.

“Shh, baby, I know—I know.” He cooed, grabbing a pillow to move it under you, and then entering you again.

The angle change made the both of you breathless. He felt even deeper than what you thought was possible.

“So good—you’re so good for me.”

You felt the tight knot forming, and started clenching harder around him—making him jolt forward.

“Shit—baby, I know, I’ll get you there, yeah?” He kisses your temple.

He speeds up his thrusts, his tip hitting hard against your cervix.

He pulled you closer, his lips trailing up your neck to your ear, his breathing ragged against your skin.

“Come with me, baby.” He murmur, “That’s my girl.” He smiles when he feels you arch and tremble as your climax ran through you.

A ragged, guttural groan tore from his throat as he buried himself impossibly deeper-his entire body shuddering with release. His grip on you was ironclad, like he was afraid you'd vanish the second he let go.

"Fuck-yes," he panted against your sweat-slicked skin, "Mine. Only mine."

A few more rough thrusts before his hips stilled completely-spent and wrecked in the best way possible.

He dropped on top of you, making sure not to crush you with his weight as the both of you catch your breaths.

He got up, looking at you disheveled state. His hand ran through the sweaty hair sticking to your face, taking a good look at his girlfriend.

“How can it feel even better when we’re finally together now?”

taglist ! @only4mylove @xionvlog @heymaaaartin @in-somnias-world @freshtaledonut @nobodyaskedeu @coconutx-o @kristynaaah @skzenhalove @fataltrebles @lvlyhiraii @kjunebuggie

[heevangell]

Quiet worship

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader

genre: one shot, established relationship, fluffy mutual pining turned tender worship

warnings: 18+ only, explicit smut -soft dom heeseung, oral f receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

You’ve always loved how Heeseung’s apartment feels like a secret world.

It’s tucked on the top floor of an old building downtown, with big windows that overlook the city lights but stay mostly curtained because he prefers the dim glow of string lights and the warm amber of his gaming setup. No loud parties, no chaotic friends dropping by unannounced. Just the low hum of his keyboard when he’s composing late at night, the soft click of his mouse, and the occasional quiet melody he hums under his breath when he thinks you’re not listening.

Heeseung is introverted in the gentlest way. He recharges in silence, curls up with his headphones, and only truly shines when it’s just the two of you. Tonight is one of those rare perfect evenings: both of you off work, the city quiet outside, and a new vinyl you gifted him spinning softly on the player in the corner—some dreamy indie track that makes the room feel like it’s wrapped in velvet.

You’re sprawled on his oversized couch in one of his hoodies, legs tangled with his. He’s half-sitting, half-lying against the armrest, one hand lazily tracing patterns on your bare thigh while the other holds a half-forgotten mug of tea. His dark hair falls messily over his forehead, and those sharp eyes—usually focused on screens or sheet music—are fixed on you with that soft, almost shy intensity he only ever shows when you’re alone.

“You’re staring again,” you tease gently, nudging his knee with your foot.

Heeseung’s lips curve into a small, bashful smile. He doesn’t deny it. “Can’t help it. You look… comfortable here. Like you belong.” His voice is low, a little rough from disuse today. He clears his throat and adds, quieter, “I like that.”

Your heart does that familiar flip. Heeseung isn’t big on grand declarations, but when he says things like that—simple, sincere—it lands heavier than any poetry.

You shift closer, sliding into his lap until you’re straddling him. The hoodie rides up your thighs. His hands settle instinctively on your hips, thumbs brushing the hem of your (his) hoodie like he’s memorizing the way the fabric drapes over your skin.

“Baby…” he murmurs, tilting his head back against the couch so he can look up at you. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “You sure you don’t want to watch that movie? I can put it on. Or we can just… stay like this.”

You lean down, brushing your nose against his. “I am here for you, Hee. Not the movie.”

A soft breath escapes him—half sigh, half relief. His fingers tighten on your hips, pulling you closer until you can feel the growing hardness pressing against you through his sweatpants. He’s always been a little shy about how quickly his body reacts to you, like he’s still surprised that you want him this much.

Heeseung kisses you first—slow, tentative, like he’s savoring every second. His lips are warm and plush, moving against yours with that careful patience he brings to everything he cares about. One hand slides up your back under the hoodie, fingertips tracing your spine in feather-light strokes that make you shiver. The other cups the back of your neck, tilting your head just right so he can deepen the kiss, tongue brushing yours in lazy, sensual strokes.

You melt into him, arms wrapping around his shoulders. The kiss turns heated without rushing—soft moans exchanged between breaths, the wet sound of lips parting and meeting again filling the quiet room alongside the vinyl’s gentle crackle.

When you grind down against him experimentally, heeseung lets out a quiet, broken sound against your mouth. “Fuck… you feel so good already.”

You smile into the kiss. “Then take your time with me. I want to feel all of you tonight.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and glassy with want but still so soft. “Yeah? You want me to take care of you?”

You nod, brushing his hair back from his face. “yes, Hee.”

That’s all it takes.

Heeseung stands with you in his arms like you weigh nothing—strong. He carries you to his bedroom, the one place that feels even more like him: dim fairy lights strung across the headboard, a keyboard in the corner, and his bed with its soft black sheets that always smell faintly like his cologne and fresh laundry.

He lays you down gently, crawling over you and kissing you again—deeper this time, more insistent. His hands roam under the hoodie, pushing it up slowly until you lift your arms so he can pull it off. He tosses it aside and just… looks at you for a moment, breath catching.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, almost reverent. His introverted nature makes the compliment land heavier; he doesn’t say it casually. He means it with every part of himself.

Heeseung kisses down your neck, sucking lightly at your pulse point until you arch into him with a soft whimper. His mouth trails lower—collarbones, the swell of your breasts—lavishing attention with slow, open-mouthed kisses and gentle bites that make your skin bloom with faint marks. When he takes one nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling lazily, you thread your fingers through his hair and tug lightly. He groans against your skin, the vibration sending sparks straight between your legs.

“Hee… please…”

He doesn’t tease for long. Heeseung is a giver at heart—especially with you. He kisses his way down your stomach, hooking his fingers into your panties and sliding them down your legs with care, like unwrapping something precious. Once they’re gone, he settles between your thighs, broad shoulders spreading you open.

He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes heavy-lidded.

“I just… I want to make you feel good.”

You nod, breathless already.

He starts slow—pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs, then higher, until his tongue finally drags through your folds in one long, flat stroke.

The moan that leaves you is embarrassingly loud in the quiet room. Heeseung hums in satisfaction, the sound vibrating against your clit as he licks again, more deliberately this time.

He eats you out like he’s savoring a melody he’s composing just for you—patient, thorough, learning every note that makes you tremble. His tongue circles your clit with perfect pressure, then dips lower to push inside you, fucking you shallowly while his nose brushes your sensitive bundle of nerves. Two fingers slide in easily, curling up to stroke that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Oh god—Heeseung—”

He groans against you, the vibrations intensifying everything.

His free hand presses gently on your lower stomach, holding you in place as he sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks his tongue rapidly.

The pressure builds fast and overwhelming—your thighs shake around his head, fingers tightening in his hair.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmurs against your soaked pussy, voice husky.

You shatter back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash through you. Heeseung doesn’t stop—lapping gently, drawing it out until you’re whimpering and oversensitive, pushing weakly at his shoulders.

Only then does he pull back, lips shiny and chin wet, looking up at you with pure adoration mixed with raw hunger. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and crawls back up, kissing you deeply so you can taste yourself on his tongue.

You tug at his shirt and sweatpants impatiently.

He chuckles softly—low and warm—helping you strip him until he’s bare. His body is lean and toned in that quiet, understated way; not flashy, but strong where it counts.

His cock is hard and flushed, already leaking at the tip.

You reach for him, but he gently catches your wrist and kisses your palm.

“Not yet. I want to be inside you when I come… if that’s okay.”

You nod, pulling him down for another kiss.

Heeseung lines himself up, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick folds a few times, teasing both of you. Then he pushes in slowly—inch by inch—eyes fluttering shut and lips parting in a silent moan.

“Fuck… you’re so warm. So tight,” he whispers against your neck, staying still for a moment to let you adjust.

His arms bracket your head, caging you in that safe, intimate way he loves.

When you roll your hips, he starts moving—slow, deep thrusts that drag against every sensitive spot inside you.

It’s not frantic; it’s intense and deliberate, like he’s pouring every unspoken feeling into the way your bodies connect. Skin against skin, soft gasps and quiet moans filling the room, the faint creak of the bed.

Heeseung buries his face in your neck, murmuring praises between kisses: “You feel incredible… so good for me… I love how you take me… my pretty girl…”

Your second orgasm builds slower but stronger, coaxed by the steady rhythm and the way his pubic bone grinds against your clit with every thrust.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

“Hee—I’m close again—”

“Come with me,” he breathes, picking up the pace just enough. One hand slips between you to rub tight circles on your clit. “Please, baby—let me feel you.”

You come hard around him, clenching rhythmically as pleasure whites out your vision. Heeseung follows right after with a deep, guttural groan, hips stuttering as he spills inside you—warm pulses that make you tremble even more.

He keeps moving gently through the aftershocks, milking every last bit of pleasure, before collapsing half on top of you, careful not to crush you.

His breathing is ragged against your skin.

For a long moment, there’s only the sound of your heartbeats slowing and the distant vinyl still playing in the living room.

Heeseung eventually lifts his head, pressing the softest kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. “You okay?” he whispers, voice hoarse and tender.

You smile, cupping his face.

“More than okay. That was… everything.”

He flushes a little—still shy even after all that—and nuzzles into your neck.

“Good. Because I’m not done taking care of you tonight.”

A small, playful smile tugs at his lips. “Bath? Then more cuddles? Or… round two if you want.”

You laugh softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair. “All of the above. But only if you keep humming that melody you were working on earlier while we’re in the bath.”

Heeseung’s eyes crinkle with quiet happiness. “Deal. Anything for you.”

And in the warm glow of his bedroom, wrapped in his arms and his quiet love, the world outside feels very far away—exactly how heeseung likes it. Exactly how you like it too.

[heevangell]

Rainy Day & Your Hoodie

Pairing: heeseung x female!reader

genre: established relationship

Warnings 18+ MDNI • soft!Heeseung • soft-dom • fluffy smut • unprotected sex (fiction—wrap it irl) • so much kissing & cuddling

Rain taps steadily against the window of your tiny off-campus apartment. Midterms are finally over, and the relief feels like exhaling after holding your breath for like 1 or 2 weeks straight.

You’re sprawled across the couch in leggings and one of Heeseung’s stolen hoodies (the navy one with the music notes embroidered on the sleeve—he pretends to be annoyed when you take it, but the way his ears turn pink says otherwise). Your laptop is balanced on your thighs, last essay submitted thirty-seven minutes ago. Victory.

The front door clicks open.

Heeseung steps in shaking rain from his dark hair, black backpack slung over one shoulder, guitar case in his other hand. He’s wearing that soft gray hoodie you love on him, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and the moment he sees you his whole face lights up like sunrise.

“You’re done?” he asks, voice hopeful and a little awed.

“Done,” you confirm, closing the laptop with exaggerated finality. “No more library until next semester. Come here.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

He drops his things by the door, kicks off his sneakers, and crosses the room in three long strides. Instead of sitting beside you like a normal person, he kneels on the rug in front of the couch so he’s eye-level with you, hands immediately finding your knees.

“Hi,” he breathes, smiling so softly it makes your chest hurt.

“Hi yourself.” You reach out, carding fingers through his damp hair, pushing the wet strands off his forehead. “You’re all rainy.”

“Wanted to get back fast. Missed you.”

You roll your eyes but your smile betrays you. “You saw me this morning.”

“Six hours is forever.”

God, he’s ridiculous.

You tug lightly on his hair—just enough to make him hum—and guide his face closer.

“Kiss me like you missed me, then.”

Heeseung’s eyes flutter half-shut. He leans in slow, giving you every chance to stop him (he always does that, even after two years). When your lips meet it’s gentle at first—sweet pecks, little sighs—until you part your mouth and he follows instantly.

You deepen it, tilting his head exactly how you want with your grip in his hair. He lets you lead, soft needy sounds escaping him when you nip his bottom lip.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathing harder.

“Bedroom,” you say, not a question.

Heeseung nods immediately, cheeks flushed.

You stand, keeping his hand in yours, and lead him down the short hallway to your shared room. The fairy lights you strung last semester are already on (he always remembers to turn them on when he gets home first), casting warm gold across the messy bed and the stack of textbooks still on the nightstand.

You push him gently until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. He sits, looking up at you with those big, trusting eyes.

“Shirt off,” you tell him, voice soft but firm.

He complies without hesitation—pulls the hoodie over his head, hair fluffing up adorably. His skin is warm when you step between his legs, hands gliding up his bare sides, thumbs brushing over his ribs.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then the sensitive spot under his ear that makes him shiver.

Heeseung’s hands settle on your hips waiting for direction.

“You’ve been so good,” you say, nosing along his throat. “Waiting for me to finish studying, bringing me coffee at 2 a.m., not complaining when I fell asleep on my notes instead of on you.”

“I like taking care of you,” he whispers, voice a little wrecked already.

“I know.” You kiss him again, slower this time, guiding one of his hands under your hoodie to rest on your bare waist. “Now let me take care of you.”

You nudge him to lie back. He scoots up the bed, head on the pillows, watching you with quiet adoration as you climb over him, straddling his thighs.

You peel off your own hoodie—slowly, because you know he likes to watch—and toss it aside. His gaze drops immediately to your chest, then flicks back up to your face.

You smile, leaning down so your hair curtains around both of you.

Heeseung swallows hard. His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your boobs.

“So beautiful,” he breathes. “Always so beautiful.”

You reward him with a deep kiss, rolling your hips down just enough to feel how hard he already is through his sweatpants.

He whimpers into your mouth—soft, helpless—and you can’t help smiling against his lips.

“Pants off, baby.”

He lifts his hips eagerly so you can tug them down along with his boxers. His cock springs free, flushed and leaking at the tip. You wrap your hand around him loosely, giving one slow stroke, and he arches off the bed with a quiet gasp.

“Sensitive?” you tease.

“Been thinking about you all week,” he admits, cheeks burning. “Every time you sent me those late-night voice notes… I had to stop myself from jerking off.”

You lean down, kissing the center of his chest. “Good boy for waiting.”

His hands flex on your hips like he’s trying not to grab too hard.

You kiss lower—his collarbones, his sternum, the soft skin of his stomach—until you’re settled between his legs. You take him into your mouth slowly, tongue swirling around the head, savoring the way he trembles.

Heeseung’s fingers thread gently into your hair—not pulling, just holding—like he needs an anchor.

“Feels so good,” he whispers. “You’re so good to me.”

You hum around him, taking him deeper, and his hips twitch once before he stills himself with visible effort.

When you pull off with a soft pop, he looks dazed, lips parted.

“Want to be inside you,” he says quietly, almost shy. “Please?”

You crawl back up, kissing him sweetly.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

You shimmy out of your leggings and underwear, then straddle him again. He watches with wide eyes as you guide him to your entrance, sinking down inch by inch.

The stretch is perfect—slow, full, intimate. When you’re seated completely, you both pause, breathing together.

Heeseung’s hands settle on your thighs, thumbs stroking soothing circles.

“Perfect,” you murmur, starting to move—slow rolls of your hips at first, grinding more than bouncing.

Heeseung’s head tips back, throat exposed, quiet moans slipping out every time you take him deep.

“Look at me hee” you say gently.

His eyes snap to yours immediately—dark, hazy, full of so much love it makes your heart stutter.

“You’re doing so well,” you praise, leaning down to kiss him. “Letting me ride you like this… so sweet.”

He wraps his arms around your back, holding you close while you move. The position is intimate—chests pressed together, foreheads touching, every roll of your hips drawing soft gasps from both of you.

When your thighs start to burn, he notices instantly.

“Want me to help?” he asks, voice tender.

You nod.

Heeseung plants his feet on the mattress and starts thrusting up to meet you—gentle but deep, matching your rhythm perfectly.

His hands slide to your ass, not squeezing hard, just supporting, guiding you down onto him a little harder each time.

“Feels so good,” he breathes against your lips. “You’re perfect… so perfect for me.”

You speed up, chasing the edge, and he matches you effortlessly.

“Close?” he whispers.

“Yeah—don’t stop.”

One of his hands slips between you, thumb finding your clit with practiced ease. He circles gently, watching your face the whole time.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmurs. “Please? Wanna feel you.”

That does it.

You shatter clenching around him, and Heeseung follows right after—thrusting deep once, twice, then spilling inside you with a broken moan of your name.

You collapse onto his chest, both of you panting, sweaty, smiling like idiots.

He wraps both arms around you, holding you close, pressing kisses to your hair.

“Love you,” he whispers. “So much.”

“Love you more,” you mumble into his neck.

You stay like that for long minutes—him still inside you, softening slowly, neither of you wanting to move.

Eventually he shifts you both to the side so you’re spooning, him curled protectively around your back.

“Nap?” he asks hopefully.

“Nap,” you agree. “Then pizza. Then maybe round two.”

Heeseung laughs quietly, nuzzling into your hair.

“Whatever you want.”

You lace your fingers with his, squeezing.

Outside, the rain keeps falling...

[lovelee-evan]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 : 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝟐 — heeseung lee oneshot

summary. drunk your ass off, you confessed to your long-time crush since freshmen year in the graduation party where everyone gathered to have their final fun before finishing college. spoiler alert: he rejected you, and now years later you meet him again in a reunion party, with the same feelings, yet years apart.

pairings. excrush!heeseung x fem!reader

content / warning. mild angst + fluff, profanities here and there, mentions of alcohol, drunk/tipsy sex, making out, rough sex, riding, oral (fem!rec), unprotected sex, titplay, fingering, slight overstimulation & aftercare!

w.c. 10k

“No way. I’m not going,” you said, sipping onto your peach milk tea like that settled the matter.

Yunjin didn’t even blink. She just stared at you over the rim of her iced americano, unimpressed. “You haven’t even heard the details.”

“I don’t need to,” you replied smoothly, setting your drink down. “I already have plans that day.”

“Oh really?” she leaned back, crossing her arms. “What plans?”

“…Important plans.”

She raised a brow. “Name one.” You hesitated for half a second too long. “Laundry.”

Yunjin snorted. “You’re skipping a once-in-four-years reunion… to wash clothes.”

“It piles up,” you defended weakly. “Hygiene is important.”

“Right. Because you’ve never let laundry sit for a week before.”

You ignored that. “Also, I might be tired. Work has been exhausting.”

“You literally just told me yesterday you’ve been bored out of your mind.”

“…I can be tired and bored.”

“Mm-hmm.”

You grabbed your cup again, taking another long sip just to avoid her stare. “Plus, I don’t really like crowds.”

Yunjin blinked. “You went to a concert last month.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“…There was music.”

“There will be music at the reunion.”

You paused. “…I don’t like that kind of crowd.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm, eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re running out of excuses.”

“I’m not making excuses,” you said quickly. “I just don’t feel like going. It’s not that deep.”

“It’s very deep,” she shot back. “You said ‘no’ before I even finished the sentence.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again.

Okay, maybe that part was true.

Yunjin tilted her head, studying you like she was trying to crack a code. “What is it, then?”

“Nothing,” you said immediately.

“Liar.”

You let out a small groan, dropping back into your chair. “Why do you care so much if I go or not?”

“Because,” she said simply, “you used to love this kind of thing. Reunions, gatherings, all that nostalgic stuff. And now suddenly you’re acting like it’s a life-threatening event.”

You fiddled with the straw in your drink, pushing the ice around. “People change.”

“Not that much.”

Silence settled between you for a moment, filled only by the low hum of the café and the occasional clink of cups.

Yunjin softened, just slightly. “Look, I’m not saying you have to stay all night. Just… show up. Say hi. Exist for a bit.”

You stared at your drink again, watching the condensation slide down the plastic cup.

“…What if it’s awkward?” you muttered.

“It will be,” she said without hesitation.

You looked up at her.

She grinned. “For, like, five minutes. Then you grab a drink, talk to a few people, and suddenly it’s not a big deal anymore.”

You exhaled slowly, unconvinced. “Or it stays awkward.”

“Then we leave,” she shrugged. “Simple.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re not going to ditch me there, right?”

“Wow. I’m offended.”

“That’s not a no.”

She placed a hand dramatically over her chest. “I would never. I’ll be glued to your side the whole time.”

“…That sounds worse.”

Yunjin laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am, being forced into social events against my will.”

“You’re not being forced,” she corrected. “You’re being strongly encouraged.”

You huffed, tapping your fingers against the table. “I just don’t see the point. It’s been years. Everyone’s doing their own thing now.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Which is why it’s interesting. You get to see how everyone turned out.”

You raised a brow. “And what if I don’t want to know?”

“Too bad,” she shot back lightly. “Curiosity is part of being human.” You shook your head, but a small smile threatened to break through.

She caught it instantly. “There it is.”

“There what is?”

“That face,” she pointed. “The ‘I’m about to give in but I don’t want to admit it’ face.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” You held her gaze for a second… then looked away first.

“…I’ll think about it,” you mumbled.

Yunjin lit up like she’d just won something. “That means yes.”

“It means maybe.”

“It means yes.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “You’re so annoying.”

“And you love me,” she shot back effortlessly.

You sighed, reaching for your drink again.

“…We’ll see,” you said, trying to sound firm—but it came out a little too uncertain to be convincing.

Yunjin only smiled, completely unfooled.

And a week later, you arrive at the specially booked restaurant, arms locking with Yunjin, who has the brightest smile on her face people would mistake it for her birthday party.

You look around, already noticing familiar faces. Classmates who you shared one class with, those who you met on frat parties, and even those who you have worked with in the college’s management before.

“Holy fuck. Everyone’s here.” You sigh at Yunjin, who just chuckles. “That’s the point, smartie. A reunion—Oh! There’s Minjeong! Hi!” She smiles.

Kim Minjeong, another mutual friend of yours who you’re quite close to, has been overseas a lot lately, so it’s been hard to keep in touch. She isn’t technically outgoing, but when hanging out with her, it’s plenty of fun.

“Hey, Yunjin, (Name)! It’s been ages!” She goes in for a hug, which the both of you reciprocate.

“You’re the one traveling around the world. I still meet this girl every week.” Yunjin blurts out, while Minjeong passes two glasses of champange.

You politely decline. “I’m driving.” You smile, but Yunjin wriggle her eyebrows. “Or you don’t wanna make some stupid drunk mistake again?” In which you pinch her side, making her yelp.

Minjeong claps her hands, as if remembering a completely significant detail in her life. “Right! I heard it from Yunjin, I was so wasted I missed it.” She laughs.

You can feel yourself heating up from embarrassment. “You both remember yet you still ask me to come?” You grit your teeth.

“Relax…it’s been..what 4 years? I kid you not no one in this room remembers.”

Just as she say that, a four guys enter the room. Your eyes wander to one of them, and you already feel like throwing up.

“I can’t do this.” You are about to turn away from them, removing Yunjin’s arm.

“Girls!” Jay, the ever so loud and familiar goes up to you guys. The other three followed him without hesitation.

“Wow…you guys barely change..” Yunjin says, analyzing their faces as if so much could change in a matter for four years.

“Can’t say the same to you guys, you guys look more mature now.” Jake teases while the three of you try your best not to give him the stinkiest stare known to mankind.

While they kept on conversing, your eyes landed on the last guy in the group.

Features as sharp as you remembered, only more defined now—time had carved a quiet confidence into him. His hair was a little longer, styled like he didn’t try too hard but still got it right, and the way he carried himself… steadier, grounded.

Older.

Familiar.

Dangerously so.

Lee Heeseung.

His eyes capture yours, and years of attempt to bury the past seems to fail you right there and then.

4 YEARS AGO

Your head is hazy.

The music is too loud—bass pounding through your chest, lights blurring every time you blink. Everything feels warm, unsteady, like the floor might tilt if you stand still for too long.

You shouldn’t have had that last drink.

Or the one before that.

Or… any of them, really.

But it’s too late now.

Because across the room—

You see him.

And suddenly, the noise fades just enough for your thoughts to latch onto one thing.

There he is.

Your heart lurches, something bubbling up in your chest—something that’s been sitting there for far too long.

It feels big.

Too big.

Too loud to keep in anymore.

Before you can think better of it, you’re already moving—pushing through people, brushing past shoulders, ignoring the way someone calls your name from behind.

By the time you stop, you’re right in front of him.

He looks surprised.

“Hey—are you okay?” he asks, eyes scanning your face.

You stare at him.

God, why does he look so… normal?

Like he hasn’t completely rearranged your brain chemistry just by existing.

“I need to tell you something,” you say, words slightly slurred but determined.

His brows pull together. “Maybe not right now, you look—”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “No, I have to say it now.”

A few people nearby glance over.

You don’t notice.

Or maybe you just don’t care.

Because your heart is racing too fast, your thoughts tripping over each other as they try to come out all at once.

“I like you, Heeseung.” you blurt.

There it is.

Out. Done. No taking it back.

Silence.

His expression freezes—caught completely off guard.

“…You do?” he says after a beat, like he’s trying to make sure he heard you right.

You nod, a little too hard. “Yeah. Like—like a lot. For a long time.”

Another pause.

Longer this time.

Too long.

He runs a hand through his hair, clearly scrambling for something to say. “I—I didn’t know that.”

“Well, yeah,” you let out a shaky laugh. “That’s why I’m telling you now.”

“Right,” he nods slowly, still processing. “I just—uh…”

He hesitates.

And that’s all it takes.

That tiny pause.

That flicker of uncertainty.

Your chest tightens instantly.

Because in your head, it already sounds like a no.

“I mean,” he starts carefully, “you’re really—”

“Oh my god,” you cut in, the words hitting you all at once. “You don’t like me.”

He blinks. “Wait—no, I didn’t say—”

“It’s fine,” you laugh, but it comes out sharp. Too sharp. “You don’t have to do the whole ‘you’re really nice’ thing, I get it.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off, stepping back slightly. “No, it’s cool. Totally cool.”

Your heart is pounding now—but not in the same way.

Hot. Embarrassed. Defensive.

“Wow,” you let out another laugh, louder this time. “I really picked the worst time to say that, huh?”

He looks genuinely concerned now. “Hey, maybe we should talk when you’re a bit—”

“What? Sober?” you shoot back. “So I can be rejected properly?”

“I’m not rejecting you,” he says quickly.

But you’re already shaking your head.

“No, no, you are,” you insist, like you’ve already decided it. “It’s fine. You don’t like me. Great. Awesome. Love that for me.”

“Can you just—listen for a second?”

You scoff, folding your arms. “Oh, now you want me to listen.”

“I’ve been trying to—”

“Save it,” you cut him off, your voice rising without you meaning to. “You hesitated. That’s all I needed.”

A few more people are definitely watching now.

Still—you don’t stop.

“Honestly, it’s whatever,” you ramble, words spilling out faster now. “You’re not even—like, all that.”

His brows lift slightly. “…What?”

“Yeah,” you nod, doubling down. “You’re just—there. Like, I don’t even know why I—”

“Okay, that’s enough.”

A hand suddenly grabs your arm.

You turn to see Yunjin, eyes wide and mildly horrified.

“Abort,” she mutters under her breath.

“Wait, no—” you try to pull back, pointing at him. “He needs to hear this—”

“He really doesn’t,” she says, already dragging you away.

Another friend appears on your other side, helping her pull you back through the crowd.

“You’re making a scene,” Yunjin hisses.

“I’m not—!” you protest, twisting to look over your shoulder. “I just think it’s funny how he—”

Your words fade as the distance grows, the noise swallowing everything again.

The last thing you see is him standing there—

Still.

Confused.

Like he didn’t even get the chance to finish what he was going to say.

By the time graduation rolled around, you had a plan.

A very simple one.

Get your certificate. Take pictures. Leave.

No lingering. No wandering around. And most importantly—no running into him.

“Okay, one more!” Yunjin called, already dragging you back into place with the rest of the girls.

You forced a smile, adjusting your gown as the camera flashed again.

Click.

Another one.

Click.

“Wait, wait—this lighting is good, don’t move!” someone said, pulling you slightly to the side.

You laughed, letting them reposition you, arms slinging around familiar shoulders as you leaned in.

For a moment, it felt normal.

Easy.

Like nothing embarrassing had ever happened.

“Family next!” your mom called from behind the crowd, waving you over.

“Coming!” you replied quickly—maybe a little too quickly.

You slipped out of the group before anyone could stop you, weaving through people until you reached your family. Your mom immediately fussed over your hair, your gown, your everything.

“Stand properly—smile nicely,” she said, fixing your collar.

“I am smiling,” you insisted.

“Not like that. A proper smile.”

You forced one, holding it as the camera flashed.

Click.

Another angle.

Click.

“Okay, now one more—”

“How many is one more?” you muttered under your breath, but stayed in place anyway.

More flashes. More poses.

You nodded along, played your part, laughed when you were supposed to.

But your eyes—

Your eyes kept moving. Scanning. Just in case.

Just to make sure.

“Alright, done!” your dad finally said, lowering the camera.

“Great!” you replied instantly, already stepping back. “Okay, I’m just gonna—uh—go find the girls again—”

“Wait, one more with your aunt—”

“I’ll come back!” you said quickly, already inching away.

You didn’t wait for a response.

You turned.

And walked.

Fast.

Not running. Definitely not running. Just… walking with urgency.

In the opposite direction.

Away from the crowd.

Away from—

“Hey.”

You froze.

Oh no.

Slowly, you turned. And there he was.

Standing just a few steps away.

Of course.

Of course this would happen.

Your brain short-circuited for half a second before you forced out the most normal response you could manage.

“Oh—hey,” you said, like your heart hadn’t just dropped to your stomach.

There was a brief pause.

He looked like he wanted to say something.

Anything.

You didn’t give him the chance.

“Congrats, by the way,” you added quickly, words coming out a little too fast. “On, you know—graduating. Obviously.”

Wow.

Incredible.

He blinked, a little caught off guard. “…Thanks. You too.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” you nodded, already stepping back. “Okay, I’m gonna go—my friends are—uh—waiting.”

They weren’t.

But that didn’t matter.

“Wait—” he started.

“I’ll see you around!” you cut in, already turning away.

And then—

You bolted.

Actually bolted this time.

Straight back into the crowd, not daring to look over your shoulder.

You didn’t stop until you found Yunjin again, grabbing onto her arm like a lifeline.

“Hey—what—” she started.

“We’re leaving,” you said immediately.

“Now?”

“Now.”

She blinked. “But we haven’t took pictures with—”

“I said now.”

She stared at you for a second… then glanced past you, as if piecing things together.

“…Did you see him?”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t need to.

Yunjin sighed, already gathering her things. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Please,” you muttered.

She shook her head, but didn’t argue further.

And just like that—

You made your exit.

Quick.

Clean.

And determined to never, ever relive that moment again.

—

You find yourself spacing out the whole time the group talk to each other, reminiscing old memories, fun times at parties, late night study sessions that ends up in a movie marathon.

However you can’t seem to focus.

Not when he’s literally sitting beside you, while the others talk like everything’s fine.

To be fair, everything is fine. You’re the one that’s having issues right now, while the others clearly moved on from that incident.

“Not drinking?” You hear his voice beside you.

You turn to him, and his eyes are already on you.

You shake your head. “I’m on the wheel back home, and I don’t trust Yunjin driving me back.”

He lets out a small laugh. Eyes wrinkling and his smile soft, like always.

“Don’t make that your limitation. The cabs are always there.” He says, motioning you the untouched glass of champagne.

You wonder did he see you eyeing everyone’s lips as they took sips of their own drinks, feeling envious—or he’s trying to force you to drink.

You immediately dismiss the latter. No way. He’s not the type. Definitely not.

So, carefully, slowly, you lift your drink to your lips, forcing your hand not to shake. You tip it just enough to take a sip, letting the liquid slide down like a quiet, private concession.

And when you set the glass down, your eyes flicker to him again.

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t comment. Just… watches.

Something about the way he looks at you makes your chest tighten in a way you can’t name yet.

He leans slightly closer as if to be heard over the music, tilting his head with that familiar, careful expression. “So… how’ve you been?”

You blink, caught off guard. It’s casual, normal—easy—but somehow it makes your stomach twist. “I… I’ve been good,” you say, keeping your voice steady. “Busy. You know how it is.”

He nods, the corners of his mouth tilting up just slightly. “Yeah, I do. Still working in journalism?”

You grin faintly, a little proud despite the nerves. “Yeah. Mostly features and interviews now. I cover some big events, travel occasionally… keeps me on my toes.”

He whistles softly. “That’s… impressive. I didn’t realize you’d gotten that far.” His tone is easy, conversational, but you catch the hint of genuine interest in his eyes.

“And you?” you ask, leaning slightly forward. “Still with media? Behind the camera side of things?”

He chuckles, a low, easy sound that makes you almost forget the pounding of your heart. “Yeah, same scene. Producing mostly, sometimes directing. We haven’t… crossed paths though, have we?”

“Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “Funny how that works, right? Same world, just… never colliding.”

He laughs quietly, almost ruefully. “Guess some things just take their own time.”

You glance at him, noticing the subtle change in his expression—something softer, more open than you remember. The air between you feels… lighter, and yet, heavier, in a way that keeps your fingers gripping your drink a little too tightly.

“So,” he says, leaning back slightly, “what’s the craziest story you’ve covered recently?”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling despite yourself. “Crazy is subjective, but I might have a few that would make you spit out your drink.”

He grins, and for a moment, it feels like no years have passed at all.

—

The conversation between the both of you are going smoothly.

Infact, too smooth.

Like the fact that you crashed out in front of him and possibly humiliate yourself and him a little did not happen.

That you went all out in front of him years ago. That night. The one that was supposed to be your big, humiliating, heart-on-your-sleeve confession.

You almost expect him to bring it up. Maybe a teasing remark, a half-laugh, an eyebrow raise, something subtle. But he doesn’t. Not even a flicker of recognition.

Your chest tightens just a little, a mix of disbelief and nervous amusement. Did he even remember? Or is he just… choosing not to?

You take a slow sip of your drink, letting the liquid steady your racing thoughts.

“Feels like we’re actually having a normal conversation,” you say, trying to mask the strange flutter in your stomach.

A few drinks in and you finally feel it—the subtle, creeping warmth spreading through your chest and limbs, the light buzz at the edges of your thoughts.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you realize just how… relaxed you feel. Not fully drunk, not sloshed, but that gentle, teasing tipsiness that makes your laugh come a little easier and your words just slide out without overthinking them.

You take a slow sip of your drink, letting it wash over you, and notice your fingers brushing the glass a little too often, your hand trembling ever so slightly.

You blink a few times, trying to steady your gaze, and that’s when you notice him watching you. Not in a pointed or intrusive way—just… observant, like he’s quietly taking stock.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low, careful.

You let out a soft laugh, brushing a hand over your forehead. “Yeah… just… maybe a little tipsy.”

His eyes flicker with something—concern, perhaps, or maybe just mild amusement. “You’re starting to look it. Head’s a little heavy?”

You tilt your head, the movement slow, a little clumsy. “Yeah… maybe. Just feeling… tired, I guess.”

He leans in slightly, not too close, but close enough that you notice. “Want me to get you some water? Or maybe sit down for a bit?”

You shake your head, smiling faintly, a little embarrassed. “No… I’m fine. Just… didn’t realize how much the day caught up with me.”

He nods, accepting your answer, though his gaze lingers a moment longer than necessary, making your chest flutter. “Alright… just… don’t push yourself too hard, okay?”

You glance at him, catching the way his eyes soften when he speaks. “Yeah… I’ll try.”

And just like that, the buzz in your head feels a little warmer, a little more bearable—not just from the drink, but from the quiet care in his tone.

“Why are we acting like it never happened?” you ask, searching for his eyes through your hazy ones.

He blinks, caught off guard by the directness, and for a moment, his carefully composed expression falters. “…We… what?”

“That night,” you insist, tipping your drink slightly, letting the amber liquid catch the light. “Graduation party. Me, completely falling apart, confessing… probably embarrassing both of us. That night. Why are we pretending it didn’t happen?”

He exhales slowly, a small, almost rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I… I don’t know. I guess I just… didn’t think it mattered. Didn’t want to make it more awkward than it already was.”

You squint at him, teasing but still slightly accusatory. “Not awkward? You mean the part where I’m yelling at you, convinced you were rejecting me, and my friends had to pull me away?”

He winces slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay… yeah, fine. That was awkward.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “Awkward? That’s one word for it. Humiliating would be more accurate.”

He chuckles softly, like he can’t help himself. “I didn’t want you to feel like I was judging you. Honestly, I was… surprised. And kind of… baffled.”

“Baffled?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “Baffled is the nicest word I’ve ever heard used to describe that disaster.”

He shrugs, grin teasing but gentle. “Hey, you made it memorable.”

You groan, pressing a hand to your face. “Memorable. That’s exactly what I wanted—my nightmare plastered in my memory forever.”

He laughs quietly, and you feel a little of the tension in your chest ease, even as your cheeks burn.

“See?” you mutter, lowering your hands. “This is why I can’t act like it didn’t happen.”

He leans back slightly, looking at you with something softer in his gaze. “Alright. It happened. And… honestly? I’m kind of glad you brought it up.”

You blink, caught off guard. “…Glad?”

He nods, grin small but real. “Yeah. Makes this… easier. Us talking now, I mean. We’re past it.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the tipsy warmth in your chest suddenly feeling a little lighter. “Past it… sure. I’ll try to believe that.”

And for the first time in years, the memory doesn’t sting quite as much—mostly because it’s not just a memory anymore. You’re here, talking. Laughing. And he’s still looking at you.

You fan your face instinctively, heat creeping up your cheeks. Just talking to him—him—makes your chest flutter and your stomach twist, like it used to back in college.

Or maybe it’s the booze. Probably the booze.

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but the warmth lingers anyway. Fingers tapping nervously against the rim of your glass, you force a laugh, brushing at your hair like that will hide how flustered you feel.

He notices, of course. His gaze softens, just a little, and it makes your chest clench in a way you’re not ready to admit out loud.

“Too much?” he asks lightly, a teasing edge that makes your ears burn even more.

“N-no,” you stammer, fanning yourself again, probably looking ridiculous. “Just… warm. Hot in here, I mean.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, raising a brow, clearly unconvinced but letting it slide.

You sip your drink quickly, hoping the liquid will do more than cool your throat—that it’ll calm the frantic beat of your heart. But even as you set the glass down, you know the truth: whether it’s college nerves or the booze, just being here with him has you all twisted up again.

And god, it’s thrilling. Terrifying. And completely unavoidable.

Before you can fully protest, you feel his hand brush against yours—and then grasp it firmly.

“Hey,” he says softly, voice low, steady. “Come with me for a sec. Get some air.”

Your heart does a little stutter. “Uh… outside?” you ask, trying to sound casual while your fingers tingle where his hold lingers.

He nods, tugging gently but firmly. “Yeah. Just… a quick breather. Trust me.”

You hesitate for only a fraction of a second before letting him lead you out. The restaurant door swings open, and suddenly the noise—the music, the chatter, the clinking glasses—falls away.

The night air hits you like a wave, cool and sharp against your flushed cheeks. You inhale deeply, letting it settle in your lungs, fingers still lightly entwined with his.

“You… didn’t have to,” you murmur, glancing up at him.

“I know,” he replies quietly, his thumb brushing your hand in a small, unconscious gesture. “But you needed it. I could tell.”

You swallow, feeling your chest tighten. The world feels quieter here, simpler, like the space between you shrinks in a way it never did back in college.

“Thanks…Hee,” you whisper, almost embarrassed by how sincerely you mean it.

He gives a small, easy smile at the nickname, one that somehow makes the tipsy nervousness in your chest melt just a little. “Anytime.”

You realize, as you stand there under the dim glow of the streetlights, that maybe—just maybe—it’s easier to breathe when he’s around.

You start staring at him, and suddenly it all clicks—the reason your crush had lingered all those years.

He’s… stunning. Not just good-looking, but the kind of presence that lingers in your chest like a low hum. His voice drifts to you, soft and deliberate, saying your name like it’s fragile, like you might vanish if he’s too loud.

And his eyes… they’re honest. Sincere. Like when you meet his gaze, he’s not just looking—he’s pulling, gently, hypnotically, drawing you into the orbit of him without any effort at all.

But the part that steals your breath? His aura. Quiet, commanding, just a little dangerous. Back in college, everyone wanted Heeseung. He was the silent one in the friend group, keeping mostly to himself, but that quietness only made him magnetic. Girls would orbit him, laugh at his half-smiles, and before anyone even realized, he’d slip away with them upstairs, private and mysterious.

And now, standing here, just talking, just existing… all of it is clear. The looks, the quiet confidence, the way he moves without needing to draw attention—he’s still the same Heeseung, and somehow, somehow, it’s even more intoxicating than you remembered.

Your chest tightens, your pulse picks up, and you realize… yeah, this crush? It never really faded. Not then, not now.

—

You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away before they spiral any further. With a shaky breath, you let him guide you back inside, reminding yourself to focus on something else—anything else.

But the moment the door swings open, reality hits.

Your friends are already there, dragging both of you toward the dance floor. The crowd presses in like sardines, bodies bumping, brushing, too close for comfort. The bass rattles through your chest, and you can barely see through the mass of people, let alone move without stepping on someone’s toes.

You glance at him, half-expecting him to protest, but he just lets out a small laugh, brushing an invisible piece of stray hair from your face. You force a smile, gripping his hand lightly—half for balance, half because the warmth there is grounding.

Somehow, you’re swept along, the tipsy buzz in your chest mingling with the chaos around you. Every movement, every laugh, every brush of someone else’s arm against yours makes your heart race just a little faster.

And you can’t help but wonder… if he notices how much closer you’re holding on, or if he’s lost in the crowd as well.

As the crowd shuffles and sways, Yunjin suddenly bumps into you from the side, jostling you forward. Before you can steady yourself, your back hits him—Heeseung—and instinctively, your body freezes.

Instead of stepping back or letting you go, a warm hand settles on your waist, steadying you. His touch is firm, deliberate, grounding against the chaos of the dance floor.

You feel the press of his front against your back, the faint brush of his chest along yours, and your breath catches in a way that’s impossible to ignore.

He sways slightly with the movement of the crowd, and you realize his hand isn’t just keeping you upright—it’s guiding, moving with you in a rhythm that matches the music, subtle but intimate.

Your pulse hammers, and for a moment, the noise of the dance floor, the heat, the crowd—all of it—blurs away. There’s just the warmth of him behind you, the gentle sway, and the sharp awareness of every accidental contact.

You inhale sharply, fingertips brushing against his hand at your waist, and you know the tipsy heat in your chest just got a lot more dangerous.

The press of his body against yours is subtle at first—just a nudge here, a sway there—but with each accidental brush, the tension coils tighter in your chest.

His hand on your waist doesn’t move, doesn’t falter, just… stays, guiding your body slightly with the rhythm of the music. Every small shift makes you hyper-aware: the warmth of him behind you, the faint scent of his cologne, the way the beat makes your bodies move closer without any real thought.

Your stomach twists, heat pooling lower, and you realize just how intimate this accidental closeness has become. The tipsy warmth in your head mingles dangerously with the awareness of him—his strength, his scent, the way he’s so steady—and suddenly every sway, every brush, feels loaded.

You glance over your shoulder, heart hammering, catching his eyes in the briefest of moments. There’s a faint smirk on his lips, and the look in his gaze is… unreadable, teasing, but undeniably deliberate.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, and you know you’re far too aware of him, far too conscious of the way your bodies are pressing, rubbing, moving together—despite the chaos of the crowd.

And just like that, what should have been an innocent brush in a dance floor sardine-fest has started to feel… suggestive. Too suggestive. Too thrilling. And definitely, definitely impossible to ignore.

“Screw all this.” He mutters and brings out outside again.

He steps closer, and before you can even process what’s happening, his hand gently presses against the wall beside you, trapping you in the small space between him and the brick.

Your breath catches in your throat as you glance up at him, heart hammering painfully in your chest. His eyes search yours for a fraction of a second, soft and steady, before his lips meet yours.

The kiss is slow, deliberate, and warm, melting the last of your tipsy haze into something sharper, more urgent. Your fingers curl at his shoulders, holding on as if letting go would make the world collapse, and every nerve in your body lights up with awareness—his warmth, the press of his chest, the taste of him.

He deepens the kiss just slightly, careful but insistent, and you realize there’s no part of this that’s accidental. Every movement, every touch, every brush of his lips is intentional—and it leaves you dizzy, breathless, and entirely captivated.

For a moment, nothing exists outside of the two of you: the night, the faint hum of distant music, the cool air on your flushed cheeks. There’s only him, only this kiss, only the overwhelming pull you’ve felt for years finally becoming real.

“Heeseung…” you whisper, still catching your breath, pulling back just enough to look at him.

He doesn’t answer right away. His gaze lingers on you, intense, dark, and impossibly magnetic. Then, finally, he reaches for his phone, thumbs moving quickly. “Cab’s coming,” he says, voice low, a rough edge to it that makes your chest tighten. “I can’t drive like this… but I want to get us somewhere… private.”

The words hit you, sharp and urgent, and your stomach flips. You feel his hand brush yours, almost brushing your fingers against the hem of his palm, grounding you even as your pulse races.

He drapes his jacket over your shoulders without a word, his hand lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. You shiver—not from the cold, but from the heat of him, the closeness, the way he looks at you like he’s been waiting years for this moment.

The cab arrives, and he gestures for you to step inside first, letting his hand hover near yours in a silent promise of care and anticipation. You slide into the seat, the leather cool against your skin, and he follows, closing the door with a soft click.

The hum of the engine and the blur of city lights outside do nothing to quiet the electricity between you. He leans back slightly, fingers brushing against yours now and then, each touch light but deliberate, a silent tease that makes your breath hitch every time.

You steal a glance at him, heart hammering. His eyes catch yours immediately, dark and serious, and for a second the world shrinks down to just the two of you. Every inch of closeness, every brush of warmth, makes it impossible to think clearly.

And as the cab moves through the night, the air between you thick with unspoken desire, you realize… this is far from over.

Your hands rest on your lap, fingers twitching nervously, when you feel him gently brush against yours. Just a graze at first, teasing, testing—but then he takes your hand in his.

He doesn’t squeeze or hold too tightly, just… plays with your fingers, tracing subtle patterns, sliding your fingers between his, rolling them lightly, letting you feel his warmth without saying a word.

You catch your breath, tipsy warmth twisting into something sharper, something electric. Every touch makes your heart hammer, every movement of his fingers against yours feels deliberate, intimate, like he’s silently marking you as his.

You glance up at him through the dim glow of the cab lights. His eyes meet yours, soft but teasing, watching your reaction like he’s savoring it. And somehow, just the act of his hands on yours, the closeness, the quiet intimacy, makes everything else—the embarrassment, the crowded dance floor, even the alcohol—fade away.

You can’t stop the small shiver running through you. He’s just playing with your hands, and yet it feels like so much more.

—

The moment the front door clicks shut, everything snaps back into focus—too close, too fast, too much.

Before you can even turn properly, his hand finds your wrist, then your waist, and suddenly your back meets the door with a soft thud.

Your breath catches.

And then he’s kissing you again.

Not like before—this time it’s urgent, like he’s been holding himself back the entire ride and finally gave up. His lips crash into yours, warm and insistent, and your fingers instinctively clutch at his shirt, grounding yourself as the world tilts.

The faint scent of him surrounds you, familiar and intoxicating, and the quiet of his place makes everything louder—the sound of your breathing, the soft shift of fabric, the way your heart pounds like it might give you away.

He pulls you closer, one hand still firm at your waist, the other bracing against the door beside your head. There’s no space left between you now, no room to think, only feel.

You melt into it despite yourself, responding, your hands tightening slightly against him as the kiss deepens just enough to make your head spin.

For a split second, he pauses—just enough to catch your breath, his forehead almost brushing yours, his voice low and uneven.

“…We can stop,” he murmurs, even though his grip doesn’t loosen. “If you want.”

But the way he looks at you—like he’s been waiting, like he’s barely holding on—makes your answer feel inevitable.

You shake your head, pulling him even closer. “Please, I want it.”

Heeseung responded eagerly to your confession, his hands roaming over your body, pulling you closer to him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a heated, passionate dance.

His eyes darkened with a possessive gleam at your words. He picked you up easily, his hands gripping your thighs as he carried you to the bedroom like a prize.

Laying you down on the bed, his body covering yours. He captured your lips in a fierce kiss again, his hands roaming over your body, his touch burning hot. "Are you sure about this, (Name)?" He asked between ragged breaths.

You nodded, looking directly into his eyes before saying: “I trust you.”

Heeseung's expression softened at your words, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and something deeper—something protective. He exhaled sharply before pressing his forehead against yours.

"Then I'll make sure you don't regret it." His voice was rough but tender as he slid a hand under the hem of your shirt, fingertips tracing slow circles on your skin.

As his mouth moved from your lips to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, His hand traced over your waist, his touch leaving a trail of fire on your skin.

"You're so beautiful." He murmured, his voice low and ragged. "Obsessed with you. Always been." He murmurs into your skin.

He took his time exploring your body with gentle, teasing touches, his fingers tracing over the curve of your hips, his lips teasing at sensitive spots that made you shiver.

You let out a small whine when the heat gets to you and you want nothing but your clothes off right now, and he understands just that.

Heeseung's hands moved with slow, deliberate care as he peeled off your clothes. His eyes darkened as more skin was revealed to him—his gaze hungry but worshipful.

"God..." he breathed out, his fingertips ghosting over newly exposed areas like he was memorizing you. "You’re so fucking pretty. I might cum from just looking at you like this."

His lips followed the path of his hands, kissing down your collarbone, lingering on the swell of your breast before looking up at you through hooded lashes for permission.

“Please,” is all you say.

He groaned low in his throat, the sound rough and wanting. His hands cupped your breasts with reverence before he lowered his mouth to one peaked nipple.

"Fuck—so good," he muttered against your skin, tongue swirling teasingly before sucking hard enough to make you gasp. His free hand pinched and rolled the other nipple between his fingers while he watched for every reaction on your face.

He switched sides with a dark chuckle, "Tell me if I'm too much."

You clench your thighs when he said that making his grin widen, stroking the skin between them.

“I’ve got you, sweet girl.” He says, “Just tell me if I need to slow down, okay?”

His mouth trails lower and lower and his delicate hands pulls your underwear down.

Heeseung's breath hitched as he pulled off your underwear, his eyes roaming over the newly exposed area with a possessive hunger that made your breath catch.

He took his time, his touch trailing up from your thigh, his fingertips leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake.

"So beautiful. So perfect." he murmured, "I want to taste you—can I?"

As you nod, he lets out a small noise. “Words, baby.” He nips your inner thigh making you yelp, “Yes! Please, taste me!”

Heeseung groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as he lowered himself between your legs. His tongue traced a slow, teasing line up the center of you—just enough to make you shudder.

"Fuck," he muttered against your skin, "You taste even better than I imagined."

Then he dove in fully—sucking and licking with an intensity that had stars bursting behind your eyelids.

Each stroke of Heeseung's tongue was a spark of fire, lighting up every nerve. He took his time, learning your body like a favorite song — every sweet spot, every little sound, just another part of this perfect dance.

The alcohol is really messing up your mind, you whine, feeling needy and impatient.

Heeseung chuckled against your skin, feeling your impatience. He lifted his head, his lips glistening with arousal.

"Someone's needy, huh?" He teased, before sitting up and grabbing your thighs. "Turn over. Hands and knees."

Heeseung's hands guided you, helping you turn over, until you were on all fours in front of him.

"Good girl," he said, his voice rough with desire. "Just like that."

He ran his hand down the arch of your back, admiring the view before him. "So pretty."

The tip of his finger trailed further down your spine, just barely grazing the sensitive skin of your rear.

"Can you take me like this, baby?" He asked, his voice a low purr.

You let out a another soft moan, nodding.

Heeseung groaned, unable to hold back a smirk at the sound. The way you responded to him, it lit a fire within him. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your skin.

"That's my girl." He praised, his hand roaming across your skin possessively before he shifted on the bed, positioning himself right behind you.

His fingers slid into you with slow, deliberate pressure—curling just right to drag a choked gasp from your lips.

"Fuck, so tight," he gritted out between clenched teeth. His thumb pressed firm circles against that sweet spot as he scissored his fingers inside you. "Gonna make sure I get every damn sound out of you."

He leaned over further, his chest pressing against your back. He wanted to feel you closer, so close that he could hear every beat of your heart. His lips brushed the shell of your ear.

"You ready for me, pretty girl?"

Your moans became louder, but he isn’t satisfied.

Heeseung chuckled, the sound dark and rough as he nipped at your earlobe.

"That's not an answer." His fingers curled deeper inside you—punishingly slow—just to feel how wet and desperate you were for him. "Say it. Tell me what you want."

"I want you. All of you." I said, my voice thick with wanting.

Heeseung shuddered, the words sinking into him like a drug, the alcohol’s influence isn’t helping either. It was exactly what he wanted to hear.

"Such a good girl." He murmured, his words punctuated by a sharp bite to your shoulder. Then his hands left your body—leaving you empty—and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of him fumbling with his clothes.

"I'm gonna give you all of me."

When you turn your head to look at him, he was already bare, the sight of him make your stomach flip. He looked like a goddamn marble sculpture come to life—all hard muscle and smooth skin, every line of him taut with tension. But it was his size that made you gasp.

"See something you like?" He teased, his eyes dark and hungry as they traveled over you, taking in the flush on your skin.

“Please go slow, I’m gonna tear.” You said, still baffled at his ridiculously large size. He’s huge, way huge than the other guys you’ve experienced sex with.

Heeseung's smirk softened into something tender at your plea. He cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

"It’s alright, I got you." His voice was rough but gentle as he pressed a slow kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I'll go as slow as you need me to."

He positioned himself at your entrance, one hand bracing against the bed while the other guided his length in with agonizing patience—letting you feel every inch stretch around him until tears pricked at the corners of his eyes from holding back so hard.

He paused then, letting you adjust to his size. He pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, your back, your neck. He was everywhere, surrounding you with his presence.

He whispered in your ear: "You okay?"

He let out a ragged groan, his entire body tensing as he tried to keep control. His hands tightened on your hips, fingers pressing into soft flesh as he fought the urge to just take.

"Fuck, you feel too good." His voice was wrecked already, strained with restraint. He pressed his forehead at your back and exhaled hard. "Tell me when I can move."

You nodded, taking a moment to adjust to the overwhelming fullness before giving him a shaky nod a few seconds later. "You can move."

Heeseung groaned at your words, relief and desire warring within him. He eased back at a slow, steady pace, his hands steadying you. After a few more thrusts, he turn you around so that you’re facing each other.

"Wrap your legs around me." The command was growled out, barely recognizable as his own voice. "I want you closer."

His breath hitched as he watched you obey, his body trembling with restraint. The second your legs locked around him, he snapped—burying himself to the hilt in one rough thrust.

"Shit—!" His voice broke on a groan, fingers digging bruises into your hips as he held you there for a torturous moment. "You take me so damn well baby,"

His control was teetering, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back. He leaned forward, pressing you down into the bed with the weight of his body.

"You know just how crazy you make me?" He murmured, his lips brushing your ear with every word. "That night, and then graduation, you left without me having any say,"

He ran a hand down your side, his touch possessive, almost greedy as he mapped every curve, every dip and arch. “Not letting me tell you how much I wanted you too..”

You clench harder at his confession.

Heeseung's entire body shuddered as he felt you clench around him—tight, wet, perfect.

His grip on your hips turned bruising as a ragged groan tore from his throat.

"Thought about you every—shit, baby relax—" he choked out between gritted teeth. The sensation was almost too much to bear; the way you pulsed around him had his vision whiting out for a second.

"You trying to kill me?" he rasped, hips jerking instinctively into yours despite himself.

You laugh at him, finding him silly before another sharp thrust making you fall apart.

Heeseung's breath caught in his throat at the sound. The way you laughed and then immediately fell to pieces, moaning for him? It was like music to his ears.

Heeseung smiled against your neck, his grip tightening on you as he pulled back just enough to watch the way your body responded to him. “Oh fuck, Heeseung! Like that—“

"Like this?" he teased, dragging his hips forward in a slow, filthy roll—letting you feel every inch of him stretch and fill you all over again. "Or do I need to go harder?"

You moaned, “H-harder!”

His eyes darkened with a primal hunger at your plea. A rough sound tore from his throat as he reared back—then slammed into you, hard.

"Fuck—fuck—!" His hands clamped down on your hips, fingers pressing bruises into soft flesh as he pistoned in and out of you with brutal precision. "You take it so damn good."

A bead of sweat trailed down his temple; the room filled with the lewd slap of skin-on-skin and ragged breathing.

Without warning, he flipped onto his back and hauled you atop him—your thighs straddling his waist as he smirked up at ya from beneath hooded lashes. "Ride me.”

The second you took control, his hands flew to your hips, fingers digging into soft flesh as he watched—transfixed—while you bounced on top of him.

"Fuck—yes, just like that," he growled, his voice wrecked. The sight alone was enough to make his vision blur; sweat dripped down his temple as he struggled not to lose it too soon.

"You feel so goddamn good."

His hands were everywhere—roving across your skin in scorching paths that left your nerves singing. His touch was feverish, desperate, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you. He leaned up and captured your mouth in a hard kiss.

"Look at me," he muttered against your lips. His hand came up, fingers grasping your chin and tilting your head back so he could see your face—eyes dark with a primal hunger. "I want to see you fall apart for me, can you do that baby?"

You could only obey, lost in a haze of pleasure. His eyes—God, his eyes—seemed to see straight through you, right into your soul.

The intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear and yet, at the same time, it was what you wanted most, needed in this moment.

You felt exposed, vulnerable, but paradoxically, you also felt safe—known. Loved.

You lean down, Heeseung groaned and met you halfway, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, holding you in place. He kissed you like a man starving, all teeth and tongue—almost desperate in its urgency. His other hand roamed over your body, pulling you impossibly closer until you were pressed flush against him.

"You're so goddamn perfect," he muttered, his breath hot against your mouth. "And mine."

He groaned low in his throat, his body going taut beneath you when he feels you clench around him again.

"You like that, sweetheart?" he chuckled, his hand moving from the nape of your neck down your spine so his fingers could curl over your hip, gripping you tightly.

"That I'm calling you mine? That you belong to me?"

You nod, and he smiles. “Then let’s move on with that, baby. You’re mine. All mine. And I’m yours—Fuck, so tight baby,”

You can feel the tight coil in your stomach about to burst, your moans grow even louder.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice rough with a note of command that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes locked with yours, dark and intent, his expression a heady mix of tender and feral. "Let me see you."

He set a brutal pace, every thrust deep and rough, his hand snaking up to cup your cheek. His thumb traced a line across your lip, the touch almost tender as he watched you—eyes blazing with a mixture of possession and adoration.

And when you fall apart? He’s there to catch you.

Heeseung's eyes shut tight, a guttural cry torn from his lips. The feeling of you surrounding him completely was overwhelming, the intensity sending shudders down his spine.

His hips stuttering beneath you as he chased the high with reckless abandon. His hands clamped down on your waist—fingers bruising—as he drove up into you one final time.

"Fuck!" he snarled, back arching off the bed as pleasure ripped through him in white-hot waves. He spilled inside you in hot pulses, his breath ragged and uneven while sweat dripped from his brow onto your chest.

"...Lord," he muttered dazedly, "You're gonna be the death of me."

You whine in response, too overstimulated and sensitive to reply verbally.

Heeseung let out a shaky laugh, his fingers tracing soft circles over your skin as he tried to catch his breath. He gently maneuvered you off of him, laying you delicately on the bed beside him.

"Sensitive, baby?" he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead as his hand came up to brush the sweat-soaked hair away from your face. He could see the effect he'd had on you, the flush on your cheeks, the faint tremble in your limbs.

“You’re with me? You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” You murmur, dazed with the aftershock and alcohol.

Heeseung's expression softened as he scooped you up effortlessly, his arms strong and steady around you. He carried you to the bathroom with surprising gentleness—no teasing now, just quiet focus on making sure you were taken care of.

"Let me," he murmured when he set your feet down by the toilet. His hands hovered near your waist in case you wobbled before turning to wet a cloth under warm water.

"You did so good for me."

The words sounded almost reverential as he wiped you clean with the cloth. He was careful, tender even, his touch feather-light on your sensitive skin as he took his time making sure every remnant of what they'd done was erased.

"You're so damn beautiful," he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder.

“Let’s get back to bed.”

—

The next morning, a sharp ringing in your head drags you out of sleep—loud, relentless, unforgiving.

You groan, burying your face deeper into the pillow, hoping it’ll stop. It doesn’t.

Your head pounds. Your throat is dry. Your entire body feels heavy, like it’s been weighed down by something you can’t quite name yet.

The alcohol.

Right.

That explains the headache. The dizziness. The way your limbs don’t feel entirely like yours.

But then—

Your eyes snap open.

Memory doesn’t come back all at once. It trickles in. Slow. Dangerous.

The reunion.

The drinks.

The laughter.

Him.

Your stomach drops.

No.

No, no, no—

You push yourself up slightly, wincing as the room spins just a little too much, your heart starting to race for an entirely different reason now.

The dance floor.

His hand on your waist.

Your breath catches.

The cab.

His fingers playing with yours.

His place—

“Oh my god,” you whisper, voice hoarse.

And then it hits you.

The kiss.

The way he thrust up into you.

The way you didn’t stop him.

The way you didn’t want to.

You freeze, every nerve suddenly awake despite the pounding in your head.

Slowly—very, very slowly—you turn your head.

And that’s when it sinks in.

You’re not in your room.

Not your bed.

Not your sheets.

Your grip tightens on the blanket as your eyes scan the unfamiliar space, heart thudding louder with every second.

This is his place.

Which means—

You swallow. Hard.

A soft, hoarse voice from right beside you.

“…You’re awake.”

You freeze.

There he is.

Hair messy, eyes barely open, voice still thick with sleep as he shifts slightly on the bed, one arm tucked under his head. He looks… different like this. Softer. Less composed than last night, but somehow even more real.

Your heart does something dangerous in your chest.

“You’re staring,” he mumbles, a faint, sleepy smile tugging at his lips without even opening his eyes fully.

You immediately look away. “I—no, I wasn’t.”

“…You were,” he murmurs, voice still rough, but there’s amusement in it.

Your face heats up instantly, memories flashing back in fragments that make your stomach flip all over again.

Silence lingers for a moment.

Then—

“You okay?” he asks, quieter this time, a little more awake now.

You hesitate. “…Define okay.”

That gets a soft huff of laughter out of him. He shifts again, turning slightly toward you, propping himself up just enough to look at you properly now.

“Head hurts?”

“…A lot.”

“Yeah,” he nods, like he expected that. “You drank more than you think.”

You groan, dragging a hand over your face. “Please don’t remind me. I’m already regretting my entire existence.”

He watches you for a second—really watches you this time.

And then, softer—

“…Do you regret last night too?”

The question lands heavier than anything else so far.

You go still.

Because suddenly, it’s not just about the headache anymore.

You swallow, forcing yourself to meet his eyes despite the way your chest tightens.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer.

He just looks at you—really looks at you, like he’s been expecting this, like he knew the second you woke up this would be where things go.

“…Yeah,” he says quietly, voice still rough from sleep. “We do.”

The air shifts.

No more teasing. No more distractions. Just the two of you, the morning light creeping in through the curtains, and everything unsaid sitting heavy between you.

You sit up a little, pulling the blanket closer around you, suddenly too aware of everything—your surroundings, him, last night.

“I don’t… fully remember everything,” you admit, glancing away for a second. “I mean—I remember enough. Just… not in order.”

He lets out a small breath, nodding. “Same. Bits and pieces.”

That somehow makes it worse. Or maybe better. You can’t tell.

Your fingers tighten slightly in the blanket. “But I do remember… the important parts.”

His gaze doesn’t leave you. “Yeah?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

Silence stretches for a second, thick but not uncomfortable—just… honest.

Then you exhale. “Look, I just—” you stop, gathering your thoughts, then try again. “Last night wasn’t just… random for me.”

Something flickers in his expression.

“It wasn’t just the alcohol,” you add quickly, like you need him to understand that part most.

He shifts closer, not touching you yet, but close enough that you feel it. “It wasn’t fome either.”

Your heart stumbles.

You look at him again, searching his face for any hint of doubt, hesitation—anything that would make this easier to brush off.

Bu there’s none.

Just that same steady look.

“…Then why,” you ask softly, “did it feel like we were pretending nothing ever happened? All those years?”

He exhales, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Because I didn’t know what to do with it.”

You frown slightly. “With… me?”

“With you. With what you said. With how you looked at me that night,” he admits, quieter now. “I wasn’t rejecting you. I just—wasn’t ready. And you were drunk, and everything was happening so fast…”

Your chest tightens. “So I just… misunderstood everything.”

He shakes his head immediately. “No. I didn’t explain anything either. I just stood there like an idiot while you spiraled.”

You huff out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Wow. Love that for us.”

That earns a faint smile from him.

“But I didn’t forget,” he adds, more serious now. “I just thought… you’d moved on. And I didn’t want to come back and make things messy again.”

You stare at him.

“…Too late for that,” you mumble.

He lets out a quiet laugh, eyes softening. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

Another pause.

This one feels different.

Lighter.

You glance down at your hands, then back at him. “…So what now?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he reaches out—slow, careful—giving you enough time to pull away if you want to.

You don’t.

His fingers wrap gently around yours, warm and steady, grounding in a way that makes your chest ache a little.

He then sat up, while you follow suit.

“(Name),” He started.

“Heeseung.” You reply, a small smile on your face.

“I like you. I have been in love with you, since freshmen year. In fact, since orientation.” He started.

“Wait what?”

“You heard me. For me, it’s always has been you. During that party, I went home and got even more wasted, because I felt stupid for letting you go on and on and I just—stand there…like an ass.”

“Lowkey, you were.”

“And I’m regretful.” He took your hands to his lips, pressing a grounding kiss on it.

“It’s been four years though?”

“May I remind you that a certain someone had been avoiding birthday parties, small hangouts? I even thought you won’t be there last night.”

You look at him sheepishly. “I just—that party really ruined it for me, you know?”

“You regret going last night?”

“Never.”

He smiles, before picking you up, and walk to the shower, peppering soft kisses on your face.

“Then I’m keeping you forever and we’re going to spend today and tomorrow onwards making up for the past four years.”

a/n: i need to stop writing reunion fics LOL

[lovelee-evan]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. — heeseung lee oneshot.

summary. You spend your 20s exactly how you planned it to be—fun, fearless, and unattached. Until your mom introduces you to her old high school friend’s son, who looks exactly like the man you spent one reckless night in another city convincing yourself you’d never see again.

pairing. heeseung x fem!reader

content / warnings. one night stand (flashback, brief), producer!hee, unemployed!reader, the moms are in this, one mention of jungwon, maeumi, nicknames!, protected p in v, oral (fem rec.), riding, nipple play, lmk if i miss anything xx

w.c. 14k

JUNE 2025

“My head’s throbbing.”

You mutter as you drive to your parents house. Your mom mentioned about inviting her old friend over, who lived across the country, in another city saying something about her staying over for a few days.

You sigh at the thought, blaming the pounding in your skull on last night’s cocktails with your girl friends and the tiny hairs still sticking to your damp shirt from a morning shower. You’re not ready for polite family small talk, questions about your job or relationship—or the endless commentary about how “you should really be settling down.”

You pull over your parents’ street, already noticing a whole luggage outside the house.

“Seems like she’s here.” You mutter to yourself, as you got out the car, quickly looking at the mirror to make yourself presentable, and totally not hangover.

Grabbing your bag, you try to summon your most convincing “I’m totally together” expression. If your mom’s friend was anything like she described, this was going to be a lot of chatter, a lot of smiles, and probably a few pointed questions about your love life that you weren’t ready to answer.

You knock on the door. “I’m home!” you annouce, and almost immediately, you hear your mom’s footsteps scampering over to open it. You chuckle at her cuteness—always so excited to see you, even when you barely had your life together.

“Finally!” she exclaimes, practically dragging you inside. “You’re just in time—she’s already here!”

You groan inwardly, bracing yourself for endless small talk and awkward introductions, but couldn’t help smiling at your mom’s enthusiasm.

When you came inside the house, in the living room, a middle-aged lady—seemingly the same age as your mom—sits on the couch, her posture polite but relaxed. She looks around with a warm smile that could make anyone feel immediately welcome, though your hungover brain mostly registered her as an interruption to your carefully curated morning recovery.

“She must be Mrs. Lee,” you say, glancing at your mom, who was practically glowing with excitement. You couldn’t help but grin despite yourself—your mom always had a way of lighting up a room, and apparently, it was contagious.

“Oh, my, she had grown up to be such a fine young lady!” Mrs. Lee greets with a smile, hugging you warmly.

You return the hug with a polite squeeze, your head still pounding from last night and your brain screaming too early for this kind of energy. “Thank you,” you mutter, secretly hoping your slightly messy hair and damp shirt weren’t too obvious.

“I’ve been telling her so much about you!” your mom chimes in, practically beaming. “All good things, of course.”

You smile faintly, wondering exactly how much she had told her friend about your chaotic, fun-filled nights out with friends—and mentally prepare yourself for a gentle roasting session disguised as small talk.

But Mrs. Lee just look at you softly, a motherly smile plastered on her face, as if she could see right through all the bravado you were trying to put on. It was the kind of smile that made you feel both warm and a little… exposed.

“What about your boy, Lee?” Your mom asks and Mrs. Lee claps her hands as if remembering a completely important detail.

“Right, right!” She laughs. “I told him to buy us some fruits at the supermarket! We can’t stay here and come empty-handed.” She smiles, in which your mom joking hits her arm. “What a hassle! But, thank you anyway,”

Mrs. Lee looks over to you. “I feel like you and my son could be such good friends too!” She grins, in which you awkwardly smile.

Great.

Another one of your mom’s friends trying to set you up with their good-for-nothing sons.

“Honey, help her get her luggage inside!” Your mom says, walking to the kitchen, already arms in arms with Mrs. Lee. You nod before walking towards the entrance.

That’s when you heard a car pull up outside.

The sound of tires against the pavement cut through the room, followed by the soft thud of a door closing. Your mom glanced toward the window almost instinctively, her face lighting up even more than before.

“Oh, perfect timing,” you can hear Mrs. Lee’s voice from inside. “That must be Heeseung!”

You decide to pay no mind to it, as you walked over to carry her luggage.

“Shit, what does she pack in here?”

“Clothes enough for two weeks.” A voice answers your little mutter to yourself.

A familiar one—deep, oh so soft, and far too recognizable—making your breath hitch as you stand straight.

“Do you feel good? Am I making you feel good?”

“Let go for me, baby.”

Your mind suddenly betrayed you, replaying the words spoken in that same voice two months ago—back when you’d been careless, impulsive, and not so smart.

Heat rushed to your face as the memory collided with this current moment. You turn to look and there he was, still wearing the soft eyes you had been so enchanted by that night.

Evan. Evan Lee. At least that’s what he introduced himself as.

The same eyes that had studied you under dim hotel lights now widened, just barely, before masking it with something polite and unreadable.

Mrs. Lee came out before you could even say anything, her voice bright and proud as she introduced you. You barely registered the words, too focused on the way he straightened beside her.

He nodded, polite and distant, the kind of courtesy reserved for strangers. “Nice to meet you,” he said smoothly, without a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

Then he smiled—easy, effortless—before turning to follow his mom into the house. He picked up her luggage, handling it with practiced care as he walked past you, close enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne.

He didn’t even glance back.

So he didn’t remember.

You had both been drunk that night, after all.

…

Dinner is already laid out by the time everyone gathers around the dining table a few hours later. The familiar smell of your mom’s cooking fills the room—warm, comforting, painfully normal for a moment that feels anything but.

You take a seat near the edge of the table, choosing distance over comfort. Across from you, Heeseung pulls out his chair and sits down smoothly, posture relaxed, expression polite. To anyone else, he’s just a guest—your mom’s friend’s son, well-mannered and quiet.

To you, he’s the man whose voice still lingers in the back of your mind—whose hands had memorized you in the dark, whose lips had left impressions you were foolish enough to think time would erase.

Conversation flows easily between your mom and Mrs. Lee, laughter spilling over shared memories from high school, old teachers, stories you’ve heard a hundred times before. You nod at the right moments, pushing food around your plate, forcing yourself to eat despite the tight knot in your stomach.

“So, Heeseung,” your mom says brightly, turning to him, “Are you okay with the spare room? Her brother hasn’t been home since his marriage, and she doesn’t want to give her childhood room for guests,” Your mom turns to you and snickers.

“That’s because I visit you and dad all the time, I still need a room here.” You groan softly, while Mrs. Lee laughs.

“Yes, ma’am. The room is just nice. Very well-kept.” Heeseung smiles at her.

“Well, that’s good,” she continues. “By the way, you two are around the same age. You should show him around a bit, don’t you think? This isn’t a city he always comes by.”

Your grip tightens around your utensils.

Before you can answer, Heeseung looks up—briefly, carefully—meeting your eyes for the first time since earlier. There’s no recognition on his face. No spark. Just polite interest.

“If she’s free,” he says simply.

If you’re free.

You force a smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”

The lie settles between you, heavy and unspoken.

Under the table, his foot shifts slightly—close enough to make your breath hitch, close enough to make you wonder if it’s accidental. He still doesn’t look at you. Still doesn’t acknowledge the past.

But your body remembers a different name.

And for the first time since he walked past you without a second glance, you realize something unsettling.

Heeseung might not remember you.

But Evan would have.

After dinner, the house settles into silence faster than you expect.

Laughter fades. Doors close softly. The hallway light dims until only a thin strip glows beneath bedroom doors. You lie awake longer than you should, staring at the ceiling you’ve known your whole life, listening to the unfamiliar rhythm of another presence in the house.

You tell yourself it’s nothing.

Just an old insignificant memory overstaying its welcome.

Eventually, thirst wins.

You slip out of bed, careful not to let the floorboards creak, padding your way toward the kitchen. The house smells faintly of detergent and leftover dinner, comforting in a way that almost makes you forget why your chest feels tight.

Almost.

The kitchen light is already on.

You freeze in the doorway.

Heeseung stands by the counter, sleeves rolled up, a glass of water in his hand. His hair is slightly tousled now, stripped of the careful neatness he wore earlier. He looks… different. More real. More like the man you left sleeping behind hotel curtains two months ago.

He looks up when he hears you.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake anyone.”

“You didn’t,” you reply, voice steadier than you feel. “I just—couldn’t sleep.”

He nods, accepting that without question. No tension. No recognition. Or maybe too much control to show either.

You grab a glass from the cupboard, deliberately choosing the one farthest from him. The tap runs. Too loud in the silence. You focus on the sound, on anything but the awareness of him standing only a few feet away.

“Your mom’s cooking was really good,” he says after a moment. “She didn’t exaggerate.”

You let out a small breath of a laugh. “She always does that.”

A pause.

Then, softer, almost absent-minded: “You mentioned earlier you don’t live here?”

“Not anymore,” you answer. “I moved to my own apartment a year ago.”

“Oh,” he says.

The word hangs between you.

You take a sip of water, finally glancing at him. He isn’t looking at you—his attention fixed on the counter, jaw relaxed, expression unreadable. If he remembers, he gives nothing away. If he doesn’t, then this ease is genuine.

You hate that you can’t tell which one hurts more.

“Well,” you murmur, setting the glass down. “Good night.”

He looks up then, meeting your eyes fully for the first time since dinner.

“Good night,” he says.

Still nothing. No crack in his voice. No hesitation. Just calm, polite distance.

You walk past him toward the hallway, careful not to brush his arm, careful not to slow your steps. Behind you, you hear him turn off the light.

In the darkness of your room, you lie awake again—heart louder now, thoughts sharper.

You were the one who left that morning.

You were the one who chose silence.

And yet somehow, standing in your parent’s kitchen, it feels like he’s the one holding all the control.

…

Morning comes too soon.

Sunlight filters through the curtains, thin and pale, landing across your face like an accusation. For a moment, you forget where you are—until the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen reminds you that you’re back in your parents’ house. And that you aren’t alone.

You sit up slowly, rubbing at your temples. The night had offered no answers. Just silence, politeness, and the unbearable calm of not knowing.

By the time you make it to the kitchen, your mom is already bustling around, apron tied, hair pulled back. Mrs. Lee sits at the table, sipping tea, looking far too refreshed for someone who traveled across the country.

“Morning,” your mom chirps when she sees you. “Perfect timing.”

You hum in response, reaching for a glass of water.

“Could you help Mrs. Yang walk her dog later?” she continues casually. “You remember—next door. You used to do it all the time when you lived here. Besides, litte Jungwon is in Uni now, so no one is there to help her.”

You pause.

“Maeum? Yeah,” you say. “I can do that.”

Mrs. Lee’s face lights up. “Walking outside right now would be so refreshing,” she says warmly. Then, almost as an afterthought, she turns toward the hallway. “Heeseung!”

Your stomach tightens at the sound of his name.

He appears a moment later, sleeves rolled up again, hair still slightly damp like he’s just washed his face. He looks… awake. Calm. Completely unaffected. “Hm?”

“You should go with her,” Mrs. Lee says easily. “It’ll be good for you to get some fresh air after traveling.”

Heeseung blinks once, then nods. “Sure.”

Sure.

Your mom smiles, clearly pleased. “Perfect! Two birds with one stone.” You force a smile of your own, even as your pulse starts to pick up. “Yeah. No problem.”

Heeseung glances at you—not searching, not curious. Just attentive.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says.

As you step outside together a few minutes later, the morning air feels too crisp, too quiet. The street looks the same as it always has. Familiar. Safe.

And yet, walking side by side with him, you’re painfully aware of the space between you—and how little it would take to close it.

You’re the one who left. It’s a one-night stand.

You remind yourself of that as you head toward the neighbor’s gate.

So why does it feel like this walk might be the first step toward something you can’t walk away from again.

Heeseung kneels slightly as Maeum charges toward him, tail wagging like it could knock him over.

“He’s… lively,” he says, keeping his voice casual as Maeum circles him, sniffing, then jumping up in excitement. A low chuckle escapes him, and you feel your chest tighten unexpectedly.

“Yeah, Maeum’s a handful,” you reply, gripping the leash before he decides to chase a squirrel or something worse. “But he’s harmless… mostly.”

Heeseung brushes a hand along Maeum’s back. “Mostly is good.”

Maeum barks happily, spinning between the two of you. There’s a brief moment where the dog seems to notice the tension radiating off both of you, but of course, he can’t name it.

“Shall we get going?” you ask, starting toward the sidewalk.

Heeseung falls into step beside you, careful not to crowd, careful not to overstep. Close enough to notice the little things: the way you tense when Maeum yanks, the faint crease in your brow, the subtle sway of your hair in the morning sun.

The street is quiet. Early birds call from the trees. Leaves rustle under your shoes. Maeum dashes ahead, then back, sniffing everything in sight.

“So…” you begin, trying to sound casual, “long drive yesterday?”

He shrugs. “Enough to make me remember why I prefer flights.”

You laugh softly. “Fair enough. It is kind of chaos on the road here sometimes.”

Silence falls for a few steps, filled only with Maeum’s padding and your own heartbeat.

Then Maeum stops abruptly, sniffing at a patch of grass right between you and Heeseung. The leash jerks. You stumble forward slightly, and his hand reaches out before you can think, steadying you.

Fingertips brush.

A fleeting touch—but it’s enough. Enough to spark memory, enough to make your stomach twist.

Heeseung doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t say a word. He takes Maeum’s leash and keeps walking.

And that’s the worst part.

Because whether he remembers—or is pretending—you have no idea.

And it leaves the quiet hanging between you like a question that refuses to be answered.

Maeum slows near the corner, distracted by something only he seems to find interesting. You stop with him, shifting your weight as you wait.

Your fingers curl in on themselves without you noticing.

A slow fist.

Tight enough that your nails press into your palm.

Heeseung’s gaze drops.

Not immediately. Not obviously.

But it lingers just long enough.

“You do that often,” he says.

You look up. “Do what?”

He nods toward your hand. “That.”

You follow his eyes, startled, and force your fingers open. Faint crescent marks bloom red against your skin.

“Oh,” you say lightly. “I guess I clench my hand when I’m waiting.”

“Or when you’re holding back,” he replies, tone even. Too even.

The street feels quieter suddenly.

You laugh, trying to brush it off. “You’re very observant.” He doesn’t smile. Not quite.

“Hard not to notice,” he says.

And just like that—

Your mind betrays you.

Dim light. Your back against unfamiliar sheets.

His voice low, close, asking something you can’t quite remember the words to—only the way your hand had curled then too, nails biting into your palm as you nodded instead of answering.

You remember looking down afterward.

The half-moon marks.

The way he’d gently pried your fingers open, thumb brushing over the indents like he was committing them to memory.

The leash tugs.

You blink, pulled back into the morning air, the quiet street, Maeum wagging his tail impatiently.

Heeseung is already looking ahead again, expression unreadable.

“You good?” he asks, as if nothing had happened.

You nod, heart racing, and start walking again.

But your palm still tingles.

Both of you continue walking with Maeum tugging on his leash once in a while, before stopping infront of a convenient store near the park.

“I’ll buy us drinks, anything you like?” He asks. You look at him as you shake your head. “Anything’s fine.”

He nods, entering the store while you wait outside while Maeum settles at your feet. Through the glass, you watch him move with easy familiarity— scanning the shelves without hesitation.

He came out a few minutes later with two drinks in his hand. Americano for him, and another for you.

Green Grape Ade.

“Green Grape Ade?” His voice rings in the loud bar music, looking at you with precise judgement, while you mockingly glare at him.

“What’s wrong with it?” You ask, voice slightly loud trying to drown out the music at the bar. He smiles.

“You’re original.” He clinks his glass againts yours, the ice chiming softly over the music.

“I just prefer sour drinks. Especially from the convenient store.” You drink as your gaze turn to him. He’s already staring at you.

He hums. “That’s why your face so sour?” He teases in which you gasp, mock-offense.

He laughs, before shaking his head. “That was a lie. You might just be the sweetest girl I’ve ever met.”

The memory fades as quickly as it came.

You’re back outside the convenience store, the morning air cool against your skin. The bottle in your hand is cold, condensation slick against your fingers.

Heeseung is already walking ahead with Maeum, Americano in hand, posture relaxed like he hasn’t just reached into something you never gave him permission to keep.

You take a sip. It tastes exactly how you like it. How you were imagining it when you were admant on telling Heeseung or Evan it was your favourite at the bar.

And for the first time since you woke up that morning, you wonder if leaving first had really meant leaving anything behind at all.

You catch up to them, glancing at Heeseung. He has a questionable smug look on his face.

“What?” You ask. He shrugs before looking at you.

“I have a lot of things I remember about you.”

…

A few hours pass.

The afternoon drifts by slowly, measured in the ticking of the clock and the occasional sound of movement elsewhere in the house. You spend most of it in your room, half-lying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone without really reading anything.

Every so often, you hear his voice. Muted through the walls. Calm. Easy. Laughing lightly at something your mom says.

It shouldn’t bother you, but it does.

When hunger finally wins over avoidance, the sun is already dipping lower in the sky. The house smells faintly of reheated food, warm and familiar. You take a breath before leaving your room, practicing a neutral expression in the mirror.

The kitchen is quieter now. You’re just about to turn the corner toward the kitchen when you hear your mom speak.

“…She’s been a little off today,” she says, voice gentle. “Probably tired. Or avoiding something.”

You pause without meaning to. Heeseung answers after a beat. “She does that.”

Your chest tightens instantly.

Your mom chuckles softly. “Does what?”

“Pulls back,” he says, careful. “When she doesn’t know how to react yet.”

Silence. Then the faint clink of a spoon against a bowl. “You sound like you know her pretty well,” your mom says lightly.

Another pause. Short. Measured.

“I had an impression,” Heeseung replies. “A while ago.”

An impression.

Your fingers curl at your side.

“Huh,” your mom hums. “That’s funny. She actually does leaves impressions on people,”

There’s a smile in Heeseung’s voice when he answers. “Yeah. She does.”

Your mom moves on easily, talking about dinner, about how long Mrs. Lee plans to stay. The conversation drifts, harmless again.

But you don’t move because impressions aren’t made in passing. They’re made when someone sees you up close. When you let them.

You step back quietly, retreating before either of them can notice you there. Back in your room, you sit down slowly, heart still racing.

He didn’t say you’d met.

He didn’t say when.

But he didn’t say you were strangers either. And somehow, that middle ground feels far more dangerous.

A soft knock echoes through your room a few minutes later.

“Hey… you awake?” Heeseung’s voice—calm, controlled, but just close enough to make your heart stutter.

You freeze. Your chest tightens, your pulse spiking. Act normal. Just act like you weren’t eavesdropping.

You smooth your hair with a trembling hand, blink rapidly, and open the door. “Yeah… just woke up,” you say, voice a little too bright, trying to sound casual.

Heeseung steps into the doorway, just enough to glance around your room. His eyes flick over you—not accusatory, not teasing—just aware. The way he looks at you makes the air between you feel suddenly heavy, like it’s charged with electricity you both can’t ignore.

“Your mom’s calling,” he says softly. “Everything’s ready.”

You nod quickly, gripping the doorframe as if it can anchor you. “I’m… not that hungry,” you murmur.

Heeseung tilts his head, that faint, knowing curve of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Uh-huh,” he replies, voice smooth, steady, and sharp enough to cut through your attempts at calm.

You step aside, but your foot catches on the edge of the rug. You curse under your breath, forcing a laugh. Too loud. Too sharp.

He doesn’t comment. He doesn’t need to. The silence itself feels deliberate, heavy. The space between you is so tight that you feel him even when he doesn’t touch you.

“I’ll be eating downstairs,” he finally says, straightening, eyes lingering just long enough to make your stomach clench.

“Okay… see you there,” you say, breath uneven, heart hammering.

He nods once, easily, and leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

The click echoes like a verdict.

You press your back against the door, sliding down slowly, hands trembling.

He knows I was listening.

He remembers… more than he should.

And he didn’t say a word.

The thought alone makes your stomach twist.

You straighten abruptly, forcing yourself to move. Down the stairs. To the dining room. To the table.

Every step is a battle between calm and the chaos churning under your skin.

Because you know tonight, nothing is going to feel casual. Not with him. Not after this.

The whole time during dinner, you caught him staring at you. Shamelessly at that, gave you a sheepish smile when you eye him suspiciously. He’d move his leg closer to yours, it’ll bump a few times, but he doesn’t pull away.

After dinner, you volunteer on doing the dishes. Your mom and Mrs. Lee’s voices fade into the living room, laughter and chatter blending together.

You take a steadying breath and move to the sink, rolling up your sleeves. Warm water runs over your hands, steam curling around your wrists. For a second, it almost feels normal. Almost.

Then you sense him before you hear him.

Heeseung steps beside you, quiet as a shadow. You tense instantly, shoulders stiff, fingers tightening around a plate.

“Need some help?” he asks softly, tilting his head. Not teasing, not accusing. Just calm, measured.

“I’ve got it,” you reply quickly, eyes trained on the suds, forcing the tone casual.

He doesn’t insist. He simply picks up a stray plate, moving closer than necessary, letting his hands brush yours ever so slightly as he rinses it. You flinch, heart hammering, but he doesn’t comment, doesn’t linger. Just present.

The silence stretches, heavy, almost oppressive. Every splash of water, every clink of a dish, echoes too loudly.

You scrub a pan a little harder than needed, trying to focus on anything else—the warmth of the water, the smell of garlic, the mundane rhythm of washing—but his quiet presence keeps threading through every thought.

He moves another plate, sets it down. Your hands brush again.

You feel your pulse spike, your chest tightening. Every subtle movement, every glance he doesn’t make—it’s all charged, all deliberate.

The kitchen is small. Empty. Safe. Except it isn’t. Not with him here.

You swallow hard, scrubbing away your nerves as the quiet stretches on, aware that he notices everything, even the things you think he can’t.

And somehow, that makes it impossible to breathe normally.

The sponge squeaks softly as you scrub, the rhythm steady but your thoughts anything but. You’re just about to reach for another plate when he speaks again.

“You know,” Heeseung says, evenly, like he’s commenting on the weather, “you’re not very good at pretending.”

Your hand stills.

“…Pretending what?” you ask, eyes fixed on the sink.

“That you weren’t listening earlier.” He sets a plate onto the rack, movements unhurried. “In the hallway.”

Your chest tightens. You swallow. “I wasn’t—”

He cuts you off gently. “You were.” Not accusing. Just factual. “You always stop breathing when you do that, though your eyes give it away, that you’re pretending everything’s fine.”

That makes your fingers curl instinctively around the sponge.

You let out a short laugh, more defensive than amused. “You don’t know what I ‘always’ do.”

He glances at your hand, then back to the dish he’s drying. “I know because I’ve seen it before.”

You twist the dish towel in your hands, knuckles whitening. The quiet stretches too long, presses too hard against your ribs.

“Are we really doing this?” You snap, turning to look at him directly.

He raises his eyebrows, “Do what?”

You gesture vaguely between the two of you, before sighing. “Implying things happened, without really saying it?”

He watches you for a second, expression unreadable—not defensive, not amused. Just… attentive.

“I’m not implying,” he says evenly. “You are.”

That only makes your chest tighten.

You scoff, turning back to the sink and reaching for another plate you definitely don’t need to wash. “Right. Of course. Because I’m the one who keeps bringing up impressions and ‘remembering’ and—whatever this is.”

He lets out a quiet breath, more tired than annoyed. “I brought it up once.”

“And you’ve been hovering ever since,” you shoot back, voice sharp but not loud. “So tell me—are we pretending we don’t know each other, or are we circling around it until I crack?” The words hang between you.

He sets the towel down, slow, deliberate. “I’m not trying to crack you.”

“Then what do you want?” you ask, finally facing him again.

He meets your gaze, steady. No smile. No games. “I wanted to know if you leaving meant what I thought it did,” he says simply.

Your throat tightens. “And what did you think it meant, Evan?”

His breath hitches at the usage of his other name, “That you didn’t want to stay,” he replies. “Not just that morning. In general.”

You laugh softly, but it’s brittle. “It’s a one-night stand.”

He nods once. “It is, but I clearly told you before we fell asleep, that I’d prefer you staying.”

Silence settles again, thicker now. The kitchen light hums overhead. Somewhere in the living room, your mom and Mrs. Lee laugh at something on TV.

“I didn’t leave because of you,” you say finally, quieter. “I left because staying would’ve made it… complicated.”

His jaw tightens just a fraction. “And now?”

You hesitate. “Now it already is.”

He holds your gaze for a long moment, then exhales slowly. “Yeah,” he says. “It is.”

Neither of you move back to the dishes, he wipes the last plate before walking out of the kitchen.

APRIL 2025

The room is dim, lit only by the city glow slipping through the curtains. Everything feels slower, warmer—like the night hasn’t quite caught up with you yet.

You’re tangled in the sheets, limbs heavy, head resting against the pillow. Your skin is still buzzing, your thoughts pleasantly loose around the edges. Somewhere nearby, Heeseung shifts, the mattress dipping slightly as he turns onto his side.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low, a little rough around the edges.

You hum, half-laughing into the pillow. “I think so. Might need a minute to remember my name.”

He chuckles softly. “Fair.”

The pause lingers, easy and unforced. The city light paints soft lines across the ceiling, and for a moment, neither of you moves.

You’re the one who breaks it first.

“Evan,” you say, voice lazy, still warm with alcohol and comfort. “What do you actually do when you’re not… here?”

He exhales a quiet laugh, turning his head slightly toward you. “That’s a loaded question.”

You smile into the pillow. “I’m serious. You feel like someone with a very normal answer and a very complicated explanation.”

He considers that. “I work in the music industry. Producing. It sounds fancier than it is.”

“Everything sounds fancier at night,” you mumble. “Especially after drinks.”

“True,” he agrees. Then, after a beat, “What about you?”

You shrug, the sheets rustling. “Still figuring it out. I bounce around a lot, job-hunting.”

He smiles and run his hand on your hair, as if wanting to see your face clearly. “You’re tense, like there’s a lot going on here.” He softly taps on your temple.

You huff a quiet laugh, eyes fluttering shut at the gentle touch. “Is that your professional opinion?” you murmur. “Because I didn’t realize producers did mind-reading too.”

He chuckles, thumb brushing lightly through your hair, unhurried. “Not mind-reading. Just… paying attention.”

You turn your face toward him then, cheek sinking deeper into the pillow. “There’s always a lot going on,” you admit. “I just don’t like sitting still long enough to sort it out.”

“Why not?” he asks, not pushing—just curious.

You think about it for a moment, gaze drifting to the ceiling. “Because if I do, I might realize I’m not as put-together as I pretend to be.”

He hums softly, fingers still tracing slow, absent patterns. “That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mumble. “You seem like you’ve got things… handled.”

He smiles faintly. “I’m good at looking like I do.”

You glance back at him. “Really?”

“Really,” he says. “I just learned how to keep the chaos quiet.”

That earns a small smile from you. “Guess we’re not that different then.”

“Guess not,” he replies.

The room settles again, the air warm and slow. His hand stays in your hair, grounding, gentle—like he’s in no rush to let the moment slip away.

Neither of you says it, but the thought hangs there between you, soft and dangerous all at once:

This feels easy.

Too easy.

He pulls you closer, lips pressing on your temple as he sighs.

“I’d love it if you stay.”

And you felt your heart breaks a little when you doze off.

…

Three days.

Three days until he leaves.

And for the past two, he hasn’t said a word to you.

You can feel it in every glance across the kitchen, every step in the hall, every time the front door opens and closes. He’s there, moving around the house, calm and composed as ever, but the silence between you? It’s deafening.

You try to keep yourself busy—laundry, dishes, scrolling mindlessly through your phone—but the tension follows you everywhere. Even sitting in your room, pretending to read, you can hear him talking to your mom in the living room, laugh light and easy, and it makes your chest tighten.

Your mom insists on taking Mrs. Lee and Heeseung to the city’s famous park for a “little sightseeing and fresh air,” and somehow, you’re drafted along.

“Come on,” your mom says, practically bouncing. “You’ll enjoy it! The weather’s perfect, and it’s not a usual thing that we all went out together!”

So here you are, in Heeseung’s car with your moms at the back chatting mindlessly, pointing out shops, telling stories, laughing easily, while you sit in the passenger’s seat and him driving beside you.

He doesn’t say much, just drives with that calm, effortless composure that makes your stomach twist in ways you’re not ready to name. Your mom and Mrs. Lee chatter nonstop behind you, oblivious to the tight coil of nerves in the seat beside him.

You glance at him occasionally, catching his profile in the sunlight, the way his hands rest lightly on the wheel, the faint line of concentration in his jaw. He doesn’t meet your eyes, but you can feel the awareness there, quiet, unspoken, like a weight pressing just enough to make you swallow hard.

“I hope you like walking,” your mom says suddenly from the back, as if reading your tension, “the park’s beautiful this time of year. Lots of trees, fountains—perfect for photos!”

“Yeah,” you murmur, keeping your voice neutral, though your chest is still tight.

Heeseung hums softly, not answering but shifting slightly in his seat, just enough that you notice.

The car slows, pulling into the park lot. Sunlight streams through the windshield, glinting off the pavement and the scattered autumn leaves. Your mom practically leaps out first, Mrs. Lee following close behind, both chattering excitedly.

You take a deep breath, adjusting your bag, and slide out of the car. Heeseung steps out after you, calm and measured, slipping into the rhythm of the park like he belongs there—yet you feel every step he takes, each one a quiet reminder that the past two days of silence haven’t lessened the tension between you.

As the group moves along the tree-lined path, your mom and Mrs. Lee wander ahead, comparing flowers and pointing out fountains. Heeseung falls in step beside you, hands tucked into his pockets, walking slightly behind but close enough that you can feel the space between you shrinking.

“Nice day,” he says finally, casual.

“Yeah,” you reply, voice careful. “Not too crowded either.”

He hums softly, and you feel that subtle glance he throws your way—quick, unobtrusive, but enough to make your stomach twist again.

The silence between words is heavy, but not hostile. It’s loaded. Sharp. And as you continue along the winding paths of the park, you realize these three days—and these stolen moments in the quiet—might be harder than anything you expected.

You barely get a chance to say more to him before your mom is already digging through her bag.

“Phone—where’s my phone?” she mutters, then brightens. “Oh! There it is.”

Mrs. Lee laughs beside her. “You’re just as excited as ever.”

“Of course I am,” your mom says. “When do we ever get everyone together like this?”

Everyone.

You glance at Heeseung without meaning to. He’s still looking around, taking the place in quietly, like he’s memorizing it. First time here. First time seeing your city like this.

“Alright,” your mom says, raising her phone. “Group photo first.”

You shuffle closer, standing beside Mrs. Lee. Heeseung ends up at the edge, half a step apart from you, hands in his pockets.

“Wait, no,” your mom frowns. “Heeseung, come closer. You’re getting cut out.”

He obeys, stepping in just enough that his shoulder brushes yours—brief, accidental, but it sends a jolt through you anyway.

Click.

“Again,” Mrs. Lee says. “That one was blurry.”

You barely have time to reset before your mom adds, “Okay, now just you two.”

“What?” you and Heeseung say at the same time.

“It’s nice to have one of the younger generation,” your mom insists. “For memories.”

You exchange a quick glance with him—too quick to mean anything, too loaded to be nothing.

“Just stand there and act normal!” your mom says.

Easier said than done.

You stand side by side this time, not touching, but close enough that you’re aware of his presence—his warmth, the way he’s careful not to move too suddenly.

“Smile,” your mom sings.

You do. Heeseung offers something polite, restrained.

Click.

“That’s nice,” Mrs. Lee says warmly. “You both look good.”

You almost laugh at that.

As your mom reviews the photos, muttering happily to herself, you step back without thinking. Heeseung does the same.

You don’t make it five steps more into the park before your mom stops again.

“Wait—stand there,” she says, already lifting her phone. “The trees look really nice from this angle.”

Mrs. Lee nods enthusiastically. “Oh yes, the lighting is beautiful.”

You exchange a look with Heeseung. Not a look—just a flicker. A silent here we go.

Click.

You start walking again. Ten steps this time.

“Oh!” your mom gasps. “The fountain—Heeseung, you’ll love this. You two, go stand near it.”

“We just took one,” you say weakly. “That was over there,” she replies, like it explains everything.

So you move again, standing side by side while people pass behind you. Heeseung keeps his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, expression neutral. You keep your arms crossed, suddenly very aware of where you’re standing.

Click. Click.

Mrs. Lee laughs. “You look very natural together.”

You almost choke on air.

The walk continues. The photos do too.

By the flower beds.

Near the bridge.

In front of the pond.

Each time, your mom adjusts angles, steps back, waves you closer, tells you to smile more, tilt your head, stand straighter.

“You don’t have to look so tense,” she tells you at one point.

You laugh, tight. “I’m fine.”

Heeseung glances at you then, quick and unreadable.

At some point, he murmurs quietly, just for you, “If we keep this up, we’ll have enough photos for a family album.”

You blink, surprised.

“…I’m sorry,” you mutter. “She gets like this.”

He hums. “I noticed.”

There’s no edge in his voice. No teasing. Just observation.

Another photo.

Your shoulder brushes his this time, accidental. Neither of you move away immediately.

Click.

“Perfect!” your mom says.

You step away first.

The walk goes on, but your nerves don’t settle. If anything, they tighten with every forced smile, every staged moment, every second you’re made to look like something you’re very much not.

And the worst part?

Heeseung never once complains.

He just keeps walking beside you—calm, composed—letting the photos pile up like quiet evidence of something neither of you is ready to name.

You make it halfway up the stone path before it happens.

“Wait—wait, *here*,” your mom says suddenly, already lifting her phone again. “This spot is perfect. The water, the rocks—very scenic.”

You glance down at where she’s pointing and feel a flicker of hesitation. The stones near the edge of the stream are uneven, damp from the spray of the fountain nearby. The drop isn’t dramatic, but it’s enough to make you cautious.

“I don’t think that’s—” you start.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Mrs. Lee says cheerfully. “Just be careful.”

Famous last words.

You step forward anyway, because of course you do. Because this is not the hill you’re dying on today.

Heeseung follows a step behind you, quiet as always.

“Stand just there,” your mom says, framing the shot. “Yes, yes—perfect.”

You shift your weight slightly to adjust your footing.

And then your shoe slips.

It happens fast—too fast for you to catch yourself. One second you’re steady, the next the ground tilts and your stomach drops, breath punching out of you as you instinctively reach for anything.

Strong hands grab your arm.

Another slides to your waist, firm and immediate, pulling you back before you can even gasp.

You stumble—not forward, not down—but straight into him.

Your back hits his chest, solid and warm, his grip tightening just enough to keep you upright. For half a second, you’re frozen there, heart racing, fingers clutching at his sleeve.

He’s close. Too close.

You can feel his breath near your ear, feel the tension in his hold, the way his body adjusts automatically to steady yours.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, voice low—meant only for you.

You nod, a little too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, I—thanks.”

He doesn’t let go immediately.

Just long enough to make sure you’re steady.

Just long enough for the moment to stretch thin and dangerous.

“Careful,” he murmurs, almost instinctively.

Then—click.

“Oh my goodness!” your mom exclaims. “That was scary! But—oh, wait. Hold on.”

You stiffen.

“That one looked nice,” Mrs. Lee says, peering at the phone. “Very… natural.”

You finally step away, cheeks burning, suddenly very aware of how his hands had been on you, how easily he’d caught you, how familiar it felt in a way that made your chest ache.

Heeseung straightens too, composure snapping back into place like nothing happened. Hands back in his pockets. Expression calm.

But when you dare glance at him, his eyes linger on you just a second longer than necessary.

Your mom laughs. “See? Good thing he was there. You’d have fallen otherwise.”

“Yeah,” you say, forcing a laugh. “Good thing.”

The walk continues, the photos continue, but something has shifted.

Your heart doesn’t slow down.

And every time Heeseung walks just a little closer after that, you can’t tell if it’s accidental—

—or if he’s making sure you won’t fall again.

…

After dinner, you decide to hog the living room all by yourself, continue binge watching another C-drama you have postponed watching for the longest time.

It’s almost midnight, the moms had already wished you goodnight. You smile to yourself at the very well-earned time to yourself.

Or not?

Heeseung appears at the bottom, slightly disheveled, hair tousled like he’s just run a hand through it one too many times. He’s in simple grey sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt, the kind that clings just enough to show he didn’t bother thinking about how he looked.

His eyes are still half-lidded with sleep as they settle on the TV screen, expression calm.

He looks at you, before taking a seat.

“I watched this one.” He says softly. Voice hoarse with sleep.

“No spoilers, please.” You says, turning away to look at the TV. He laughs.

“Nothing to extreme, it’s a rom-com. Nothing can be a spoiler.” You clutch your heart, dramatically looking at him.

He shrugs. “What? It’s true. You know in the end they end up together.”

You sigh, leaning back. “Well, true that.” He lean back too, making your shoulders touch.

“Why did you wake up?” I look at him. “It’s barely midnight.”

“Can’t sleep. I mean, I kept waking up.” He replies, fingers tapping on his thigh. You nod, continue watching the romantic scenes on the TV.

“You enjoy stuffs like these?” He asks, not looking at you.

“Anything feel-good is enjoyable.”

“So the concept of romance, you like it?” He asks, carefully.

“Where are you going with this?” You look at him, eyes narrowing. He meets your gaze, his expression looking more earnest.

“Just wondering, if you’d like it in real life too.”

You scoff. “You and your nonstop bull—“

“Is it bullshit, really?” He asks, seriously this time. You felt your heart beating fast, you look away, just anywhere. Not sure where to look when he’s all up in your space like this.

“Evan.” You started,

“No, let me tell you this.” He straighten up, body now fully facing you, as he look directlt into your eyes.

“I’m sorry if I ever come up as pushy, talking about you with your mom, hinting at our past to her, making you feel things you don’t like, that wasn’t my intention.” He winces.

“I just…I just wanted to get to know you, really look at you. No dim lights of the bar, no dark night sky as we walk back to some hotel, and certainly no dark hotel room where I spent the whole night feeling good with the woman I knew nothing about.” He sighs.

“It’s just a one night stand, I get it.” He scoffs, “but what if I told you that I wanted more? That I regret waking up without your presence the next morning, how every sound you let out that night made me fantasize the sounds you’d make if it wasn’t casual?”

At this point, you were looking at him speechless. You’re not trusting your voice right now.

“Evan—“

“Heeseung.” He corrects. “Evan saw you first, but Heeseung fell for you.”

You fall silent again. Just staring at him like he didn’t just pour his heart out while you’re watching some corny C-drama.

“Say something. Anything.”

The TV continues playing, characters confessing under scripted rain.

But this?

This isn’t scripted.

And you’re not sure which feels scarier.

Your throat feels tight.

The drama’s background music swells dramatically, the male lead on screen confessing under artificial rain, but it feels distant—like white noise compared to the very real, very raw man sitting inches away from you.

You swallow.

“Heeseung…” you finally manage.

He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t interrupt. Just waits.

“You’re leaving in three days.”

It’s not the response he expected—but it’s the only one that makes sense in your head.

His jaw tightens slightly. “I know.”

“So what is this?” you ask, your voice quieter now. “You confess, we… what? Start something? And then you’re on the road back home in another city?”

He exhales slowly, running a hand through his already messy hair. “You think I haven’t thought about that?”

“I think you’re being impulsive,” you snap, but there’s no heat behind it—just fear. “You’re here. It feels intense. Nostalgic. But when you go back—”

“It’s not nostalgia,” he says firmly.

The way he says it makes you pause.

“It wasn’t just that night,” he continues. “I’ve tried to brush it off. I’ve tried to tell myself it was just chemistry. But then I see you here. The way you argue. The way you laugh with your mom. The way you pretend you’re tougher than you are.”

You glare at him slightly. “I am tough.”

His lips twitch faintly. “I know.”

That softness again. It’s worse than teasing.

“I don’t expect you to promise me anything,” he says. “I just needed you to know that I’m not playing around.”

Your fingers tighten around the blanket.

“You don’t get to say all that and then expect me to just… be calm,” you whisper.

“I don’t want you calm,” he admits. “I want you honest.”

The word lands heavily.

Honest.

You look at him then—really look at him. There’s no arrogance. No flirtation. Just a quiet steadiness that makes your chest ache.

“You think this is easy for me?” you ask softly. “Seeing you in my house. At dinner. At the park. Acting like we didn’t—”

Your voice falters.

“Like we didn’t matter,” he finishes.

You nod.

Silence settles again, but it’s no longer suffocating. It’s fragile. Balanced on something sharp.

“I didn’t plan to fall for you,” he says quietly. “It just happened.”

Your heart pounds harder at that word.

Fall.

“You don’t even know me that well,” you argue weakly.

“Then let me,” he replies immediately.

That catches you off guard.

“Let me know you properly,” he says. “Not just the version from one night. Not just the version that pushes me away when things feel too real.”

Your breath hitches.

“You’re scared,” he says gently.

“Of course I am,” you admit, almost frustrated. “You’re leaving. I don’t do long distance. I don’t do uncertainty, I…certainly don’t just date from one good sex.”

“And I don’t do pretending I don’t care,” he counters.

The drama on the TV ends its confession scene with applause-worthy music. You grab the remote and mute it.

The silence now is entirely yours.

“What are you asking from me?” you whisper.

He leans a little closer—not touching, just closing the space enough that you feel his presence fully.

“A chance,” he says. “Not a guarantee. Just… don’t shut the door before we even try.”

Your pulse is loud in your ears.

Three days before he leaves.

Three days to either build something—or protect yourself from it.

You look at him, eyes searching, trying to find a reason to dismiss this as temporary emotion.

You don’t find one.

And that’s what terrifies you.

“Say something,” he murmurs again, softer now.

This time, you don’t look away. You stare at him for one long, overwhelming second.

Your heart is racing too fast. Your thoughts are colliding into each other. Three days. Confessions. “A chance.” It’s too much. Too sudden. Too real.

You stand up abruptly.

“I—I need time to think,” you say, words tumbling out before you can filter them.

Heeseung rises halfway from the couch instinctively. “Hey—”

But you’re already stepping back.

“I just… I can’t answer you right now,” you add quickly. “It’s a lot.”

His expression tightens, but he nods once. “Okay.”

You don’t wait for anything else.

You bolt down the hallway, heart pounding, shutting your bedroom door a little harder than necessary. You lean against it, breath uneven.

Why now?

Why three days before he leaves?

Why does it feel like if you answer wrong, you’ll lose something you didn’t even realize you were holding?

You slide down against the door and press your palms to your eyes. You needed time. You just didn’t expect it to feel like this.

The next morning smells like butter and coffee.

You frown, your mom does not wake up early on weekends.

You shuffle out of your room, still half-asleep, hair messy, expecting silence. Instead, you hear the sound of a pan sizzling. You blink.

Heeseung is in the kitchen.

Sleeves slightly rolled, apron tied awkwardly around his waist (clearly borrowed), hair still soft and unruly from sleep—but this time he looks very awake.

Focused.

Your mom and Mrs. Lee are seated at the table, watching him like he’s some kind of five-star chef.

“He insisted,” your mom says the moment she sees you. “Said we should let him cook.”

He glances up at you.

Not smug, not teasing. Just steady.

“Morning,” he says.

You clear your throat. “Morning.”

He turns back to the stove. “Scrambled eggs or sunny side up?”

You blink. “What?”

“For you,” he clarifies. “How do you like your eggs?”

Your mom gasps softly. “He even asked me what you usually eat.”

You shoot her a look.

He continues like this is completely normal. “I made toast too. And there’s fruit.”

You step closer to the counter, still confused. “Since when do you cook?”

“Since always,” he replies casually. “You just didn’t stay long enough to see.”

Your ears burn, looking over to your moms if they notice it, they don’t.

He plates the food carefully—neatly, intentionally—and sets it in front of you first before sitting down.

That alone makes your stomach flip.

He doesn’t bring up last night.

Doesn’t push.

Doesn’t corner you.

Instead, he talks to your mom about the park photos. Asks his about souvenirs to bring home. Clears plates without being asked.

Too proactive.

Suspiciously proactive.

When your mom mentions needing to run errands later, he immediately says, “I can drive.”

When Mrs. Lee talks about wanting to visit a bakery nearby, he says, “Let’s go after breakfast.”

You watch him the entire time.

He’s not performing.

He’s consistent.

Intentional.

When your mom leaves the table to grab something from her room, and Mrs. Lee follows, you’re briefly alone in the kitchen.

He stands by the sink, rinsing dishes.

“You don’t have to… do all this,” you say quietly. He doesn’t turn around immediately.

“I know,” he replies then glances at you over his shoulder.

“But I want to.” There’s no pressure in his voice, just effort.

You swallow.

“You said you needed time,” he continues calmly. “I’m giving it to you.” The water runs softly between you.

“But I’m not going to act like I didn’t say what I said.” Your pulse stutters.

“I meant it,” he adds. “So I’ll act like I meant it.”

You stare at him and he turns the tap off and dries his hands slowly.

“I’m leaving in three days,” he says. “I don’t want to waste them pretending.”

And somehow, that hits harder than the confession itself.

…

From the moment breakfast ends, he doesn’t leave your side. Not in a suffocating way. Not hovering. Just… present.

When your mom asks you to help bring laundry out to dry, he’s already reaching for the basket before you can. When you struggle with the stubborn sliding door, he steps in quietly, fixing it without making a show of it.

“You don’t have to follow me everywhere,” you mutter at one point, adjusting the clothespins.

“I’m not following you,” he replies lightly. “I’m staying here temporarily too, remember?”

You glance at him. He looks almost amused—but there’s intention behind it.

Later, when you head to the small grocery store nearby because your mom forgot coriander, he walks beside you without even asking if he should come.

The afternoon sun is warm. The air smells like pavement and fried snacks from a stall down the street.

“So,” he says casually, hands in his pockets. “What did you want to be when you were younger?”

You blink. “What?”

“When you were eight. Ten. What was the dream?” You huff softly. “That’s random.”

“It’s not,” he says. “It tells me things.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You analyzing me now?”

“Maybe.”

You roll your eyes—but you answer anyway.

“I wanted to be a novelist,” you admit. “I used to write stories. Cringey ones.”

His eyebrows lift slightly. “You still write?”

You hesitate. “…Rarely now, in my notebooks in my apartment, or my notes app.”

“Why’d you stop wanting to be it?”

The question is gentle. Not invasive. Just curious. You shrug. “Reality. Expectations. It didn’t feel practical.”

He nods slowly, absorbing that like it matters.

“It still matters,” he says after a moment.

You glance at him. “What does?”

“The fact that you wanted to create something.”

Your chest tightens slightly.

He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t brush it off. Just lets it sit there like it’s important.

Back home, when your mom asks you to help reorganize some old boxes in the storage room, he follows again.

It’s dusty. Warm. Dim.

You crouch down to open a box of old photo albums. He kneels beside you, shoulder nearly brushing yours.

“That’s you?” he asks, picking up a picture of you at maybe twelve years old, hair shorter, smile wider.

You snatch it lightly. “Don’t judge.”

“I’m not,” he says. And he isn’t. He studies the photo like he’s memorizing it.

“You looked happy.”

“I was a kid.”

“And now?”

You look at him sharply. “What’s with the interrogation?”

“I told you,” he reminds you quietly. “I want to know you.”

There’s no rush in his tone. No desperation.

Just steadiness.

The day continues like that.

When you wash dishes, he dries them.

He asks about your university. Your friends. What stresses you out. What makes you laugh. What kind of music you secretly listen to when you’re alone.

At one point, he says, “You hum when you’re focused.”

You freeze. “I do not.”

“You do,” he insists softly. “You were doing it while cutting fruit earlier.”

You didn’t even realize.

“The thing you do with your hand? That too.” He points out, while taking your hand, opening it and see the crescent marks on your palm.

“You notice too much,” you murmur.

He doesn’t deny it.

“Someone has to,” he replies.

The living room is dim, only the lamp by the window casting a warm glow across the space. The TV is on but forgotten, some late-night rerun playing to fill the silence.

You’re curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked under you. Heeseung sits beside you—not too close, not too far—close enough that you’re aware of him without feeling crowded.

He’s been quieter tonight. Observing.

“Can I ask you something?” he says eventually.

You glance at him warily. “You’ve been doing that all day.”

A faint smile. “Humor me.”

You sigh. “Fine.” Only because you can’t resist his charming smile.

“That night,” he says carefully, “why were you really there?”

You stiffen slightly. “At the bar?”

“In another city. On a random weekend.”

“It wasn’t random,” you reply automatically.

He waits.

You stare at the muted TV screen for a long moment before answering.

“I party a lot with my friends,” you say finally.

He doesn’t react. Just listens. “More than people expect,” you add.

“Why?” he asks softly.

You let out a small breath through your nose. “Because it’s loud.”

He tilts his head slightly.

“Because when the music’s blasting and the lights are flashing and everyone’s moving,” you continue, “I can’t hear my own thoughts.”

The honesty surprises even you.

He doesn’t interrupt.

“You know how exhausting job hunting is?” you ask quietly. “Applications. Tailoring your resume for every company. Writing cover letters that feel fake. Preparing for interviews. Smiling. Selling yourself.”

His expression shifts—more focused now.

“And then the emails,” you continue, voice flattening. “‘We regret to inform you.’ ‘After careful consideration.’ ‘We’ve decided to move forward with other candidates.’”

You laugh softly, but there’s no humor in it.

“Sometimes they don’t even reply.”

Silence stretches.

“It gets to you,” you admit. “You start wondering what’s wrong with you. If you’re not good enough. If everyone else is moving ahead while you’re just… stuck.”

He doesn’t look away.

“So yeah,” you shrug lightly, though your chest feels tight. “I party.”

“To forget?” he asks.

“To breathe,” you correct.

You shift slightly, hugging your knees closer.

“When I’m out with my friends, I’m not the girl refreshing her email at 2 a.m. I’m not the candidate who didn’t make it to the final round. I’m just… me.”

He studies you carefully.

“And that’s why you were in another city.”

You nod.

“We’d just gotten two rejections that week,” you admit. “Back-to-back. I felt so stupid for getting my hopes up.”

Your voice lowers.

“So we booked a cheap place, took a train, and told ourselves we deserved one reckless weekend.”

“You call it reckless,” he says quietly. “But you sound calculated.”

You frown slightly. “What?”

“You didn’t go there to ruin yourself,” he says. “You went there to survive.”

That makes you blink.

“I like dancing,” you add quickly, deflecting. “I like dressing up. I like feeling wanted without having to prove I’m competent or impressive.”

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly at that word.

“Wanted.”

“It’s simple,” you say. “No resumes. No interviews. No expectations beyond having fun.”

“And me?” he asks gently.

You swallow.

“You weren’t part of the plan,” you admit.

His eyes don’t leave yours.

“I wasn’t looking for something serious,” you continue. “It was easier that way. Temporary city. Temporary connection. No future to mess up.”

“You think you mess things up?” he asks.

You give him a look. “Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

“I’m not,” he says evenly. “I’m trying to understand.”

You hesitate.

“When you don’t get chosen enough,” you say slowly, “you stop expecting to be.”

The words hang in the air.

He goes very still.

“That night,” you continue, quieter now, “I wasn’t thinking about tomorrow. I just wanted to feel good. To not think about rejection emails. To not feel like I was behind in life.”

“And I was… what?” he asks softly.

“A distraction,” you answer honestly.

The word lands heavy.

But before he can retreat into it, you add—

“A good one.”

His gaze sharpens slightly.

“You were easy,” you explain. “Not in a bad way. You didn’t interrogate me. You didn’t act like you were doing me a favor. You just… were there.”

He exhales slowly.

“And when I woke up alone,” he says quietly, “it didn’t feel temporary.”

You look at him.

“I didn’t want to be just a distraction,” he continues. “I wanted to be something that stayed.”

Your heart stutters.

You look away first. “I don’t know how to let things stay,” you admit.

“Because you’re used to them leaving?” he asks.

The vulnerability in the room shifts everything.

He doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t crowd you. He just sits there, steady.

“You party to break free,” he says after a moment. You nod.

“I’m not here to take that away from you.”

You glance at him cautiously.

“But I don’t want to be another escape,” he continues. “I want to be something you choose even when the music stops.”

Your chest tightens again.

Outside, the night is quiet. No music. No flashing lights. No crowd to drown out your thoughts.

Just him.

And the terrifying possibility that this time, you won’t be the one walking away before you can be rejected.

The room feels smaller after that.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

The lamp beside the couch casts a soft golden glow across his face, catching in his eyes. The TV is still muted, forgotten entirely now. Outside, the world is quiet—no music, no city noise, no chaos to hide behind.

Just you.

And him.

“I don’t know how to let things stay,” you admit again, softer this time. “Nor how to stay.”

He doesn’t rush to fill the silence. He doesn’t try to fix you. He just watches you like your words matter.

“Then don’t decide forever,” he says gently. “Just decide now.”

Your heart pounds.

“That’s how it starts,” you whisper. “Now turns into later. Later turns into expectations.”

“And expectations scare you,” he says.

“They fail,” you correct.

He studies you for a long moment. Then he shifts closer—not abruptly, not cornering—just enough that the space between your knees and his disappears.

“I’m not an interview,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to impress me.”

Your throat tightens.

“I already like you,” he continues. “On your stressed days. On your stubborn days. On the days you party too hard to feel free.”

You huff softly. “I don’t party too hard, I still control myself.”

He almost smiles. “You know what I mean.”

The tenderness in his voice makes your chest ache.

“You don’t have to earn staying,” he says.

The words hit somewhere deep.

You look at him, really look at him. His hair is still slightly messy from earlier. He’s not styled, not composed like the first night you met. He’s just… him.

And he’s looking at you like you’re not temporary.

Your voice comes out barely above a whisper. “You’re leaving.”

“In two days,” he says.

“And then?”

“Then we figure it out,” he replies. “Or we try. Or we fail. But at least we won’t be wondering.”

Your breathing feels uneven.

He lifts his hand slowly, like he’s giving you time to pull away.

When you don’t, his fingers brush lightly against your cheek.

The touch is soft. Careful.

Nothing like that first night.

That night was heat and impulse and dim lights and stolen glances.

This is quiet.

Intentional.

His thumb traces gently along your jawline, barely there. You feel your pulse everywhere at once.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

You swallow.

He doesn’t laugh at you.

Doesn’t tease.

His hand shifts slightly, cupping your cheek fully now. Warm. Steady.

“Tell me to stop,” he says quietly.

You don’t.

Instead, you lean in first.

It’s small. Barely an inch, but it closes the distance.

His breath brushes your lips before they meet. Slow. Careful. Testing.

When he kisses you, it isn’t rushed.

It isn’t hungry.

It’s soft.

Like he’s asking a question.

Your fingers clutch lightly at the fabric of his T-shirt without thinking. The kiss deepens just slightly—not intense, not overwhelming—just enough to make your heart feel like it might burst.

He pulls back a fraction, forehead resting against yours.

His voice is low. Almost unsteady.

“This isn’t an escape,” he says.

You nod faintly, breath mingling with his.

“I know.”

He kisses you again.

This time with more certainty.

Not claiming. Not demanding.

Choosing.

Your hand slides up to the back of his neck, fingers threading lightly into his hair. He exhales softly against your lips, one hand moving to your waist—secure, but not pulling you in without permission.

The world outside the living room feels nonexistent.

No rejection emails.

No interviews.

No expectations.

Just this moment.

When you finally pull back, your lips feel warm, your thoughts scattered.

“Now,” he murmurs softly, echoing his earlier words.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Now,” you repeat.

And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like something you’re running from.

It feels like something you’re choosing.

The living room feels impossibly small after that kiss. Your pulse is racing, every nerve on fire, yet your mind is dizzy in a way that makes thinking impossible.

Heeseung pulls back just slightly, his forehead still resting against yours, and you can feel the warmth of him everywhere. For a heartbeat, neither of you moves, the air thick with unsaid words.

“I—” you start, but your voice falters.

“I’ve got you,” he says suddenly, firm but gentle. His hands slide under your arms, and before you can protest, he lifts you effortlessly.

Your stomach flips. “Heeseung! Put me down!” you squeak, half-laughing, half-panicking, but you don’t resist.

“I don’t want to,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the side of your temple as he carries you toward your room. His voice is low, intimate, and the closeness makes your chest tighten even more.

Your room feels impossibly far and yet too close. The walls, the soft glow of your lamp, the familiar smell of your space—all of it is suddenly charged.

He sets you down gently on your bed, but the tension doesn’t leave. His hands linger near your waist, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of your shirt. You feel the deliberate weight of his gaze on you, assessing, quiet, patient.

“Are you… okay with this?” he asks, voice husky but careful, and you can’t tell if he’s asking about the kiss, being alone together, or everything.

You swallow hard, your pulse loud in your ears. “I—I think so,” you admit, your words trembling just enough to betray your certainty.

He shifts closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand resting lightly on the mattress near yours. You’re inches apart, every movement amplified. The air feels electric, charged with anticipation and heat.

His eyes trace your face slowly, almost like he’s memorizing every line, every shadow. “You’re warm,” he murmurs, voice softer now, almost a whisper.

Your breath catches. The room is quiet except for the distant hum of the city outside. Your fingers twitch at the edge of the blanket, trying to ground yourself, but he leans in, closing the space further.

His hand moves to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, brushing against your jaw as he does. You feel your own hands rise, unconsciously resting on his forearm. The intimacy is subtle, teasing—every touch deliberate, careful, yet charged with something unspoken.

“You’ve been on my mind,” he admits quietly, gaze locking with yours. “All day. Since breakfast. Even when we were doing the dishes… I couldn’t stop thinking.”

Your chest tightens. The honesty in his tone, combined with the nearness, makes your head spin. “Maybe you also have been lingering in my head all along for the past two months.”

“I—” you start, but he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. It’s slower, deliberate, exploratory—but there’s a hunger there too, restrained yet unmistakable.

Your hands find his chest, fingers brushing against the fabric of his T-shirt, feeling the solid warmth underneath. The kiss deepens slightly, teasing, suggestive, daring—but still measured.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, reading your reaction, searching for consent in your gaze. Your pulse is racing, your thoughts scattered, but the answer is clear in the flutter of your heartbeat.

His lips hover over yours again, close enough that you can feel the warmth and breath, and for a moment, nothing else exists: no hesitation, no past regrets, just the two of you, the quiet room, and the thrilling, dangerous pull of something more.

And then he whispers, low and husky, “Do you trust me?”

Your answer is a shiver, a nod, a soft, “Yes,” barely audible—but it’s enough.

The air between you thickens, charged with a suggestion, a promise, a question that doesn’t need words—because the way he’s looking at you, the way he’s close enough to touch, it says it all.

…

Heeseung’s lips trail down your neck with a slow, teasing warmth—each kiss featherlight at first, then lingering just enough to leave faint tingles in their wake. His breathing is uneven but controlled, clearly trying to balance the haze with focus.

“Always smell so good.” He murmur between kisses. One hand rests tentatively against your shoulder while the other tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before continuing his path lower.

Then he pauses abruptly near your collarbone as if remembering something, “I don’t have condoms with me,” He looks at you.

You huff, turning to your handbag. Pulling out the small foil packet, he smiles at you. “For your other one night stands?” You laugh.

“That was the plan, but I stopped doing thise after you.” He doesn’t question it, because he knows. You tug at his shirt, signalling you want it off.

Heeseung makes quick work of his shirt, tossing it aside before popping the button on his pants. His movements are fluid—confident but not rushed—as he steps out of them and kicks them toward the floor.

“Better?” He asks, voice low as he reaches for you again, now only in his boxers.

His fingers are gentle but eager as he helps you out of your own clothes—each piece discarded with care until there’s nothing left between you. His touch lingers on bare skin, like he’s relearning every curve after months of yearning.

"God… I love this,"he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “So beautiful.”

Heeseung trails kisses downward—slow, deliberate—each one hotter than the last. His hands follow, mapping your body like he’s memorizing it anew. When his lips finally reach the place you have been dying for him to touch, he glances up at you through his lashes, smirking.

“Want me to touch you here?”

You nod, he tsks. “Need to hear you, baby.” As his breath brushes your open folds.

“Yes.” You gasped, “Yes, please.”

He smiles, Heeseung doesn’t waste another second—his mouth sealing over you with practiced devotion. Every flick of his tongue, every hum against your skin is calculated to unravel you.

And it works.

His free hand grips your thigh, holding you steady as he focuses entirely on pleasuring and loving you—like this is the only mission that matters tonight.

Heeseung zeroes in on your clit instantly—his tongue circling it with just the right amount of pressure before sucking lightly. His eyes stay locked on yours, gauging every twitch and gasp to adjust his technique.

"This okay?" he murmurs against you, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear you say it anyway.

You nod, he hums in approval—taking your nod as permission to double down. His tongue flicks faster now, alternating between broad strokes and precise little darts while his fingers slip inside you, curling just right.

You yelp at the sudden intrusion, Heeseung pauses immediately—pulling back just enough to check your expression. His brows furrow in concern, but he keeps his fingers still inside you.

"Too much?" he asks softly, ready to adjust at your slightest hint. You shake your head, “It’s good, s’good..”

He exhales in relief—his tension melting into renewed focus. He resumes with even more care now, his movements deliberate and gentle as he coaxes you toward pleasure rather than overwhelming you.

"That’s it," he murmurs, lips brushing your inner thigh between words. "Just relax… I’ve got you."

“I’ll make you feel better than that night.”

He adds a second finger—stretching you gradually as his thumb replaces his tongue, rubbing slow circles over your clit instead. His eyes stay locked on your face, tracking every flutter of pleasure.

“Tell me if anything’s too much," he reminds, voice thick with concern beneath the desire.

Heeseung's touch remains gentle and attentive, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm that builds pleasure without rushing you. Every now and then, he glances up to make sure you're still comfortable—his expression soft with care even as desire burns in his gaze.

“So good for me, you’re so good for me.” He murmurs againts your skin, words warm and reverent.

He senses you're close—your breaths hitching, your body tensing around his fingers. He presses a final open-mouthed kiss to your clit before murmuring,

"Come for me, baby.”

His words are the last push you need—your climax crashing over you in waves as Heeseung rides it out with his fingers, his touch never faltering. When your tremors subside, he presses a kiss to your inner thigh and slowly withdraws his hand.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, crawling up to claim your lips in a deep kiss—letting you taste yourself on him.

“Need you, now.” You breath againts his lips

Heeseung groans at your words, his body responding instantly. In one fluid motion, he flips onto his back—pulling you atop him, before rolling the condom on with practiced ease.

“Ride me,” he rasps, before teasing his tip on your folds and guiding himself to your entrance. He hisses as you sink onto him—his hands flying to your hips, gripping hard as he adjusts to the sudden tightness. His head falls back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut for a second before he forces them open again, needing to see you.

"Fuck," he grits out, "You feel…"

Words fail him—too overwhelmed by how perfectly you take him in.

His breath comes in ragged bursts as you start moving—his hips instinctively bucking up to meet each of your descents. One hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you down into a searing kiss while the other presses possessively against your back.

He loses himself in the rhythm you set—every roll of your hips sending sparks through his veins. His hands roam your body, worshiping every curve as he murmurs praise against your skin.

“Gonna kill me like this, baby.” He cups your breasts as he pinches one of your nipples, you moan.

His control starts to fray—his thrusts becoming less measured, more desperate. He can feel his climax building rapidly, but he refuses to let go until you do first.

Heeseung flips you onto your back with surprising gentleness despite the urgency in his movements. The second he’s nestled between your thighs again, he surges into you—each thrust deep and deliberate.

"Look at me," he demands softly, cradling your face as his pace turns relentless. "Want to see you when we finish."

His thrusts grow erratic—his breath coming in sharp gasps as he chases his release. But even now, at the peak of pleasure, his focus stays on you, making sure you’re right there with him.

“Searched for you like crazy, kept..kept..asking around.” He went down to latch on your nipple, sucking softly and twirling his tongue making you whimper underneath him.

“Need the girl that made me fall hopelessly from just one night.”

Heeseung’s eyes lock onto yours, the intensity in his gaze nearly overwhelming as he pushes you both toward release. His thrusts grow sharper—each one hitting that perfect spot inside you while his thumb circles your clit with just enough pressure, making your moans slightly louder than before.

"Close?" he rasps, voice strained with restraint.

You nod frantically, your body coiling tight with impending pleasure. Heeseung’s answering grin is fierce—he can feel it too.

"Then let go," he urges, his own rhythm faltering as he chases his own peak alongside you.

The moment your climax hits—waves of pleasure crashing over you in relentless succession—Heeseung follows with a broken groan. His thrusts stutter before he buries himself deep, shuddering through his release as he holds you close.

For several breathless seconds, all either of you can do is cling to each other, sweaty and spent but utterly satisfied.

“Don’t go. Don’t leave this time.” He says, pressing a lazy kiss on your shoulder.

“Can’t run even if I tried,” you laugh, finally aware that you guys fucked in your childhood bedroom, in your parents’ house. With his and your moms just a few doors away.

…

Morning comes softly.

Not with alarms. Not with loud footsteps downstairs.

Just sunlight.

It slips through the thin gap in your curtains, warm and golden, stretching slowly across your walls, across your desk, across the edge of your bed.

You blink awake gradually, consciousness returning in pieces.

The warmth against your back registers first.

Then the weight around your waist.

Then the steady rise and fall of someone else’s breathing.

Your heart stutters.

Heeseung.

His arm is draped securely around you, palm resting flat against your stomach like it belongs there. Your back is pressed lightly to his chest, his face buried somewhere near the back of your neck, breath warm against your skin.

For a second, you don’t move, you just lie there and lets the reality settle.

Last night wasn’t loud or reckless or fleeting. It wasn’t dim bar lights and alcohol-blurred edges.

It was slow.

Intentional.

You remember how careful he was. How he kept checking in. How he looked at you like this wasn’t just physical.

Your cheeks warm at the memory.

Behind you, he shifts slightly. His arm tightens instinctively when you move.

“Mmm,” he hums, voice thick with sleep. “Don’t go.” You freeze.

“I’m not,” you whisper, even though you hadn’t actually planned to.

He exhales softly against your shoulder, clearly not fully awake yet. His fingers flex slightly against your waist, like he’s grounding himself.

The sunlight climbs higher.

You slowly turn your head just enough to glance at him.

His hair is a mess, falling into his eyes. His lips are slightly parted, expression relaxed in a way you’ve never seen before. No guarded composure. No teasing edge.

Just him.

Peaceful.

He blinks awake a moment later, eyes adjusting slowly.

There’s a brief second of confusion.

Then recognition.

Then something softer.

“Morning,” he murmurs. Your heart flips.

“Morning.”

Neither of you moves away.

Neither of you makes it awkward.

He studies your face like he’s making sure you’re real. Like he half-expected to wake up alone again. “You’re still here,” he says quietly.

You swallow. “So are you.” A small smile touches his lips.

He lifts a hand, brushing his thumb gently along your cheekbone. Not suggestive. Not urgent. Just… tender.

“Regrets?” he asks carefully.

You consider it. The sunlight. The warmth. The quiet. His arm still wrapped around you.

“No,” you answer honestly.

Relief flickers across his face so subtly you almost miss it.

“Good,” he murmurs.

Silence settles again, but it’s comfortable.

You’re suddenly aware of the house. Of your mom downstairs. Of Mrs. Lee probably already awake.

Reality creeping back in.

“We should probably get up,” you say softly. He groans lightly. “Five more minutes.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t move. His fingers trace lazy patterns against your waist absentmindedly.

“Last night,” he begins quietly, “wasn’t just… heat.”

You turn slightly to face him more fully now, the blanket shifting around you.

“I know,” you reply. His eyes search yours.

“I meant what I said,” he continues. “About wanting more.”

The weight of it is still there. But this time, it doesn’t feel suffocating. It feels steady.

You reach out, brushing a piece of hair away from his forehead. “I’m still scared,” you admit.

“That’s okay,” he says immediately.

“But I don’t want to run,” you add.

Something shifts in his expression—something hopeful. “We’ll figure it out,” he says quietly. “One step at a time.”

He leaves tomorrow.

But right now, he’s here.

Warm. Real. Looking at you like you’re not temporary.

His hand slides into yours under the blanket, fingers intertwining slowly.

SEPTEMBER 2025

Three months later, your apartment feels both fuller and emptier at the same time.

Fuller — because his hoodie is draped over the back of your chair. Because there’s a mug he likes that you bought “accidentally.” Because your call logs are filled with his name. Because there’s a toothbrush tucked into the corner of your sink like it belongs there.

Emptier — because right now, he isn’t here.

Long distance wasn’t glamorous.

It was: falling asleep on video call, propping your phone against your pillow just to see his face, texting “reach home safe” every long rides he takes back home, syncing up dramas and pressing play at the same time,

It was him visiting every three weeks without fail. No excuses.

He comes by Friday night, spends the weekend before saying goodbye Sunday night. Sometimes with a small bouquet.

Sometimes with your favorite snacks.

Once with nothing but a tired smile and open arms.

And every time he left, the goodbye got quieter. Less dramatic. More heavy.

But you were trying. Both of you were.

Tonight, you’re expecting him again.

You’d cleaned the apartment earlier, even though he’s seen it messy before. There’s a faint scent of citrus from the candle you lit. Your heart always beats a little faster on visit days.

When the knock finally comes, you don’t pretend to be calm. You open the door.

Heeseung stands there with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

And that smile, the one that makes three weeks feel like three seconds.

You don’t even greet him properly—you just step forward and hug him. He laughs softly, arms wrapping around you tightly, lifting you slightly off the ground for a brief second.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs into your hair. When you pull back, you notice something. He looks… different.

Not physically.

But there’s a weight behind his eyes.

“What?” you ask immediately. He exhales lightly. “Can I come in first?” You narrow your eyes but step aside.

He drops his bag near the couch, looks around your apartment like he always does—taking it in, grounding himself.

You close the door.

“Okay,” you say, crossing your arms. “What’s going on?”

He runs a hand through his hair—a nervous habit you’ve come to recognize.

“I have news,” he says. Your stomach drops slightly.

“Good news?” you ask cautiously.

He hesitates just enough to make your heart pound.

“I’m moving.” The word hangs in the air.

Your mind scrambles. “Moving?” you repeat. “Where?”

He steps closer. “Here.”

You blink. “…What?”

“I got a transfer,” he continues, the words coming faster now. “There was an opening in the branch here. I applied a month ago.”

“A month ago?” you echo.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to promise something that might not happen.”

Your heart is racing now. “I got it,” he says quietly. “It’s finalized.” Silence fills your apartment.

“You’re… moving here?” you whisper.

He nods. “I don’t want to do long distance anymore,” he says. “Not when I don’t have to.”

Your brain is still catching up.

“But your mom? Your place? Producing?”

“She supports it,” he replies. “And my job is still my job. Just different location.”

You stare at him.

“You did this… because of me?”He steps closer until there’s barely space between you.

“I did this because I want a life where I don’t count down weeks just to see you,” he says. “Because I don’t want to miss small things. Your bad interview days. Your random 2 a.m. thoughts. Your victories.”

Your throat tightens. “I don’t want to visit you,” he continues softly. “I want to be here.” Tears prick at the corner of your eyes before you can stop them.

“You’re serious,” you whisper.

He cups your face gently, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes.

“I’ve never been more serious.”

Your laugh comes out shaky. “You’re insane.”

“Probably,” he admits. “But I’m yours.”

note: freaking finally! i know i promised you guys this a month ago, and yes i’m alive. just wanted to wrap things up with my semester and have a small break after stressing out for finals, but alas! here we are! first work kinda nervous >< hope u guys love it!

taglist: @gardenwonn @vayuzzz @prettygirlthings-world @yenienha @enhypen437 @rayofsunshineeee @somuchdard

[just-nc-tea]

LOVESONG(demo).wav

⭑.ᐟ an office romance featuring marketing girly Y/N and producer Heeseung Who would’ve thought that stumbling into room 3B-47 crying your eyes out would lead to the best thing that ever happened to you in that cursed HYBE building.

⋆｡◛ ⊹ ⤳ requested ･:*:･｡☆

ᝰ genre. fluff!!!! just pure fluff .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ warning. stress at work, drinking, sexual harassment at work? .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ word count. 19.6k .ᐟ₊ ⊹

The door to your office was closed, which was unusual. Your smile faltered a bit as you carefully nudged the door open with your elbow. The pastel cake box in your hands wobbled slightly as you moved inside. Today was the first day of the campaign for Enhypen’s newest comeback, and you had decided to bake a cake to celebrate your team's hard work finally paying off, knowing full well that you were already planning the next comeback.

Working at HYBE meant you were always working. It felt like the company moved in dog years, every week sprinting at the speed of a month.

Idols had it worse. Practicing, performing, filming, traveling, interacting with fans, and repeating it all again with barely a break. You didn’t understand how they did it. At least you went home. You could sleep. Cook. Watch trashy dramas and feel your brain melt in peace. With Enhypen having comeback after comeback after comeback, the team behind them was also working all the time. Designing concepts, thinking about inclusions and albums, getting all of that produced, and campaigns published. But today, you finally had the first publication of their concept trailer, which in your opinion should be celebrated.

The air in the office was already stuffy. It was almost silent. The fluorescents buzzed faintly overhead, but otherwise… nothing. No chatter, no gossiping. Just the frantic click-click-click of keyboard abuse and one person swearing under their breath near the copy machine. Your smile died right there on the threshold.

As you marched past your favourite colleague and the intern, no one turned around, not the usual “good morning”, no "oh, you brought cake." You carefully set down your box and opened the lid slightly to check if the meringue cream and the sprinkles survived your subway trip to the office. The sugary scent of the cream spilled out into the quiet.

The second you turned back around to announce to the office that you brought cake and everyone could take a piece, your phone vibrated.

[8:04 AM] Manager-nim Y/N, are you in the office? If yes, room RB_12. Asap.

You barely had time to pull your sleeves down and smooth your dress before you were hustling down the hallway, your heels thudding softly on the carpet. The door to RB_12 was cracked open, and even from the corridor, you could hear your manager’s voice. He sounded furious. Your manager was usually a very chill person. He was very pleasant to work with, so hearing him raise his voice was quite rare. And if he did, something went really wrong.

“We can’t just change everything now, because they decided to plagiarize us?!” You slipped inside quietly. Your manager stood at the head of the table, tense and indeed furious. Seated across from him was Mr. Kim from Legal. “I’m not saying change everything,” Mr. Kim replied with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Just enough so it doesn’t look too similar. That can't be too hard, Mr. Park.” Mr. Kim was short and stout with greasy hair and round glasses that constantly slid down his nose. You had had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Kim one time too often, and every time, you left feeling like you needed to shower. He was known for saying the most disgusting things to any woman around, constantly sexualizing them whenever he opened his mouth. You did really liked your job, so you never said anything back. “We didn’t copy anything. They published the video on Friday. We were already done on Friday!” your manager almost shouted. “Mr. Park, that is a problem you will have to work on. Management wants us to push the release two weeks, so adjust the timeline accordingly. Think of a valid reason why we have to push the release back, and see if you change enough to make it different.” The lawyer stood up, straightened his suit, and looked at you. The moment his eyes did find you, they flicked up from your calves to your chest with a slowness that made your skin crawl. His face shifted into what he probably thought was a charming smile. “Miss Y/L/N,” he said, his voice syrupy sweet. “Always such a pleasure. That dress looks incredible on you. Quite the distraction for a Monday morning.” You suppressed a shudder and forced a tight, practiced smile. “Thank you, Mr. Kim.” He made his way towards the door, and you stepped out of the way, praying he wouldn’t find a reason to touch you. His arm brushed too close to your waist as he passed. “Have a nice day, Mr. Park. Miss Y/L/N,” he called lightly, pausing by the door to flash you one last look, far too amused with himself. “Let’s do lunch sometime. I have suggestions for next quarter’s visuals.” You nodded once and closed the door behind him, the second you could. Your manager sat down heavily, scrubbing both hands over his face.

“They want us to change it,” he muttered. You blinked, trying to shift your focus. “Change what?” “The comeback.” His voice was flat now, tired. “Starboiz published their MV on Friday. Same font direction. Same color palette. Even similar choreography shots. Legal’s worried someone will say we copied. So they decided to delay the release, and we are supposed to redesign everything.” You felt your stomach sink. “The entire promo rollout?” “The entire thing,” he confirmed, eyes dark with exhaustion. “I’m going to talk to upper management about next steps. In the meantime, I need you to map out what we’ll have to shift. New deadlines. Meetings to reschedule. Reassignments. We’ll need a rough plan of the new look before the end of the week, and it should be done within the next two weeks.”

You made your way into your office again. Walking much slower this time, while you were drafting the first emails for meeting invites. 

The office was still silent, and the air felt tense. The box of cake sat forgotten near the window, untouched. The meringue had started to collapse in the warmth. You watched it for a second, its shape sinking, before you steeled yourself and opened your laptop.

You cleared your throat. “Can I get everyone’s attention?”

You thought for a second how to tell everyone that they would have to essentially redo months of work within two weeks, and decided not to sugarcoat it.

“As you all probably noticed, Legal came down this morning,” you started, your voice low but steady. “There are… concerns about the similarities between our rollout and Starboiz’s new video. It wasn’t a direct accusation, but…”

You stopped for a second, taking a deep breath.

“…we’re pulling the current campaign. Management wants a full revision. The comeback date will be pushed, but not by much, only around two weeks. We need to rework the visual concept, reprint all materials, and update the promotional assets. Everything we had ready… it won’t go live.”

Someone cursed under their breath.

You continued. “I know this sucks. I know you put in so much work, and it was good. It is good. This isn’t because we failed. It’s politics and timing and bad luck.”

“Do we have to redo the teaser edits?” someone asked, voice brittle.

“Yes.”

“And the inclusion set designs?”

“Still being discussed,” you answered, “but yes, most likely.”

After answering every question that came up and running over a short task plan, you settled back down into your chair with a huff.

Jungwoo walked past you on the way to refill his mug and muttered low, “We kinda figured. Legal showed up first thing this morning and killed the entire vibe.”

You nodded slowly. “You think the manager already knew?”

“Probably. I did think there were many similarities when I watched the video on Friday as well, so he probably knew, yeah.” Jungwoo gave a sad smile. “Thanks for bringing cake. It looks very yummy.”

You smiled back weakly. “Thanks.”

You pulled up Starboiz’s new music video and watched it frame by frame. You listed every overlap. Font choice. Filter tone. Light leaks in the first chorus. A goddamn pink balloon in the dance break that looked exactly like one of your teaser shots.

You dissected it like a surgeon, fingers flying across the keyboard, notes, deadlines, names of designers, editors, and choreo consultants. You cross-referenced what needed to change with who had bandwidth to do it, calculating the most damage-limiting way to blow it all up.

And as the minutes ticked by, the weight in your chest only grew.

You weren’t upset for yourself, not really. You were used to cleaning up. Used to picking up when people higher up made decisions and dropped the pieces on your desk like puzzle shards.

You were upset for your team. You were upset for Jiwon, the new hire, whose first comeback had become a minefield. You were upset for the idols, who would smile and say “it’s okay” even though it meant another reshoot, another delay, another storm of hate.

Almost ten hours later, you were still in that stupid dress.

It clung to your skin in all the wrong places, too tight at the waist, too breezy at the shoulders. You felt cold. Hungry. Tired in your bones.

The clock on your screen reads 21:56.

You shut the lid of your laptop with a resigned sigh. Your back ached, and your thighs prickled with pins and needles from sitting too long. Most of the team had left already, voices trailing off one by one as they said soft goodbyes.

The building was never dark, not even in the middle of the night, but it was dead silent in the hallway.

You padded down toward the elevators, your heels clicking dully against the tile. You hit the elevator button with the side of your fist. And then you heard it.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

The voice slithered in before the man did.

You looked up and felt your stomach tighten like a fist.

Mr. Kim.

You forced a polite, brittle smile. “Evening, Mr. Kim.”

“Working late?” he asked, stepping into the elevator with you. 

“Yes,” you replied in a clipped but still polite tone, hoping he'd get the message.

“You should be careful about how late you stay here,” he said, voice low and oily, taking a step closer to you. “It’s not safe for women to be alone in the dark. Someone might take advantage.”

You stared at the elevator doors. Just two more floors.

But he was apparently not done yet.

“Though I suppose,” he chuckled, eyes dragging down your body like grease, “if you dress like that, you probably don’t mind the attention.”

It was said with a grin, as if it were charming. You said nothing in response.

The doors opened on the fifth floor, and another person stepped in. You nodded a quick “Good evening, Sir,” and stepped out of the elevator. 

He winked, “Good night, Miss Y/L/N.”

The second the doors closed behind you, you squeezed your eyes close to prevent your tears from falling. Your legs started moving on autopilot toward the far wing, past the B-studios and the practice rooms.

You were praying that room 3B-47, one of the vocal booths, was not being used right now. The air conditioning was broken, and it always ran too warm in the room, so the trainees and producers usually weren’t using this room during the summer months. You knew because you’d used it before to escape your office when everything got too loud.

You reached the room with trembling fingers. You just needed five minutes. Five minutes in the quiet. Five minutes to fall apart and then pull yourself back together.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside, ready to finally breathe, and froze. 

A guy was sitting at the desk in front of the mixing board, headphones around his neck and a can of soda next to him. He turned when he heard the door and froze, just as startled as you were.

“Oh,” he said softly.

You blinked at him, and despite not being alone, you felt the first few tears spill out of the edges of your eyes, and your lip wobbled.

For one long, mortifying second, you just stood there, half-in, half-out of the room, tears streaking down your cheeks, chest tightening in sheer panic.

“…Hi,” you croaked, your voice barely working. And then, because what else could you possibly do?, you laughed. A broken, awkward little sound that came out more like a hiccup. “Sorry. This room is usually empty.”

His eyes were wide with concern. “It usually is.”

You wiped your face quickly with the sleeve of your jacket, trying to salvage whatever dignity you had left. “I didn’t mean to – I can just – I’ll leave.”

You started to backpedal, face burning now on top of everything else.

But he stood up, alarmed. “No – wait, are you okay?”

You gave another watery laugh, shaking your head. “Not really,” you admitted. Then immediately cringed. Why did you say that? To a stranger??

He stepped around the desk but didn’t come too close. His voice was gentle. “You, uh… do you want a tissue or something?”

You blinked again, and this time a fresh tear slipped out. You nodded helplessly.

He turned back to his backpack, rummaged, and pulled out a slightly crumpled pack of tissues. “Here.”

You took one, murmuring a hoarse, “Thanks.”

You wiped your eyes and cheeks, sniffling. “This must be so weird.”

He cracked a small smile. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t usually get cried at by strangers in my break room.”

You huffed a soft, wet laugh. “Break room?”

“Kind of. I use this place during lunch sometimes. One of the speakers buzzes, so no one really books it anymore.”

You nodded, still dabbing at your eyes. “Oh. I didn’t know that. I thought no one came in here because of the AC.”

He watched you carefully, like he wasn’t sure if he should say more or just let you sit. 

“I’m Heeseung,” he said finally, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

Despite yourself, you smiled.

“I’m Y/N,” you said. “I swear I don’t usually cry on strangers.”

Heeseung smiled gently. “It’s okay. I’ve had worse introductions.”

You laughed again, or tried to, but your throat was still tight, and the sound came out small.

There was a beat of silence. You dabbed at your face with the tissue, eyes darting to the dusty corner of the booth, embarrassed all over again when you noticed the black streaks of mascara on it. 

“Today was supposed to be a good day,” you said, and sniffled a bit.

Heeseung blinked. “Yeah?”

You nodded, staring down at the balled-up tissue in your hands. “I baked a cake this morning. With homemade meringue cream, sprinkles, sponge layers, the whole thing. I thought we’d finally get a little breather. One project done, celebrate a bit, move on to the next.”

You laughed, but it cracked partway out of your chest.

“And then legal comes in and suddenly everything we’ve worked on for the past three months is ruined. A different group released something similar, and now it looks like we copied them, which we didn’t, but my manager got chewed out, and now we have to redo all of it. Like, start from scratch. In a week.” You looked up, eyes tired. “Have you ever tried to rearrange three months of work for a seven-member idol group and their entire comeback rollout in a week?”

Heeseung looked stunned. “No. God, no.”

You exhaled shakily. “Yeah. Everyone’s stressed, my team’s exhausted, I’m exhausted, and then Mr. Kim from legal–” Your face twisted at the name, voice going sharper. “–tells me my dress is ‘lovely’ while staring directly at my boobs in the elevator. And I couldn’t even yell at him because of power imbalance and corporate hierarchy and all that fun stuff.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening.

“And now I’m crying in a broken practice booth in front of someone I’ve never met.”, you sniffled again. “I promise I’m not usually like this.”

There was a small pause. Heeseung took a small step closer.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said quietly. “Seriously.”

You blinked up at him.

“Sounds like you deserve to punch someone, who isn`t me, in the face.” He gave you a soft, lopsided smile. 

You let out a breath, something between a laugh and a sob, and dropped your shoulders.

Heeseung looked toward the little stool near the desk. “Want to sit for a bit? I mean, unless you want to go home. I won’t judge.”

You hesitated, then nodded slowly. You really didn’t feel like walking through the whole building while crying like a baby. “Yeah… I’ll sit.”

You sat down with a quiet sigh, letting your shoulders sag, the tissue still clenched loosely in your hand. The booth was warm, slightly stuffy from the broken AC.

Heeseung leaned against the edge of the desk. He was quiet for a moment, studying you like he wasn’t sure if he should ask something. You beat him to it.

“What about you?” you asked, voice still hoarse from crying. “What’re you doing here at ten p.m.? Do you always let people cry in your booth?”

His mouth tugged into a surprised smile. “Maybe. I guess that depends.”

You raised an eyebrow. “On?”

“If you’re someone who’ll report me for sneaking in to work on personal projects.”

You blinked. “Wait. You’re not even supposed to be here?”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “No, no. I work here. I’m not trespassing, I promise.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Doing what? Are you… like, a trainee?”

He raised his eyebrows. “What makes you say that?”

You waved a hand vaguely in his direction. “I mean. You're good-looking enough. You do look like you had a few HYBE-funded plastic surgeries.”

He choked on a laugh, genuinely startled. “HYBE funded plastic surgeries?”

You shrugged, cheeks warming despite yourself. “Dude, your nose is so pretty. Maybe I’m also just going crazy. I’ve been crying for twenty minutes. Just take the compliment.”

He grinned, tilting his head. “I used to be a trainee, actually. Years ago. But no, I’m a vocal instructor now. Well, technically… assistant instructor. I help run some of the trainee vocal sessions, and I do warm-ups with some of the newer groups before recordings and help with the recordings. ”

You blinked. “Oh. So you work with the idols?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m trying to get into producing, though. That’s why I am in here, just trying out some stuff. This is one of the only rooms where no one bugs you.”

You tilted your head. “Doesn’t it bother you? The AC being broken?”

“Honestly?” He glanced around. “Not really. If I am really locked in, i don’t even notice how warm it gets. I haven’t been in here during the summer, tho.”

You leaned back against the wall, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I think I get that.”

Another moment of quiet settled between you. This time, it didn’t feel uncomfortable.

“I really didn’t want to cry in a toilet again.”, you said after a while. 

He chuckled. “I’m honored to be chosen over one of the toilets here.”

You smiled faintly in response. 

It was almost nine thirty p.m. when you slipped into the booth again a day later.

Your bag was heavy, overstuffed with a tumbler for water and one for coffee, sticky tabs, two notebooks, a Tupperware box with the rest of your lunch, and a laptop that had maybe one percent battery left. Your shoulders ached from stress, and your phone was still buzzing.

The small studio was dimly lit, with only one lamp in the corner casting a warm pool of light. The faint scent of instant ramen hung in the air, and Heeseung sat by the mixing desk, hunched forward slightly, headphones covering his ears. 

He didn’t notice you at first. He was lost in whatever he was working on, eyes on the screen, a pen tapping slowly against his thigh in rhythm with something you couldn’t hear.

You paused, the door quietly clicking shut behind you. “Hey,” you said softly, barely louder than a whisper.

He startled slightly, looked up, and then relaxed when he saw you.

His lips curved into a small smile. “Hey. Back again?”

You nodded, already pulling your things out of your bag. “Yeah. Sorry. I just… I needed somewhere that is not my office to finish up some things.”

He pulled one side of his headphones off his ear. “You okay?”

You didn’t answer right away. You set your laptop down, pulled out your folder, and exhaled like it physically hurt. “I have to redo everything,” you murmured. “And I don’t even know where to start. I mean. I do. We already did a lot today and yesterday, but I still feel kinda lost. It’s so much work.”

He just nodded slowly and gestured to the table beside him.

“Sit. Do your thing. I’ll be quiet.”

You offered him a tired, grateful smile and slid into the chair, spreading out your chaos across the desk.

For a while, you both worked in parallel silence. Heeseung occasionally nodded his head to the beat in his headphones and, once in a while, scribbled down something in a well-loved notebook. You muttered under your breath, highlighted something in angry pink, and crossed it out again.

At some point, he slid a half-eaten protein bar toward you.

You stared at it, then glanced at him.

“Do I look that miserable?”

He grinned, eyes still on his screen. “Just hungry. Miserable was yesterday.”

You let out a laugh that surprised even you.

And then, quietly, you returned to your mess of unfinished tasks, and he returned to his music.

The silence stretched comfortably for a while. You had managed to sort the campaign into vaguely manageable buckets, and your brain was finally slowing down enough to process other things. 

Like the quiet hum of bass through Heeseung’s headphones. 

Or how he tapped out beats on the desk.

Or the soft smile he had when something on his screen clicked into place.

You glanced over, curious.

“What are you working on?” you asked, voice soft. “Is it… for work, or just something you’re playing with?”

He looked up and pushed his headphones down around his neck. “A bit of both, I guess. It’s something I’ve been producing for a while. A side project.”

You tilted your head, still watching him. “Do you produce for the company? Not just teach vocals?”

He blinked, seemingly a little surprised at the question. “Yeah. I mean, officially, I’m with the vocal team, mostly coaching and arranging. But I co-produce tracks when I can. Some of the groups I work with let me sneak stuff in.”

You smiled, intrigued now. “Anything I might know?”

He gave a small, sheepish laugh. “I mean… probably.”

“Oh?” You leaned forward slightly. “Like what?”

He hesitated, then reached for his phone and scrolled through something. After a moment, he turned the screen toward you. A familiar Spotify page, listing tracks from Enhypen’s last two albums.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Wait. You helped produce these?”

He nodded. “Yeah. ‘Bite Me,’ ‘One in a Million,’ and a couple of B-sides. Some vocal arrangements, too.”

You stared at him, genuinely stunned. “I was so obnoxiously annoying about ‘Bite me’ last year.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly a bit bashful. “Well. That’s a compliment, right?”

You nodded, still reeling. “You’re telling me I’ve been slowly dying under three separate campaign deadlines for Enhypen… and the guy whom I met in a random recording booth while crying my eyes out wrote my favorite songs?”

He grinned, looking down. “I didn’t know you were on their team.”

“I didn’t know you were a genius,” you shot back, smiling now.

He laughed, warm and genuine, and your stomach flipped slightly. 

You looked back down at your notes, flustered. “Okay, well. No pressure. I’m just rebuilding your next concept rollout from scratch.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “Then I guess I should start sneaking you some coffee, because what you gave us for the new changes is hard to do in such a short time frame.”

You barked out a laugh. “Tell me about it, Heeseung, tell me about it.” 

The subway platform smelled faintly of coffee and the sweet smell of the forsythias that were blooming all over Seoul at the moment.

You stood half-asleep in Line 2, wrapped in a cardigan you’d pulled off the back of your chair in a daze. Five hours of sleep, a slice of leftover toast, and a double-shot latte from Megacoffee were all that kept you vertical.

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and you stepped out, the early morning crowd moving with a surprising speed, making you adjust your footsteps to keep up with the crowd.

While you were waiting to check out your t-money cards, you spotted a familiar figure. Heeseung was wearing a hoodie half-zipped and had a big bag slung over his left shoulder. He looked as exhausted as you felt. Considering you left at almost 11 pm and he said he would stay a bit longer, and it was 7:06 am right now, you weren’t surprised. 

“Heeseung!” you said when you were close enough to where he was standing in the crowd. 

He blinked once when he saw you, like it took a moment for his brain to register what his eyes were seeing.

You gave a little wave. “Morning.”

He huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh, falling into step beside you as you both headed toward the exit of the subway station. “Good morning, Y/N.”

“You look like you slept worse than I,” you said, offering him a sideways glance.

He rubbed his face. “I have a meeting slot at seven thirty. Am. Seven thirty a.m.”

You grimaced. “That’s illegal. Call HR.”

He snorted. “Trust me, I’ve thought about it.”

You shuffled across the final crosswalk toward the HYBE building, warm summer wind tussling the yellow flowers slightly.

“It’s so stupid pretty today,” you mumbled.

Heeseung nodded. “It does look really pretty.”

You chuckled. “I love this season. In between summer and spring.”

“I like the quiet in the morning,” he said. “Before the heat kicks in. Or the fans start screaming in front of the building.”

And right on cue, as you turned the corner toward the entrance, you both slowed, spotting the small cluster of fans already hovering by the doors, phones out, whispering, some filming. 

You shared a glance, silently commiserating. 

“Looks like someone interesting walked by,” Heeseung muttered.

You gave them a wide berth, eyes down. “I’ll never understand how they do this every day.”

“Neither do some of the idols,” he said under his breath.

Once inside the cool glass doors, you both paused in the lobby. 

Heeseung gave you a small nod. “Good luck with your soul-crushing deadlines.”

You smiled tiredly. “You too. Have fun with your 7 a.m. meeting.”

That made him chuckle as he stepped into the elevator, lifting a hand in lazy farewell.

You stood there a moment longer, watching the doors close before you moved to your part of the building.

You and Jungwon were staring at your screens for about two hours now, picking and matching fonts together, when he groaned and let his head fall back against his chair.

“No offense,” he said, pointing at the monitor like it had personally wronged him, “but if I see one more handwritten brush font today, I’m going to start biting people.”

You hummed sympathetically. “We just need something clean. And no serifs. Nothing like the old one but kind of like the old one.”

He huffed. “Great, so… Helvetica?”

You snorted, adjusting the saturation levels on a font. The new concept was sleek, a little icy, almost sterile. It was going to be gorgeous. Sometimes, having to do something completely from scratch again results in perfection. But it also meant your eyeballs were bleeding from staring at high-gloss gradients for six hours straight.

Your screen pinged with a message.

[15:16] Lee Heeseung Hi Y/N, could you please come to Room 3C (production suite) when available? We had a couple of questions about the new concept visuals.

You blinked.

Then turned to Jungwon. “Did we miss a sync-up with A&R?”

Jungwon frowned, reading over your shoulder. “I thought the notes weren’t even finalized yet.”

You shrugged and started typing back.

[15:18] Y/N L/N Hi Heeseung, thank you for reaching out. Is this a time-sensitive matter, or would it be possible to align closer to noon? Currently finalizing teaser assets.

His reply came back thirty seconds later.

[Meeting Request: 15:30 – Production Room 3C] Title: Concept Sync — ENHYPEN / Visuals / Sound Direction From: Heeseung, Lee

You blinked at it.

Then looked at Jungwon, who was sipping from his oversized iced Americano.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s… weirdly formal.”

“Right?” you said, clicking Accept with a sigh. 

Jungwon squinted at the meeting invite, then at you. “Who’s Heeseung again?”

You blinked. “He works in A&R. He’s one of the vocal producers on the current cycle. Well, technically, he’s helping with the changes to the title track. They’re rerecording with some of the members today? Wait, let me pull up his profile picture.”

“Oh,” Jungwon said, sitting back, looking at the picture. “That guy. I think I’ve seen him around the elevators. He is quite tall, right?”

You nodded and turned back to your screen. “Yeah. Anyway, A&R and the members were already briefed on the concept changes?”

“Maybe they hate the new font,” he offered dryly.

You let out a quiet laugh, but the thought itched in the back of your mind. Heeseung didn’t seem like the type to waste time. And a meeting this formal? For a few design clarifications, while he works in sound design?

You checked the time.

15:24.

You stood up, smoothing down your skirt. 

“Text me if you hear screaming,” you muttered, grabbing your laptop and notebook.

Jungwon gave a dramatic salute. “Godspeed.”

You gave him a weak smile, headed toward the elevators.

The production hallway was dimmer than the main office floors. You’ve never really been here. This part of the building wasn’t really for administrative employees, so you had to search for the room for a couple of minutes.

When you finally found the room, you paused in front of it, double-checking the invite on your phone:

[Meeting Request: 15:30 – Production Room 3C] Title: Concept Sync — ENHYPEN / Visuals / Sound Direction From: Heeseung, Lee

You inhaled slowly, knocked, and slowly opened the door.

And then… your brain short-circuited.

There, in front of you, standing right there in the recording booth, were Jay and Jake. Jay and Jake from ENHYPEN.

Jake, who was standing behind the glass panel wearing headphones, noticed you the fastes, grinning at you. “Hi! You must be Y/N?”

“Uh,” you said, eyes flicking between him and Jay, who was sitting on a sofa behind Heeseung, outside the recording booth. “I–Hi.”

Your voice cracked.

Cool. Really cool. You didn’t even know if Jake could hear you.

Jay smiled and stood up, offering a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

You took it numbly. “I… know. I mean– Yes. Same. I mean… you.”

Heeseung was sitting in a chair behind the producer’s desk, a few meters behind them, smiling smugly.

“Oh,” he said, as if this were no big deal. “Y/N, you’re here. Come in.”

You didn’t move. You couldn’t move. What was happening? 

Heeseung gestured lazily. “Uh– this is Jake. Jay.”

You may have stopped breathing. You may have also forgotten how to stand.

“What… what is happening?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper as you stepped just inside.

Jay chuckled. “We wanted a bit of outside perspective on the new version. Heeseung said you would be able to give lots of insights into the new concept after the changes.”

You turned your whole head toward Heeseung, expression somewhere between murderous disbelief and you absolute lunatic. He had the gall to smile at you. Teeth and all.

“She’s a genius with designs,” he explained to the guys, tapping at his tablet. “So she should definitely know if the vibe fits. You should have seen her post-it wall, she noted down everything so meticulously, dude.”

You opened your mouth to protest and defend your Post-it wall in the booth. 

“That’s fantastic! We are almost done, Jake and I are going to record a few extra lines, and maybe you could listen to the track to give some feedback?” Jay said, smiling softly. You were talking to Jay Park. What was happening? 

“I–um–I can try?”, you said, tilting your head a bit, and Jay just laughed in response, nodded, and entered the booth.

Which meant it was just you and Heeseung now.

You turned on him, whispering fiercely: “Heeseung. What. The. Hell.”

He raised a brow, unfazed. “What?”

“What do you mean what?! What am I doing here? What are they doing here?!”

“I told you we needed input.”

“You said concept adjustments. Concept. Like… design. You didn’t say ENHYPEN would be here in the flesh.”

Heeseung looked far too pleased with himself. “I thought you might like to meet them.”

Your mouth dropped open. “You–Are you–You did not just casually drop me into a room with two-fifths of ENHYPEN like it’s the most normal thing.”

He lifted his tablet innocently. “I mean. Is it a normal thing for me? I am still friends with them.”

You groaned into your hands. “Heeseung. I’m in a wrinkled shirt. I’ve had, like, one coffee. My hair is greasy, and I smudged my eyeliner.”

“You look pretty,” he said quietly.

You blinked at him. “What?”

He shrugged. “You look fine. You were normal. You also were calmer than I thought you would be. I thought you would freak out more.”

You hesitated. “I didn’t freak out–”

He gave you a look.

“…Okay, I freaked out a little.”

He grinned. “But only a little.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You crossed your arms. “This is unfair.”

Heeseung walked to the soundboard, gesturing for you to follow. “It’s not. You like their music, right? Having a fan’s insight could help us tremendously.”

You exhaled slowly, willing your heart to stop galloping in your chest as you made your way to the chair beside him.

“Fine,” you muttered, cheeks still hot. “But if I say something dumb and they think I am cringe, you’re responsible.”

Heeseung laughed, handing you the headphones. “They won’t. I promise.” 

You watched as Heeseung leaned forward, elbow propped on the soundboard, tapping out the beat with two fingers before adjusting the mic that was on the table.

“Okay,” he said into the mic, his voice calm but precise, “Jay, keep your tone tight here. Don’t overproject. I want more air, less bite. Jake, I know the ad-libs aren’t final, but throw some texture into the bridge. Go off-beat if you want, I’ll clean it up in post.”

Jay nodded, while Jake just gave a lazy thumbs-up. The music started, and both idols started singing.

You turned slowly to look at Heeseung, who was listening intently, eyes flicking from the control board to the monitor to the waveform display. Your brow furrowed deeper with every note.

“Wait,” you whispered, afraid it might interrupt them, “how do they know how to do that? He just–you just gave them, like, five words of instruction and they just…did it?”

Heeseung chuckled beside you, low and soft, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “It’s instinct and training,” he said. “We work off reference tracks and sometimes demo vocals from overseas. Jay and Jake have good ears; they know how to adjust for tone and mood without needing a full breakdown. It’s kind of like… designing, I guess?”

You blinked. “How?”

“Well,” he said, settling back in his chair, “you don’t always tell your team, ‘make the logo 12% smaller and 4.5 degrees to the left,’ right? Sometimes you just say, ‘This doesn’t feel right.’ And they get it. Same thing here at one point, you just hear what you want to do.”

You sat back slowly, watching Jake and Jay take a sip of their waters and readjusting in the small booth. “Okay, that’s actually… cool as hell.”

Heeseung shot you a glance, smug but warm. “Glad you’re impressed.”

“Don’t get cocky,” you muttered, but the grin tugging at your mouth betrayed you.

The session continued, and slowly, your confusion melted into fascination. 

Honestly, it was kind of mesmerizing. Heeseung sat beside you and gave comments, directing his friends and adjusting when necessary. He really must love producing. Somehow, seeing him here instead of in front of the mic with Jake and Jay felt wrong. You have been thinking a lot about how he told you he was a trainee. Him not debuting was weird. He was pretty and talented, and you were sure he had a lot of potential.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed until Heeseung leaned toward the mic again and said, “Let’s take five.”

The booth door opened, and the two boys stepped out, both grinning and slightly sweaty.

“You good, Y/N?” Jake asked as he passed, tossing you a water bottle he’d grabbed from the mini-fridge.

“I–yeah,” you managed, catching it. “No, I’m good. You guys are just… really talented.”

Jay gave you a warm laugh as he walked past. “Thank you so much.”

Jesus Christ, Park Jongseong was breathing the same air as you. 

Heeseung stood up, stretching lightly. “Be right back, gotta tweak something in the vocal room.”

You nodded, watching as he disappeared down the hall. Being left alone with two of your favorite idols. Jesus. 

Your recording booth was a lot smaller, dimly lit, and far quieter than the one you were in earlier today. After about an hour of watching the boys recording one of the B-sides, you had to leave to join a meeting. You were still in disbelief that you had met Jake and Jay today. They were so …nice, and normal. They joked around with you and asked questions about you whenever they were not singing, seemingly being interested in your measly life. Their lives were so exciting, while yours was almost boring, so you didn’t really understand why they wanted to get to know you better. 

You leaned back in your chair. It had been almost a full week since the other group released their video, and the mountain of work your team had to redo was still looming. You had managed to finish about a third of it, but the rest was still open, waiting for the reshoots. And no matter how many times you tried to sit down and focus, it felt like you were just drowning in endless revisions and emails.

Frustration was simmering in your chest, and you needed a break.

You closed your laptop with a soft snap and leaned back, crossing your arms.

Heeseung, absorbed in his music, kept adjusting the sound levels on his tablet, occasionally glancing at the screen in front of him with a furrowed brow. The speakers in the booth weren’t great, but they did the job, playing the track he was working on with a slightly muffled quality.

"Can you explain what you’re working on?" you asked, your voice tinged with exhaustion. Heeseung glanced at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smile. “Sure.” He pulled up a few sliders on his tablet and gestured for you to sit closer to the desk. “I’ve been tweaking some harmonies here and there. You wanna try playing around a bit?”

You moved closer, peering over his shoulder at the glowing screen. He let you try adjusting a few settings on the software, the knobs and dials responding to your fingers in a way that felt oddly satisfying. The sound in the booth changed, layering and shifting as you worked through the track.

After a few minutes of fiddling, you paused, a thought popping into your head. The voice that came through the speakers sounded familiar.

“Wait...” You blinked, your fingers hovering over the tablet. “Is that you?”

Heeseung, who had been watching you experiment with the sound, gave a slight nod, his smirk widening. “Yeah, that’s me. I’ve been adding in some of my vocals to fill the track out.”

You stared at him for a moment, blinking rapidly, unsure if you had heard him correctly. “You... You’re singing in the song?”

Heeseung shrugged, his grin never faltering. “I mean, someone had to do it. The producers and the idols are all tied up with other things, so I thought I’d help out.”

You looked at him, wide-eyed. “That’s... amazing. I mean, I didn't expect you to... you know, sing. Like in the songs. I knew you could, like you know, you were a trainee. But-.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your reaction. “I’m full of surprises.”

You laughed, but it came out a little breathless, more from the shock than anything else. "I— Wow. You really know how to keep things interesting, don’t you?"

His grin widened. “It’s all part of the job.”

You shook your head with a small chuckle. 

You sat in silence for a few beats, listening to the faint loop of the track playing through the speakers. Then, quietly, you glanced over at him again.

“You told me you were a trainee, right?”

Heeseung didn’t look up at first, just nodded once, his eyes still on the screen. “Yeah.”

You hesitated, then asked, softer this time, “Why didn’t you debut?”

That made him pause. His fingers stilled on the tablet. For a moment, he looked like he might brush it off with one of his usual casual shrugs, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned back a little in his chair, letting out a slow breath.

“I trained for almost three years,” he said finally. “Made it pretty far in the process. Thought I was gonna be part of the debut team. We were already learning choreo, recording demos... I was so close.”

You watched him carefully, the change in his tone impossible to miss. It wasn’t bitterness exactly, more like quiet disappointment.

“But they cut me before the final lineup,” he continued. “Said it was a tight call, but that I didn’t quite fit the concept. One day I was in the practice room with the guys, next day I was… out.”

Your chest tightened. “That’s–” You stopped, unsure what words would even help. “I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

He nodded slightly, but didn’t look at you. “I mean, it’s just how it goes. That’s the industry, right? You always know it might happen. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like hell when it does.”

You didn’t say anything, letting him have the silence.

After a moment, he glanced at you and added, quieter, “I didn’t want to just hang around, waiting for a maybe. So I left. Enrolled in uni. Got into A&R later. I still wanted to be around the music. Just… not in front of the camera.”

You swallowed, the lump in your throat catching you off guard. “For what it’s worth, you’re good at what you do.”

He gave a small smile. “Thanks. Took me a while to believe that again.”

You sat back again, letting the track loop one more time. 

“You really can sing,” you said, your voice quieter now. “Like… really.”

Heeseung gave you a lopsided smile, like he appreciated it but didn’t quite know how to take the compliment. “Thanks.”

You tilted your head, watching him fiddle with the EQ levels. “Who did you train with? Back then?”

He glanced over, like the question surprised him. “Uh… I started around the same time as the TXT guys, actually. We were all in the same batch for a while.”

“Seriously?” Your eyes widened. 

He nodded. “Yeah. I am still close with Beomguy. We tend to play lol together if he does get the time to do so.“ He chuckled a little, a mix of fondness and something more wistful. “Later, I trained with Jay and Sunghoon too, for a bit. But I didn’t go to I-LAND with them.”

You frowned slightly. “Why not?”

Heeseung paused, then shrugged lightly. “I’d just gotten into Yonsei. I figured if I wasn’t debuting with that team, I should at least do something with all the time I’d spent studying on the side. It felt like a sign or whatever.”

You nodded, trying to picture a younger version of him, in practice rooms, on stages, performing.. “Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if you did go?”

He hesitated. “Sometimes. Yeah. But I also don’t know if I’d still love music the way I do now if I’d pushed through it back then.” His eyes flicked to yours. “Don’t get me wrong. I respect the hell out of the idols who make it. But… I think I wanted music more than I wanted the spotlight.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just reached out for his hand and gave it a small squeeze. Being so close but still so far away from achieving your dreams while your friends did must be horrible. Your heart was breaking for Heeseung. 

He didn’t look up when he asked, “So how’d you end up in marketing?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. “Marketing?”

He glanced at you, then back at the screen. “Yeah. HYBE. This whole world.”

You leaned back in your chair, letting your gaze drift across the scattered post-its and empty coffee cups. “Honestly?” You paused, debating how much to share. “I wanted to be a baker.”

Heeseung’s fingers stilled over the controls. “A baker?”

“Mm-hmm.” You smiled a little. “Like, own-a-little-café-and-make-pretty-cakes kind of baker. I used to bake all the time. Still do, sometimes, birthdays, project launches, stress-induced insomnia...”

“That explains the cake last week.”

You nodded. “Guilty.”

“So… what happened?”

“My parents weren’t exactly thrilled about the idea,” you said, your smile flattening a bit. “Not a real job, too unstable, that whole thing. Don’t get me wrong. I still love it. But I also liked graphic design. I spent way too much time messing around in Photoshop in high school, and that seemed like a more reasonable job. Something in graphic design.”

Heeseung hummed softly.

“Soongsil had a program that combined marketing and design,” you continued. “I applied on a whim. Somehow got in. And now I’m here. At HYBE. Running on five hours of sleep and three iced Americanos a day.”

He chuckled. “Living the dream.”

“Right?” you muttered, smiling despite yourself. “I still haven’t even met half the artists I used to lose my mind over in high school.”

He shot you a look. “You met me.”

You snorted. “I did. But you’re technically not famous. No offense.”

“Wow.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

Heeseung grinned, then tilted his head thoughtfully. “Would you want to?”

You blinked. “Want to what?”

“Meet more of them. The guys. Or, I don’t know, come with us sometime. When we go out to eat or something.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What?”

He gave a half-shrug. “Obviously, you’d have to sign NDAs, and it wouldn’t be anything wild. But… Jay and Jake said you were cool to hang with.”

You just stared at him.

He raised a brow. “What?”

“You’re joking.”

He shook his head, completely serious. “Not really. I can ask.”

You blinked once. Twice. “I mean. Yeah. Yes? I’d love that? But are you sure?”

“Absolutely.“

Monday, you were the first one in the booth.

The room was still dim and cold when you flicked on the overhead lights. You set your bag down with a soft thud, pulled your laptop from its sleeve, and stared at the wall you’d unofficially claimed for the past week.

Post-its in every color, screenshots printed out and pinned up, concept sketches taped beside side-by-side comparisons of the old and new rollout plans. The teaser stills were up now, too, and one corner held an evolving palette reference that had been mercilessly fine-tuned since Saturday.

Honestly, it looked like the inside of your brain.

Jungwon had helped you most of the weekend, poring over typefaces and tweaking spacing pixel by pixel while eating almost half of the batch of croissants you made for the team as a cheer-up on his own. Neither of you had gotten much sleep, but you were proud of what had come together.

Now it was Monday, and the final design sprint was on.

You pulled out your laptop and your notebook and then and then, with a flick of hesitation, took a small Tupperware box containing two croissants, a strawberry, and one witch pistachio creme and placed it right in front of the screens on the mixing table. 

You sat back on the sofa and stared at your screen, continuing to adjust the promo banner’s line weight.

You heard the door open ten minutes later.

Heeseung walked in, yawning audibly, one hand ruffling through his hair as he padded across the room. He didn’t notice you at first and made a beeline for his chair, eyes fixed on the floor.

Then he stopped short.

You watched him inspect the box. 

“…What the hell?”

You set down your stylus, trying not to smile. “Good evening, Mr. Lee.”

He jumped slightly, then squinted at you. “Did you bring this for me?”

You blinked innocently. “Bring what?”

He picked up the box. “This says my name on it. In your very neat handwriting.”

You shrugged, going back to your laptop. “Figured you deserved something sweet. You’ve been working nonstop too.”

He looked at you back at the croissant and back at you, then opened the lid, picked out the strawberry one, and took a bite. He moaned. Actually moaned.

You glanced over, cheeks growing warm. “Is it okay?”

“You made this?” he said through a mouthful. “Like. You made this?”

“Mhm.”

He took another bite and threw his head back, making another pleased sound.

“Okay,” he said after swallowing, “I want ten more.”

You laughed. “You’ll have to get in line. Jungwon already stole four yesterday. He ate almost all the matcha ones, I almost had to fight him to save you one.”

Heeseung set the box down with care. “Y/N. I would quit my job and follow you to a bakery handing out these things all day long if that means I could eat one once a day.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You would work the counter?”

He leaned against the edge of the table, grinning. “Only if I get paid in croissants.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks warming. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m a visionary,” he said, still chewing. “And this visionary says we’re keeping you busy and stressed if you bake like this on no sleep.”

You smirked and turned back to your screen. “Then get me coffee and I won’t sleep today.”

He saluted dramatically. “On it.”

By 8 PM, the booth had gone quiet again, not from lack of activity, but from pure, unfiltered exhaustion.

The once-crisp brainstorm wall now looked ragged around the edges, corners curling from the humidity. Your Tupperware sat empty beside a growing sea of coffee cups, and your cursor blinked mockingly on the fifth draft of a teaser caption. You didn’t even register that Heeseung had stopped working until you felt a gentle tug on your hair as he walked past the sofa to peer into your laptop.

“Okay,” he said, voice low but firm. “That’s enough. Hands off.”

You blinked, disoriented. “Wait, just let me–”

“Nope.” He was already reaching across to shut your laptop lid. “You’re two eye twitches away from collapsing. I’m not risking a death on my watch.”

You groaned, slumping back in your chair. “I still have so much to–”

“You’ll be useless if you drop dead tonight. Sleep is part of productivity, Y/N.”

“Is that a direct quote from Bang PD?”

“Me,” he said smugly, gathering his things. “Bang PD wishes he were this wise.”

You finally caved and packed up your bag, groaning softly as you stretched. Your limbs felt like jelly. “God. I might fall asleep standing.”

“Then let’s get you on a subway before that happens.”

The subway hummed beneath your feet, rocking gently as the car pulled into your station. You and Heeseung stood side by side, swaying slightly.

“This is my stop,” you mumbled, turning towards the door.

“Oh really?” he blinked. “You live here?”

“Yeah. Near that 24-hour tteokbokki place,” you said, turning to him. “Why?”

He smiled, a bit stunned. “I’m like five minutes from there.”

“What?”, you asked, your eyebrows scrunching together. 

“We've probably missed each other by seconds.”, he said and walked towards the door, waiting for you to follow, before continuing. “I go to that tteokbokki place at least twice a week.”

“Oh really?” you shook your head, smiling. 

“I swear they make a lot of profit thanks to me.”

“So where is your apartment?”, you asked, tapping your T-money card against the sensor to open the gate for you to walk out. 

“Across from that tiny laundromat with the blue sign just down the street,” he said, as the two of you made your way upstairs and outside the subway station. 

You were greeted by pouring rain. “Oh. That’s really close to me, then.”

You used one of your hands as a makeshift umbrella, pressing your workbag closer to you. 

“Do you not have an umbrella?” Heeseung asked, unfolding his and stepping closer so you were hurdled under his together. 

“No. I forgot mine at home this morning”, you mumble, adjusting your bag again so it was protected from the rain. 

“I’ll walk you home then”, Heeseung said and nodded. 

You blinked. “You don’t have to–”

“I want to,” he said, simply.

You both fell into step, feet dragging just slightly on the quiet sidewalk. You walked in comfortable silence for a block or two, the street dim and hushed.

And then, just before your building came into view, you slowed slightly and turned toward him.

“Well,” you said, offering a small smile, “this is me.”

Heeseung nodded, rocking back on his heels. “Right.”

You opened your mouth to say goodbye when he suddenly spoke again, fast.

“Wait–uh, have you eaten?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He shifted, suddenly looking a little unsure of himself. “Dinner,” he clarified, gaze dropping for a second before flicking back to yours. “I mean. Did you eat anything yet?”

You hesitated, then shook your head. “Not really. Why?”

He exhaled like he wasn’t sure if he should keep going. “It’s just–” He paused, then gave a crooked, slightly sheepish smile. “I make really good ramen. Like… really good ramen. And I figured since you fed me the best croissant I’ve ever had in my life, maybe I could return the favor?”

You stared at him for a second, thrown off.

“You… want to make me ramen?”

“I mean, you don’t have to say yes,” he said quickly, suddenly sounding adorably embarrassed. “But I promise they are going to be the best instant ramen you have ever eaten.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself, the sound light and disbelieving. “Are you actually trying to seduce me with ramen?”

Heeseung’s ears turned pink. “Only a little?”

You bit back your grin. “Okay.”

He blinked. “Okay?”

You nodded. “Let’s see if your ramen lives up to the hype, Lee.”

He grinned, eyes lighting up like a kid getting away with something. “You won’t regret this.”

You unlocked the door with one hand and pushed it open with the other, stepping inside and kicking off your shoes with a sigh.

He crouched to undo his own laces, then straightened, glancing around the small space. “You weren’t kidding. We really do live close.”

“Five-minute radius,” you said, dropping your bag onto your sofa. “Honestly, I’ve never run into you before. Weird.”

He stepped further in, still looking around. “Nice place.”

You let out a small, awkward laugh. “It’s a bit of a mess. I didn’t think I’d get any guests today.”

He turned toward you, one brow raised. “This is a mess?”

You looked around—jacket half-draped over a chair, two mugs in the sink, and a few design books scattered on the desk.

“Kind of,” you said, self-conscious.

“No,” Heeseung said gently. “You should see my apartment. Yours looks like an Airbnb listing.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but stopped when you realized he wasn’t teasing. His voice was soft, eyes still lingering on the wall of pictures next to the sofa with something like curiosity.

“Right,” you said, clearing your throat. “Okay. So, um, what do you need to make the ramen happen?”

Heeseung stepped into the kitchen with you, looking around like he was sizing up a mission. “Pot. Strainer. A spoon and a dream.”

You laughed quietly and opened a cabinet. “Okay, I can manage that.”

While you pulled out everything he needed, Heeseung started unpacking the convenience store bag: two packets of noodles, tofu, scallions, two eggs, and a packet of cheese he insisted on buying.

He glanced at you. “Would you like to play some music?”

You grabbed your phone and shrugged. “Sure. What do you wanna hear?”

“Dealer’s choice.”

You picked one of your most listened R&B playlists. The speakers on your counter buzzed faintly as the music kicked in, and Heeseung was already filling the pot with water, sleeves rolled up, head bowed in focus.

You found yourself watching him for a beat too long.

Then you turned to the drawer, pulled out two sets of chopsticks, and set the small two-seater table without thinking, putting everything down meticulously. 

“Sorry for the lack of options with drinks,” you said eventually, twisting the cap off a bottle of water. “I didn’t really plan for dinner company.”

Heeseung looked up from where he was slicing green onions with the dullest knife you owned. “You’re kidding? This is better than most of my actual dinner plans.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Which are what, exactly?”

“Usually just me and a microwaved rice bowl.”

You laughed again, softer this time. “Tragic.”

He shot you a grin. “Hence the ramen upgrade.”

The kitchen filled with the scent of boiling broth and spice. It was quiet, save for the clatter of utensils and the low hum of the playlist. You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him stir the noodles in smooth, practiced motions.

“This feels weird,” you said, after a moment.

He glanced at you, brows raised. “Weird?”

“Not in a bad way,” you clarified. “Just… we barely know each other. And now you’re making ramen in my kitchen.”

Heeseung looked down at the pot, then back at you. His expression shifted, something between amusement and bashfulness.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess it is kind of weird.”

A beat passed.

“But not, like… bad weird,” he added.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Not bad.”

You were halfway through reviewing the teaser layouts when a message pinged your phone.

[10:12 AM] Manager-nim Y/N, please come to Meeting Room 5A. Someone’s waiting for you.

Curious and a little nervous, you made your way upstairs, dodging a couple of rushed interns in the hallway. The second you stepped into 5A, your eyes widened.

Sitting calmly at the head of the small table was Enhypen’s manager.

“Y/N-ssi,” he greeted, standing and offering a small bow. “Thanks for coming. Please, have a seat.”

Your brain scrambled. Why the hell was Enhypen’s manager here? Had something gone wrong with the concept rollout? Was there another delay? 

But instead of pulling up the campaign materials, he slid a neat stack of documents across the table. A thick set of papers clipped together.  On top, in bold print:

CONFIDENTIALITY & CONDUCT AGREEMENT (NDA)

You blinked. “I–sorry, what is this?”

The manager smiled faintly. “Jay mentioned he’d invited you to join the team for dinner next week.”

You stared. “Jay?”

Why would Jay invite you for dinner? 

“The boys are very serious about privacy,” he said, flipping the first page over. “So we have to be as well.”

For the next fifteen minutes, you were walked through every clause of the NDA, contact policies, social media limitations, media interaction clauses, and personal conduct guidelines. You nodded numbly, half in shock, half in awe, as you signed your name at the bottom.

The second you were released, you didn’t even make it back to your desk. You opened your messages and texted Heeseung instead:

[10:52 AM] You: Where are you. [10:52 AM] Heeseung: Vocal Room 3. Just wrapped a lesson.

When you pushed open the door to Vocal Room 3, Heeseung was setting down a water bottle. “Wow, that was fast.” 

“Dude–” you blurted, slapping the door shut behind you. “Are you actually insane?”

He blinked. “...No?”

“You told me I’d have to sign an NDA. You didn’t tell me it was real! I thought you were joking?!”

“I wasn’t.” He grinned, thoroughly enjoying your fluster. “Do you not wanna come?”

You launched yourself at him before you could stop yourself, arms looping around his neck. “Are you kidding?! Of course I want to come! I can’t believe– thank you, seriously–”

You hadn’t even fully realized you were hugging him until you felt that split-second freeze in his posture. His hands hovered in midair like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Oh–,” he muttered under his breath.

You pulled back immediately. “Oh my god–sorry–”

“No, no,” he said quickly, shaking off whatever momentary glitch he just had. His arms settled loosely around your waist. “I just didn’t think you’d be this excited about an NDA.”

“You literally handed me a legally binding document that says Enhypen wants to hang out with me.”

He snorted. “Technically, it just says they won’t sue you if you talk about anything that might happen or will be said.”

You smacked his arm lightly.

He grinned. “We’re going for Italian on Thursday.”

You blinked. “Thursday? Crap–I have the rollout presentation Friday morning.”

Heeseung tilted his head. “Okay… so come over instead.”

“…What?”

“I’ll host. My place. We’ll do pizza or pasta or whatever. Super chill. I’ll tell the guys.”

You stared at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. “Absolutely.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip a little. You tried to pretend your ears weren’t burning as you nodded slowly.

“…Okay,” you said, voice a bit higher than intended. “I’ll bring dessert.”

“You’d better,” he shrugged. “If not, you’re getting uninvited.”

You laughed under your breath as you followed him out into the hallway, heart thudding somewhere between this is so surreal and how is he so nonchalant about this.

He laughed softly, arms coming up to steady you as you practically bounced on your heels. “Okay, okay, calm down. It’s just dinner.”

“It’s not just dinner,” you huffed into his shoulder. “It’s Enhypen dinner. I didn’t even think you liked me that much–”

“I don’t,” he teased. “I just want more croissants.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly but didn’t let go. You were still grinning way too hard to care.

The morning crowd on the subway was… less than forgiving.

You regretted everything the moment you stepped onto the packed train, clutching your bag and a coffee cup against your chest like a shield. Heeseung had met you at your usual stop with a lazy smile and two iced Americanos, one of which you almost spilled when the train lurched forward.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, half-tripping. 

“Hold that,” Heeseung said, pressing his cup into your hand and wrapping one hand around your waist, steadying you. The other shot up to catch the overhead handle just in time. You froze.

Not a single muscle moved.

His arm stayed firmly around you, low and warm and annoyingly natural.

“I was doing fine,” you protested, after a few seconds. 

“Yeah,” Heeseung said, glancing down at you with a raised brow, “you look thriving.”

You shot him a look, but the next jolt of the train had you wobbling forward again. 

And suddenly your entire spine was pressed against Heeseung’s chest, shoulder to ribs.

You were perilously aware of everything: how warm he was, how steady his breathing felt against your back, how he smelled faintly like cologne and coffee. And most of all, how he didn’t move.

If anything, he just adjusted his grip slightly. 

You wanted to say something. Instead, you just blinked at your own reflection in the window and tried not to melt.

“Relax,” Heeseung murmured near your ear, low enough for only you to hear. “I’ve got you.”

You made a tiny, strangled noise, trying not to squeeze the two cups in your hand, while panicking. 

And then, mercifully, the next stop came.

By the time you spilled out of the subway car onto the platform, your legs were jelly and your face was on fire. 

“You okay?” he asked, amused when you handed him his cup.

“Totally,” you wheezed. “Normal. Very normal train ride. Love commuting. Big fan.”

“Good,” he said, sipping his coffee, grinning at you.

The train finally began to slow near your stop, the pressure of the crowd shifting as people prepared to shuffle out. Heeseung’s arm loosened from around you, and you stepped forward as space allowed, finally able to breathe without your heart doing parkour in your chest.

At the platform, the two of you walked in step toward the station exit, letting the rhythm of the morning crowd carry you along. 

Outside, the morning air was already stuffy. You reached the entrance of the building.

You turned to Heeseung. He was already watching you with that unreadable expression of his, coffee cradled in one hand.

“See you later,” you said, a little quieter than usual.

He nodded, mouth tilting up just a bit. “Yeah. Later.”

 By 6:40 p.m. on Thursday, you were this close to crying.

Your desk was a mess of draft decks, color-correction notes, and flagged emails you hadn’t yet answered. Your hands were cold from stress, your jaw ached from clenching, and your chest felt tight.

You were just about finished for the evening when you noticed him standing in the doorway of your booth. His shoes clicked against the polished floor, his movements far too deliberate, too slow, as he made his way toward you.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he said, his voice so sickly sweet you could almost taste the insincerity. “Looking absolutely stunning tonight.”

You blinked, trying to refocus on your screen.

“Is that a new dress?” He leaned closer, his smile stretching too wide for comfort. “You know, I do enjoy when someone can dress for the occasion... So much more appealing to the eyes.”

You barely suppressed a grimace, resisting the urge to curl your lip. You'd chosen the dress that morning because it was a simple yet professional choice. You didn’t think much of it until Mr. Kim made it clear that it had caught his attention in a way that had nothing to do with your work.

His eyes lingered, scanning you too intently for your liking, and the comment that followed only made your stomach churn.

“Quite the distraction, though,” he added smoothly. “Makes it hard for a man like me to focus, Miss Y/L/N.”

You hated how his gaze felt like it was crawling over you, how it lingered a little too long on the way your dress fit and the way you sat at your desk. 

He lowered his voice slightly, the words coated with layers of suggestion. “You know, I could always help you with getting your mind off work... if you needed a break from all this stress.”

Your jaw clenched. A small part of you wanted to retort, tell him exactly what you thought of his “help,” but you knew better. You didn’t want to make a scene. You smiled tightly instead, forcing the words out with as much professionalism as you could muster.

“Thank you, Mr. Kim. But I have everything under control.”

He leaned back, satisfied with your answer, or rather, the fact that you hadn’t rejected his offer outright. You tried to shove the creeping feeling of disgust down. He made a final comment before leaving, "Don't work too hard, Miss Y/L/N. After all, we wouldn’t want you to get too tired in that lovely dress."

You almost threw your stylus at him.

Now you sat slumped in your chair, elbows on your desk.

You wanted to cancel. You really, really wanted to. 

But you couldn’t.

Because Heeseung invited you. Because he was excited. Because you were excited. Because you made tiramisu. Because this was your chance to meet some of the Enhypen members as actual people, not headline acts. 

A knock on the outer glass startled you.

Heeseung.

He walked in smiling, but his expression shifted the second he saw you. You didn’t even have time to straighten up before he crossed the room.

“Hey…” His voice was gentle. “What happened?”

You opened your mouth to answer and ended up just blinking fast.

“Oh. Okay, come here.”

He wrapped his arms around you before you could say anything else. One hand rubbed gently between your shoulder blades.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re okay.”

You sniffed, trying not to fall apart completely. “Sorry. I’m just– I don’t know, I’m just really tired and that asshole came by and–”

“I hate that guy,” Heeseung muttered, pulling back just enough to look at you properly.

His hands came up to frame your face, gentle thumbs brushing at your temples, moving a few strands of hair away with soft care. “You’re doing amazing, okay? Don’t let him make you think differently.”

Your breath shuddered out. “I just… I don’t wanna show up all weird and stressed and ruin the vibe.”

“You’re not going to ruin anything,” he said quietly. “You’re bringing tiramisu. You’ve already won everyone’s heart. Especially Sunghoons. I know he is your bias, so it’s a win, right?”

That got the smallest laugh out of you. He himself asked you if you could make tiramisu. 

He smiled. “Let me carry your stuff, okay? We’ll head to mine, eat too much, and if you want to dip early, I’ll make something up. Deal?”

You nodded slowly. “Deal.”

“And,” he added, lowering his hands but still watching you carefully, “if he ever comes near your booth again, let me know. I’m not management, but I know how to be annoying.”

You laughed again, for real this time. “You? Annoying? Never.” 

The subway car was packed.

Not just crowded, shoulder-to-shoulder, strangers-breathing-down-your-neck kind of packed. You squeezed in just behind Heeseung as the doors hissed shut, the jolt of movement almost sending you stumbling. He caught your elbow instinctively, his hand steadying you for just a second before he let go.

“Seat,” he said quietly, nodding toward the only one available, just a few feet to your right.

You hesitated. “You should take it.”

Heeseung looked at you like you’d suggested jumping onto the tracks. “You’re wearing a dress and heels.”

You blinked. “What does that–”

“Just sit.”

You didn’t argue again. You just slid into the seat, your bag clutched tight in your lap.

He stood directly to your right, one hand braced on the bar above, the other tucked into the pocket of his jacket. The car lurched forward.

Your knees bumped his leg when the train turned.

He didn’t move.

You shifted, trying to give him space, but there wasn’t any. He was close enough that you could smell the laundry detergent on his hoodie. 

Another stop. More people pushed in. He adjusted his stance slightly, his shin brushing against your ankle now, the line of his thigh against yours. 

His eyes flicked down.

Then up again.

Then away.

Neither of you spoke.

You didn’t have to. The contact was small, but your whole body was aware of it.

You stared at the blinking subway map above the door.

One stop. Then two. Almost home.

You tried not to think too hard about how nice it felt, this quiet little moment of being taken care of in the most casual, quiet, unspoken way.

By the time you reached your building, it started raining and you and Heeseung were huddled under his umbrella again. You buzzed yourself in, holding the door with your foot until Heeseung followed.

Once inside, you took off your shoes, motioning toward the living room. “Give me two minutes. Gotta grab the tiramisu and maybe… change?”

Heeseung tilted his head. “Yeah….actually, if you want to, that might be… good?”

You blinked. “Good?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Just figured you might wanna get out of your work stuff, to be…more comfortable. It’s super casual, I mean.”

You nodded slowly. “Got it. Two seconds.”

You disappeared down the hallway, your heart doing something slightly irrational as you pulled open your wardrobe.

Comfortable. Casual. Not… too casual.

You settled on high-waisted jeans and a soft black tank with scalloped straps. Simple. You undid your hair too, shaking it out with your fingers until it settled loosely over your shoulders. You checked the mirror, lips twitching.

And then, without overthinking it, you padded barefoot back into the living room.

“Okay,” you said, leaning against the doorframe. “This okay?”

Heeseung looked up from where he’d been sitting on your sofa, flipping through one of the design magazines you bunkered under the table, and froze. 

His eyes scanned you quickly and then darted immediately to the floor like the entire act of looking had caught him off guard.

“Uh–yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Yeah. That’s–uh. That’s perfect.”

You tilted your head. “You sure?”

“Totally,” he said, too fast. “I mean–it’s not, like–you’re perfect. I mean–not like perfect-perfect, just–you look great. I mean good. Yes.”

You smiled slowly, watching the tips of his ears turn pink. “Thanks, Heeseung.”

He coughed once, avoiding your eyes. “Let’s… let’s go before I eat the tiramisu myself.”

You grabbed your bag again, heart fluttering just enough to make your grin feel dangerous. “Lead the way.”

Heeseung’s apartment was bigger than yours. 

He dropped his keys in the bowl near the door, turning to offer you a small smile. “They said they’d be here around seven-thirty, so we’ve got a few minutes.”

You nodded, clutching the tiramisu like it was a shield. Your heart thudded faster now, not in fear exactly, but in nerves. The idea of sitting down and casually having dinner with ENHYPEN suddenly felt very… real.

Heeseung watched you for a moment, eyes soft. “You okay?”

“Just… mentally preparing,” you said, exhaling. “It’s fine. Totally fine. Just casually meeting five people who were on my Spotify Wrapped last year.”

He grinned. “If it helps, Sunghoon still burns toast.”

You laughed under your breath and were about to respond when the shrill sound of Heeseungs doorbell interrupted you. 

Heeseung raised a brow. “They are early.”

You instinctively stepped half behind him as he opened the door.

“Hyung, I swear to god. I am so freaking hungry if we dont order food immedietely I’ll die,” Jake’s voice rang out as he stepped inside, followed by Sunoo, who immediately toed off his shoes.

“We literally just came back ourselves,” Heeseung replied, letting them all in. “We haven’t ordered anything yet.”

“Man, thats dissapointing,” Jake said, already peeking toward the kitchen where you were standing, next to the tiramisu.

“Hi,” you replied, suddenly aware of how warm your face felt.

Behind him came Niki and Sunghoon, who both had wet hair. All of them were bare faced.

“We’re minus one,” Sunghoon said as he dropped onto the couch. “Jay’s not coming.”

Heeseung blinked. “What?”

Sunghoon shrugged. “His girlfriend started her period today and he went over to her place.”

“That’s… actually sweet,” you blurted.

Heeseung gave a small laugh and motioned toward you. “Everyone, this is Y/N. She works in creative.”

You gave a small wave, not quite trusting your voice again yet.

Sunoo smiled at you, “Nice to meet you Y/N.”

You slightly cleared your throat. “Yeah. Nice to meet you, too.”

Jake stepped into the kitchen. “Wait. Is that the tiramisu?”

“Mhm,” Heeseung said walking over and, setting it in the fridge. 

“Dude I thought you ordered some,” Sunghoon said sitting down on Heeseungs sofa. 

“Yeah. Well, not exactly order, I asked Y/N if she wanted to make some,” Heeseung shrugged. “It’s Sunghoon’s favorite.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You asked for it.”

Heeseung’s expression didn’t even flicker. “Yeah. For Sunghoon.”

You turned to him, deadpan. “Dude. What the fuck. I wanted to make cookies for you cause you said u said they looked yummy and now i made tiramisu for an international super star?”

Sunoo laughed immediately. “Wait, you’re the croissant girl?”

You blinked. “The crossiant girl?”

“But Heeseung didn’t shut up about the croissants for days.”, Jake said plopping down next to Sunghoon.

You looked at Heeseung, arms crossed. “You told them about the crossints?”

Heeseung, who was now pretending to scroll through the pizza delivery app, said nothing.

“I think that’s sweet,” Sunghoon said, leaning back on the armrest. “Even if it’s a little embarrassing.”

“For him or me?” you asked.

“Yes,” Sunghoon replied with a faint smile.

You shook your head, still suppressing a grin. “Okay. You guys want pizza or not?”

“Absolutely,” Niki said. “Half bulgogi, half pepperoni. No pineapple.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jake muttered.

“Do not start a war in my apartment,” Heeseung warned.

While they argued about toppings, you helped Heeseung finish the order. 

Sunoo plopped down next to Sunghoon and patted the seat beside him. “Come on. We don’t bite.”

You hesitated, then sat, keeping your posture neutral, your legs tucked neatly under you.

“Okay,” Jake said, lounging across the arm of the couch. “So what made you want to work at HYBE?”

You blinked at the directness, then laughed nervously. “Wow. Uhm I'm there more or less on accident?”

You glanced at Heeseung, who offered a small nod of encouragement from the kitchen.

“I… actually wanted to be a baker,” you said. “I studied design because my parents wanted me to have something ‘practical’ to fall back on. Turns out I liked it enough to keep doing it. And then one internship led to another, and somehow I ended up designing teaser graphics for idol groups.”

“Do you still bake often, or was it a one time thing for hyung?” Niki asked.

“Mostly for stress,” you admitted. “Or when someone makes a really annoying request for tiramisu.” You shot a glance at Heeseung, who just smiled and opened a cabinet.

“Hey,” he said, mock-offended. “That was a great decision.”

The next morning was already chaos.

You had a stack of revised mood boards tucked under your arm, three poster mock-ups clipped to your tote, and a USB drive clenched between your teeth while you tried not to spill your lukewarm coffee. The team had pulled off near-miracles, reworking concepts, rebuilding a cohesive storyline, and salvaging designs under impossible pressure. And now it was time to present.

Your nerves were frayed and your blouse was wrinkled and of course, of course, the elevator was packed when you stepped inside.

Just as the doors started to close, a hand slipped between them.

Heeseung, headphones around his neck and hair still slightly damp like he’d showered five minutes ago made his way into the packed elevator. He offered you a sleepy smile, eyes darting to the mess in your hands.

“Are you ready?” he asked, leaning slightly against the side of the elevator.

“I am not sure,” you muttered, clutching your things. “Everything breaks if one person blinks wrong.”

“Sounds relaxing,” he said, with a small smirk.

You gave him a half-hearted eye roll, but you were grateful for the few seconds of levity. His presence was oddly grounding. Then the elevator dinged.

And in stepped Mr. Kim.

The air changed immediately.

You froze as the man’s eyes raked across the small elevator car, lingering far too long when they landed on you. Your stomach twisted. 

“Miss Y/L/N,” he said, his tone smug. “Always working so hard.”

You tried to smile without actually smiling, eyes darting to Heeseung, who glanced between you and Mr. Kim.

You gave him a look.

And without missing a beat, Heeseung shifted closer to you, casually, but firmly placing himself between you and Mr. Kim. His hand came up to gently rest on your back, warm through the fabric of your shirt. 

Your breath caught.

As the elevator slowed to your floor, Heeseung looked down at you and gave a quiet, encouraging murmur.

“You got this, babe.”

Your brain short-circuited.

You barely registered the surprised look on Mr. Kim’s face as he blinked at Heeseung, then back at you, as you stepped off the elevator.

“Oh?” he said, clearly trying to mask his annoyance. “You and Mr. Lee are… close?”

Heeseung didn’t even blink. He just smiled.

“Yes. We’ve been going out for a while now.”

Mr. Kim’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave a small nod, like the internal math he was doing didn’t quite add up but he’d decided it wasn’t worth the effort to challenge it, at least not now.

The rest of the meeting passed in strange, almost blessed peace. Mr. Kim didn’t interrupt you once. Didn’t cut off your points, didn’t make snide remarks. He just… sat there. Quiet.

The applause at the end of your presentation felt like a drug. Even Legal had nodded in approval, which was practically a standing ovation. When your manager turned to you with a small, rare smile and said, “Great work. We’re green lit to post. Let’s get this live by Monday,” your knees almost buckled.

You had survived.

You should have felt on top of the world.

Except…

Heeseung had been red on Teams since 10:14 a.m.

You checked. Rechecked. Closed and reopened the app. Still red.

[12:47 PM] y/n: We did it. Greenlight.

No reply.

[2:05 PM] y/n: I brought the fancy draft mockups for you to roast but you’re ghosting me instead, rude

Still red.

You tried to be mature about it. He was busy. Probably. 

Except it stung a little. Okay, a lot. Especially when your manager swung by at 4:30 with a tired grin and a generous offer.

“You’ve earned a break. Go home, everyone. Rest. Sleep. Don’t even look at your inbox until Monday morning.”

And like that, the office emptied.

You took the train back in silence. When you got home, you peeled off your work clothes, cleansed your face, and climbed into your pink kitty pajamas. You slapped on your favorite aloe sheet mask and sank into your couch like a deflated balloon.

You glanced at your phone once more, just in case.

Still red.

At 9:17 p.m., just when you were deciding whether you wanted to start a new drama or rewatch a old one your phone vibrated. 

[9:17 PM] Heeseung: Are you still in the building?

You blinked, stared, then scrambled to type back.

[9:18 PM] y/n: Nope. Left hours ago. Home now.

Three little dots appeared immediately.

[9:18 PM] Heeseung: ...Can I come over? Actually. I’ll be at your place in 5 min. 

You froze and stared at your reflection in the black screen of your TV.

You barely had time to rip off your sheet mask and throw on a hoodie before the doorbell rang.

When you opened the door, Heeseung stood there in sweatpants and a hoodie, holding a bottle of red wine and a guilty expression.

“Hi,” he said, a little breathless. “I forgot how fast I walk when I’m anxious.”

You blinked. “You’re anxious?”

“...Yes.”

He stood there for another second, then stepped inside when you moved back. He hovered awkwardly near the entrance, hands in his pockets now, looking around like he wasn’t sure if he was intruding.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I meant to come by after the elevator. I really did. But the studio called me into something last minute and then I had to stay in the editing room and–”

You blinked, confused for a second. “Wait. You were coming to find me?”

He nodded, sheepish. “Yeah. I wanted to come after you texted me you got greenlit. To congratulate…and to see how you were doing, if he did something again.”

Oh. You thought back to the elevator, Mr. Kim’s eyes on you, his words oily and smug, and then Heeseung’s hand on your back. The quiet “you got this, babe” still echoed in your head like a song lyric you didn’t know how to stop humming.

“I was fine,” you murmured.

He gave you a look.

You sighed. “Okay. I was… about to punch him but holding it together. Professionally of course.”

“I was so mad,” he admitted, voice lower now. “At him. I just—” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I should’ve texted.”

“You were red on Teams all day.”

“I was sitting on the floor with a laptop trying to fix three vocal tracks while my phone was dead in my bag,” he said, smiling weakly. “It was not my most functional day.”

You stared at him, this boy who offered you a tissue when you crashed into his, now your, booth when you were crying, who casually invited you to meet your idols, who fought off your sleazy coworker with just four words and a hand on your back, and felt something soft start to uncurl in your chest.

“Want wine?” you asked, voice gentler now.

He looked up like you’d just told him the world was ending and he had five minutes to enjoy it.

“Yes. So much.”

Fifteen minutes later, you were curled up on your couch in your oversized tshirt and mismatched socks, and Heeseung was beside you, barefoot now, as he poured you both generous glasses of red wine.

Your cat-themed pajama pants were definitely not glamorous, but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his expression had softened the second you shuffled back into the room with your hair damp from a quick rinse and your face washed clean of mask residue.

“You really are glowing when you’re out of that office,” he said, handing you a glass.

You wrinkled your nose. “I think that’s just the very expensive and excessive amount of skincare on my face right now.”

He smiled into his glass as you both sipped.

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, the low flicker of your floor lamp the only light in the room. The Netflix menu looped quietly on your TV, still waiting for a decision you didn’t feel like making.

Heeseung broke the silence first.

“I kept thinking about it.”

You turned your head to him. “About what?”

“The way he looked at you.” His jaw tightened. 

You said nothing. Just reached for your wine again.

Heeseung glanced sideways, then spoke again, softer. “You don’t have to talk about it. I just… wanted you to know I saw it. And it wasn’t okay.”

You nodded slowly. “It happens. More than it should. To more girls than just me.”

He looked at you, brows drawn slightly. “Still not okay.”

“I know,” you whispered.

Another beat passed.

“I didn’t expect you to say it like that,” you said finally.

Heeseung blinked. “Say what?”

“‘Babe.’”

“Oh,” he said, the tips of his ears instantly going red. “Yeah. That was… I didn’t plan that.”

You smiled into your wine glass. “It worked.”

He looked over, surprised. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “He didn’t say a single word to me during the meeting.”

“I’ll call you that again if it keeps him quiet.”

“Don’t push your luck, Romeo.”

That made him laugh, the sound low and honest, and you smiled against your glass again.

Eventually, you picked a movie and settled deeper into the couch cushions. You sat closer now, your thighs brushing once or twice, his knee occasionally bumping yours when he shifted.

By the time the movie was halfway through, the first bottle of wine was nearly gone.

You hadn’t meant to drink that much. Neither had he.

But you kept topping off each other’s glasses in lazy silence, the bottle tipping between you like a slow conversation neither of you wanted to end. The couch had become a sort of middle ground, with two pillows behind your backs and one blanket draped loosely over both your legs. You weren’t sure when that had happened either.

The film flickered quietly in the background, something about a bakery in Paris and a romance that neither of you were really following. Heeseung made a dramatic noise when the lead actress confessed her feelings to the wrong guy, slumping his head against your shoulder.

“Justice for the hot violinist,” he mumbled into your hoodie.

You burst out laughing, setting your glass down before you spilled.

“You’re so annoying,” you said between giggles.

“Am not,” he replied, lifting his head just enough to smirk at you.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t move away.

Heeseung grabbed the second bottle from where it had been sitting patiently by the TV and held it up like a question.

You raised your brows. “You really want more?”

“Yes.” He grinned. “Absolutely.”

You got the cork halfway out before it popped with a little pop that made you both jump and then start laughing all over again. Heeseung nearly dropped his glass trying to pour, his other hand bracing against your thigh for balance, and you swatted at him gently.

“God, you’re clumsy,” you muttered, amused.

“Blame the grapes,” he said, eyes dancing.

You sipped your wine and sank deeper into the couch, your legs half-tangled with his now, your knees bumping, your feet tucked under the blanket. The buzz in your head was warm and a little dizzying. 

“Do you do this a lot?” you asked after a while, your voice soft and hazy. “Stay late at the office? Show up at coworkers’ apartments with wine?”

Heeseung shook his head slowly, resting his head back against the couch. “No. Not really.”

You turned to look at him.

He was already watching you.

“It’s just you,” he added, voice lower now. “It’s always just you.”

You felt your heart stutter in your chest.

Then, to cover it up you reached for your glass. “That sounds dangerously close to flirting, Mr. Lee.”

He grinned, slow and crooked. “Dangerously?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And if I said I meant it?”

You looked at him over the rim of your glass. “Then I’d probably say… don’t stop.”

Both of you were silent for a second, watching each other until Heeseung turned his head towards the TV again.

By the time the second movie started your feet were in his lap, his hand resting lightly against your calf. You were curled up sideways, your cheek brushing his shoulder. At some point, his fingers started tracing slow, absent-minded shapes against your knee.

You felt them even through the blanket.

“You’re warm,” he mumbled, voice muffled into your hair.

You made a soft sound. “You’re heavy.”

“Lies.”

“Truth.“

Your wine glass was empty and forgotten on the coffee table, your head tilted slightly toward Heeseung as the credits rolled over yet another cheesy, completely ignorable romantic subplot. The soft buzz in your limbs made you slower, warmer, and more tangled up in the present than you usually allowed yourself to be.

He hadn’t made a joke in a while.

Which, honestly, was weird.

You shifted slightly, cheek brushing the edge of his shirt where your head had been half-leaning for the last–what, twenty? thirty?–minutes. His shoulder was warm and steady beneath you, but quiet.

Too quiet.

You turned your head slowly.

He was out cold.

His head had slumped just slightly to the side, lips parted the tiniest bit, one hand still loosely holding the stem of his wine glass, though it had dipped into his lap. His other hand was still half-tucked under the blanket near your leg.

You blinked.

“You traitor,” you whispered, grinning.

He didn’t move.

You leaned closer, squinting at his face in the low light. His cheeks were flushed, not just wine-warm, but rosy now, all the way to the tips of his ears.

You couldn’t help it.

You let out the softest, breathiest laugh and murmured, “You’re so red, oh my god.”

You carefully reached out and plucked the glass from his hand before he could spill anything, setting it on the coffee table. Then you curled back into the couch, closer this time, and let your head rest against the curve of his shoulder.

“You laughed through an entire subplot about a pastry chef and her ghost boyfriend,” you whispered into the quiet. “And this is what knocks you out?”

Still nothing.

But his breathing stayed slow and even.

You looked at him again, your smile softening.

He looked peaceful. Not polished or poised or the version of him you usually saw pacing around the studio, just… Heeseung. Slightly flushed, his shirt wrinkeled, wine-drowsy, and entirely asleep in your living room.

And somehow, that made your chest ache in the nicest possible way.

“Guess I’m not the only lightweight,” you whispered, barely audible.

You shifted carefully, moving one arm, then another, easing yourself up from the sofa to go sleep in your bed. 

You didn’t even get the chance to move mor ethan a few centimeters when Heeseungs hand tightened at your waist followed by a quiet, groggy voice.

“…What?”

You froze mid-sit-up and looked down.

Heeseung’s eyes were barely open, squinting in the low light, his lashes heavy against his cheeks and his mouth slack with sleep. But he was awake. Or halfway there.

You smiled, soft. “Go back to sleep.”

He blinked slowly. “Where are you going?”

“My beed,” you whispered, brushing your fingers against his wrist, trying to gently pry his hand off your hoodie. “I was just gonna–”

“No,” he mumbled, arm tightening just slightly, his voice all thick and low and whiny. “Stay.”

You blinked. “What?”

He made a small, disgruntled sound and shifted, trying to pull you back down the way someone hugs a pillow in their sleep.

“Stay,” he repeated, quieter this time, like he knew he was already asking for too much. 

You were about to argue. Say something rational. Like you’d be more comfortable in your bed or he might need space or this is unprofessional, right? But then he made that soft noise again and his fingers caught the hem of your shirt.

And your chest did that dumb, twisty ache again.

So you sighed and gave in.

“Okay,” you murmured, lowering yourself back down. “Fine. Whatever.”

You felt him relax instantly, his arm slipping easily around your waist again, pulling you against his chest with a quiet breath of relief.

His forehead bumped gently against your temple as you both settled back into the blanket.

“You’re so dramatic,” you muttered.

He let out a small, satisfied mmph, already melting back into the couch. And just before sleep pulled you under too, you thought you felt him murmur something else, a quiet, hazy little thank you, into the space where your shoulder met his chest.

Heeseung didn’t stir. Just exhaled softly, mouth twitching. You watched him for a second. The way his hair was a mess, flattened on one side. The way his mouth hung open just a little. The way his shirt had slid up to reveal a sliver of his waist where your hand had been curled all night. You shook your head and padded into the bathroom before your brain could linger on that detail too long. You washed your face, brushed your teeth, and pulled your hair into a low bun. By the time you stepped back into the kitchen, the soft blue light of morning had begun to filter through the curtains. You opened the freezer, reached in, and smiled. You still had a tray of frozen croissants.  You’d rolled and shaped them last week and froze them, just in case you needed some for an emergency. This counted as an emergency. “Perfect,” you murmured. You set the oven to preheat, arranged four pastries on a tray, and grabbed a knife to slice up some strawberries and green grapes you’d had tucked in the fridge. As the fruit hit the plate, a soft creak sounded behind you. You turned, just in time to see a very groggy Heeseung shuffle into the kitchen. His hair was sticking up in three directions, and he looked like he wasn’t really awake yet. He blinked at you. “Why are you vertical?”

You grinned, holding up a strawberry slice. “Because I have a healthy sleeping rhythm and can’t sleep longer than 8 am.” He made a soft, confused noise and collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs, his head dropping forward onto the table with a dramatic thud. You laughed quietly, setting the fruit down in front of him. “Sleep well?” He mumbled something into the wood that might have been yes or kill me, you weren’t sure. You turned back to the oven just as it pinged. The smell of the croissants was already filling the apartment. Behind you, Heeseung groaned. “Are you baking?” You glanced over your shoulder. “You’re the one who told me you’d work the counter at my imaginary bakery if I paid you in croissants.” He squinted up at you, one eye barely open. “You’re baking. At 8 am on a Saturday morning.” You slid the tray into the oven with a smile. “I am. Just for you.” You sat on the small bench by the wall, a mug of coffee wrapped in both hands, your bare legs curled up beneath you. Your shorts were riding up slightly, and your oversized t-shirt hung comfortably off one shoulder, rumpled from sleep.

Heeseung sat next to you, his long legs stretched lazily under the table. One of them bumped against yours. His knee slid alongside your thigh, skin against skin. Neither of you moved. You felt it in your stomach, low and sudden. Heeseung, half-slouched in the chair, blinked once. Then again. His gaze dropped briefly to where your knees touched, then back up to your face. You pretended not to notice. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he let out a quiet hum and slumped his cheek into his hand, eyes only half-open.  “I’m trying to remember if I said anything stupid last night.” You sipped your coffee, lips twitching. “Define stupid.” “Like… did I call you ‘babe’ again?” You smiled into your cup. “No.” He exhaled, relieved. “Just whined like a child until I stayed on the couch.” His head snapped up. “What?!” You grinned. “You literally said, ‘Don’t go yet, just stay.’ And then clung to me like a koala.” Heeseung covered his face with both hands. “Oh my god.” “I did stay,” you added, smug. “So technically it worked.”

“Please erase that entire interaction from your brain.” You let your thigh lean just slightly more into his. “Nope. Gonna treasure it forever.” He peeked through his fingers, groaning. “Why are you like this?” “Because you slept with your mouth open and drooled a little on my shoulder.” He gasped. “That’s a lie.” You shrugged innocently. “You’ll never know.” He squinted at you, then glanced down at your coffee. “Is that the good blend?” You nodded. “Vanilla roast.” He reached for your mug without asking and took a sip, then sighed dramatically. “I forgive you.” “For what?” “Mocking my emotional vulnerability.” You laughed softly, the sound curling between you like steam. When the oven pinged, neither of you moved for a moment. Your legs were still touching.  His knee was still pressed lightly against your bare skin, and your arm was now brushing his where it rested on the bench. It was nothing. And also very much something. Then Heeseung stood up slowly, stretching with a yawn that revealed the tiniest sliver of skin under his t-shirt. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked over his shoulder at you. “You’re burning our breakfast.” Breakfast didn’t last long, but neither of you moved afterward. You stayed exactly where you were: side by side on the bench, your knees brushing, your thighs pressed together, your bare leg warm against his. The soft cotton of his t-shirt clung to his side, and you could feel the rise and fall of his breath every time he shifted. Heeseung sat with one elbow on the table, chin in his hand, half-turned toward you. He hadn’t stopped smiling since the second cup of coffee, his hair still tousled, eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep. You leaned back against the wall beside him, foot nudging his under the table.

“This is weird,” you said. He blinked. “Weird how?” You tilted your head. “I don’t know. I feel like I should be freaking out. You slept over. We’re… close.” He looked down at where your legs were still touching. “Yeah.” “But I’m not freaking out,” you added. He smiled slowly. “Me neither.” You were both quiet for a moment. Then he said, voice barely above a whisper, “It’s nice.” You nodded, looking down at your empty plate. “Yeah.” His hand moved slightly under the table. His pinky nudged yours. You didn’t pull away. Instead, you moved your hand and intertwined your fingers with his long ones. And when you turned your head to glance at him again, he was already looking at you, something soft and unspoken flickering behind his eyes. “I could stay like this all day,” he murmured. You smiled. “Then stay.” Heeseung didn’t answer right away. But he didn’t move either. And neither did you.

The booth was quiet except for the occasional soft click of Heeseung’s mouse. It was already late, past golden hour, and the air outside had cooled from its blistering midday heat into something softer. Muggier, still sticky, but breathable. You sat on the couch with your legs tucked under you. A bottle of cold green tea sat between your knees. You’d finished your last rollout file before dinner. Technically, you could’ve gone home. But instead, you waited. You liked waiting. Because it meant walking home with Heeseung. That had become your favorite part of the day over the last weeks. He pulled off his dress shirt and was only wearing the white tank top he always wore underneath. His hair curled a little at the edges when he got too warm, and he kept pushing it back with one hand, blinking hard at the screen. You checked the time. “Almost done?” you asked, voice low, lazy. He didn’t look up. “You don’t have to wait.”

“I know.” His mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. He continued working for a few more seconds, and then he sat back in his chair and let out a dramatic exhale. “Okay. I think I’m done for today.” You grinned. “Took you long enough.” He finally turned to look at you. And then didn’t look away. His gaze dropped to your bare legs curled on the couch, to the faint line of sweat at your collarbone, to the gentle flush on your cheeks. He blinked once. Twice. His mouth parted like he wanted to say something, but forgot what. You just raised an eyebrow. “Ready to go?” He stood, grabbing his dress shirt, putting it on again, and held the door open for you with that same crooked, tired smile he always had at the end of a long day. The hallway was empty, the whole building humming quietly. Your footsteps echoed softly as you made your way toward the elevator. Outside, the streetlights were just flickering on. A warm wind blew past, thick with summer and stillness. Heeseung walked beside you, your shoulders occasionally brushing, your hands swinging just close enough to touch.

The hum of the AC buzzed low through the apartment, doing its best against the weight of the summer heat a few days later. The heat seemed to get worse every day, clinging to your skin and making it impossible to breathe. Your AC had sputtered and died two nights ago, and since then, you’d been semi-permanently relocated to Heeseung’s place. Today, after work, you kicked off your socks and curled up on his couch, legs bare, feet tucked under a throw pillow. The oversized t-shirt you wore hung down past your hips. You stole it from him after he spilled tomato juice on your at-home T-shirt the day before. It still faintly smelled like his cologne. Your shorts were barely visible beneath the hem. Heeseung stood in the small kitchen, barefoot in a black tank top and old sweatshirts, elbows braced against the counter while he adjusted something in the blender. You’d watched him add frozen banana, ice, peanut butter, a protein scoop, and almond milk. His brow furrowed in concentration as he pushed the button. You flipped a page in the book resting across your thighs. And then didn’t read a single word of it. You were too busy ogling Heeseung in a very professional, not inappropriate way, colleagues? Friends? His muscles were taut from leaning over the counter, jaw set, skin glowing slightly from the walk home, strands of now red hair curling over his forehead from the heat. The edge of his tank had dipped low, revealing the clean cut of his shoulder and the line of his collarbone. His arms flexed slightly as he twisted the lid back on. You licked your lips and quickly looked back at your book. He wiped his hands on a towel, completely unaware of the crisis you were currently having ten feet away. Or maybe not, unaware he’d caught you staring once already when he was adjusting the fan, and you swore he smirked. You turned to another page you hadn’t read.

“Still good over there?” he asked, his voice teasing, lazy. “Barely,” you called back. “I'm still melting. I don't even wanna imagine how warm my apartment is right now.” He grabbed two glasses from the shelf. “I expect your eternal loyalty and gratitude for granting you shelter from the heat .” You gave a dramatic sigh. “You get two compliments and one baked good per week. That’s the cap.” “I already get that,” he called back. You smiled to yourself. “Then I’ll consider bringing you lunch to work sometimes.” He froze just long enough for you to see it out of the corner of your eye. Then he laughed, soft and breathless. “Noted.” You peeked up again as he walked over, two glasses in hand. He handed you one, fingers brushing yours, and settled onto the floor, leaning back onto the couch. You stared down at him, still flushed from the heat, or maybe not only the heat. “Comfortable?” you asked, sipping your smoothie. “Very.” He tilted his head back lazily until it rested against your knee. “Book good?” You stared at the unread page. “Incredible.” He looked up at you, one eyebrow raised. “You haven’t flipped it in five minutes.” You pressed the book gently to his forehead. “Shut up.” He grinned, eyes crinkling. The two of you went silent again, and after a while, your hair slipped into his hair, playing with the dry strands and grazing your nails along his scalp while you actually started reading your book again. Heeseung let out a long, contented breath. “I like having you here.” You paused. Then said, just as softly, “I like being here.”

Half an hour later, the smoothie was half-melted in your glass. Your book sat open in your lap, though you had to re-read the same paragraph three times thanks to the way Heeseung’s arm kept brushing against your side. He was still on the floor, and at one point, you joined him there, the sofa’s velvet texture feeling too warm against your skin. Your whole body was leaning against his, your head resting softly on his shoulder, and your legs draped loosely to the side. From Heeseung’s laptop, which was propped up on his thighs, came the steady pulse of a new track, layered synth, subtle guitar… and a voice. You blinked, looking up. “Wait. Is that Jay?” “Mhm.” Heeseung didn’t turn around, just scrolled through something on his screen. “He dropped by to do a scratch vocal for one of the demos. I haven’t layered the harmony yet, but his tone worked weirdly well.” You stared at the screen. Jay’s voice.

On his song. In this apartment. While you were wearing Heeseung’s shirt and drinking smoothies with your legs tangled against his, and a half-read book in your lap. You let out a quiet laugh and muttered, “My life is so weird.” Heeseung looked over his shoulder. “Good weird?” You met his eyes. And immediately regretted it. Because he was already looking at you the way he always did when you caught him off guard, soft, curious, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing but knew he didn’t want to stop. His face was close now, your head still on his shoulder, your fingers curled loosely in the fabric of your shirt right above where your thigh still pressed against his. “Very good, weird,” you said quietly. Heeseung’s gaze dropped to your mouth. Just for a second. Your heart thudded. But he just moved his head back towards the laptop. The soft sounds of Jay’s vocals looped again from Heeseung’s laptop. You could see it in his profile, that sharp little line between his brows. The tension in his jaw. He was thinking again.

Which meant he wasn’t going to do it. You waited another second. Two. Gave him a chance. He didn’t take it. So you did. You closed the book gently and set it aside, leaned over just enough to catch his attention, and when he looked up, eyes wide and questioning, you kissed him. Pressing your lips to his. You didn't even really think about it; it just felt right. He froze for half a second, just enough for you to second-guess it. But then his hand slid to your thigh, fingers tightening. His other reached for your waist, softly grazing against the fabric of the shirt. You pulled back first, just barely, your nose brushing his. He stared at you. His eyes were glazed, and his mouth parted slightly. You smiled and breathlessly muttered. “You took too long.” He blinked. “You–” His voice cracked. “I was trying to be respectful.” “You were being a coward.” “I was waiting for a sign!” “Heeseung, I gave you so many signs.” “I’m not a mind reader!”

You laughed into his neck, warm and breathless and giddy. His arms slipped around your waist properly now, hugging you close, face buried in your collarbone. He mumbled something into your skin. You stilled. “What?” He stiffened. “Nothing.” You leaned back just enough to look at him. “What did you say, Heeseung?” Heeseung stared, wide-eyed. Then blinked once. “Hypothetically. I really want to kiss you again.” You grinned, pulling him back in by the collar of his tank top. “Hypothetically, I think you should shut up and kiss me again.” So he did. His lips moved slowly and steadily against yours, and you moved your head slightly to the side, deepening the kiss for a second before he pulled away first this time, breathing heavier than before, his forehead resting against yours.

You could feel how warm his skin was. His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” You smiled. “Yeah. I noticed.” He gave a soft, helpless laugh and bumped his nose gently against yours. “So… now what?” You looked at him, all flushed cheeks and messy hair and wide brown eyes, and knew you never wanted someone else to see him like this ever again. “I don’t know,” you said honestly. “But I like this.” “Yeah?” he asked, eyes searching yours. You nodded. “Yeah. I like you.” He let out a breath like he’d been holding it for days. Then, with that lazy, crooked half-smile you were quickly learning was dangerous, he said, “Can I kiss you again?” You raised a brow. “You’re asking now?” “I’m being respectful.” You leaned in. “Then yes.” Your hand slid into his hair, thumb brushing the curve of his cheek when his lips were on yours again. His lips were on yours again before the word even left your mouth. His hand slid from your waist to your hip, palm splayed wide over the soft fabric of your shorts, fingers flexing slightly. You shifted into his lap without thinking, tilting your head, knees brushing his thighs. He made a sound in the back of his throat, and it made you smile against his mouth. “Stop laughing,” he murmured. “You make weird noises.”

He groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “You’re impossible, Y/N.” You laughed, soft and breathless, fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Sorry, not sorry.” He kissed your collarbone next, just a warm brush of lips against skin. Then another, lower this time. Your breath caught.

He pulled back instantly. “Okay?” You nodded, cheeks flushed. “Yeah. Just… yeah.” His hands found your waist again, more certain now, thumbs brushing bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. Your thighs tightened around his lap just slightly. He inhaled sharply. “Y/N,” he said, like it was a question and an answer and a prayer all at once. You kissed him again. This time, you were the one deepening it. Your fingers curled in the collar of his tank top, pulling him in closer, angling your hips until your bodies fit together just a little too well.  You could feel the shift in him, the way his hands stilled, the way his breath hitched when your thighs pressed around his. But he didn’t push. He didn’t even pull you closer. He just let you kiss him, his lips soft and slow, like he’d waited long enough that he didn’t want to ruin it by rushing. Eventually, you both stilled, foreheads pressed together, noses brushing, lips kiss-dumb and smiling. “You good?” he asked softly, his thumb tracing lazy circles at your waist. “Yeah,” you whispered. “Really good.” “I swear,” he muttered, breathless, a little dazed, “I had this whole thing planned out.” You tilted your head. “What thing?”

He gave a weak huff of a laugh and shook his head, cheeks flushed. “To tell you. To ask you out. I didn’t think I’d just..get kissed out of nowhere and completely forget how to speak like a normal person.” You smiled, fingers brushing his wrist. “Heeseung.” “I’m serious,” he said, laughing softly, reaching up to caress your face. “I had it all laid out. I wrote you a song.” Your brows lifted. “A song?” He hesitated. Then nodded and reached for his laptop that was lying forgotten next to the two of you and tapped at the keyboard with one hand, the other never leaving your waist.

“I wrote it like a month ago,” he said quietly. “Kind of… when I realized.” You rested your head on his chest, watching him type. “When you realized what?” you asked. He didn’t look at you. But you saw the corner of his mouth pull up just a little. “That I really like you too, Y/N.” And then he hit play. The track started low, just a few notes of piano, slow and thoughtful. It was… beautiful. You didn’t even realize you’d moved until your hand slid down to his chest, your palm resting flat just over where his heart was pounding. Heeseung moved his head back slightly to look at you. You leaned in, brushed your lips against the edge of his jaw, and whispered, “I’m really glad I kissed you first.” He laughed, just once, softly and short, and pressed his forehead against yours. “I was so scared I’d mess it up,” he said into your lips. “I wanted it to be right.” You held him close, one hand carding gently through his hair. “You didn’t mess anything up.” He tilted his head, eyes bright. “You think?” “I think,” you said softly, “this might be the best song anyone’s ever written for me.” He smiled and whispered, “That’s good. Because I’m not writing another one about anyone else.” You closed the distance between the two of you again, pressing your lips softly against his.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty

all feedback and reblogs are welcome ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ my masterlist ⭑.ᐟ

ᝰ taglist. @enhastolemyheart @dreamiestay @elairah @vviolynn @engenemilia  @xylatox @firstclassjaylee

ᝰ an. ₊ ⊹  dear anon, I am so sorry I needed 3 months to write this and I hope you enjoyed reading, regardless of the wait! I also hate tumblr. I just spend one and a half hour formatting this. Also in case someone wants to request anything! Please do! Just know I'll probably do it inbetween my other projects and might need...like 3 months lmao

[wonarchy]

CROSSING LINES — L.HS

ᯓ pairing : best friend's brother!heeseung x f!reader

ᯓ synopsis : you never expected a simple sleepover at your best friend’s house to turn into something dangerous. heeseung — jena’s older brother, known for his effortless charm and terrible habit of flirting — was supposed to be off-limits. but stolen glances turn into lingering touches and teasing grows bolder. every visit makes it harder to pretend nothing is happening, and every almost-moment leaves you wanting more.

ᯓ wc : 11.5k

ᯓ warnings (MINORS DNI) : heeseung is around 26 here and reader is 21, smut, softdom!hee, little bit of sub!hee at the end, piv, unprotected sex (don't!!!), tit play, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, pet names (pretty, baby, seungie, hee calls reader good girl like two times...?), bigdick!hee, riding, missionary, hee is lowk vocal here....

ᯓ author's note : first smut here,, pls bare w me, i am not good :c

the hallway was loud after class, but you and jena had already slipped into your own little bubble — walking side by side, sharing a bag of chips, trying to decide where to spend tomorrow's sleepover.

"your place?" jena offered, kicking a pebble across the pavement. you shook your head, "my room's a mess... and i don't feel like cleaning," you admitted. "same," she sighed dramatically. "i haven't done laundry in, like, a week." you both paused at the entrance steps, staring at each other with the same defeated expression before you burst out laughing.

"so where do we even go, then?" you asked. "hm..." jena tapped her chin, "we could go to a 24 hour cafe and pull an all-nighter."

you wrinkled your nose. "uh— no. i just wanna curl up somewhere comfy."

"hotel?" she inquired.

you responded, "we are literally broke."

jena looked down before replying, "true."

and there was a moment of silence, then jena snapped her fingers. "okay, then we'll do it at my place," she announced. "it's okay, i'll beat my laziness and tidy my room. plus, my fridge is full, and we can be loud without anyone yelling at us because my parents are on a business trip."

"perfect, i'll bring snacks," you grinned.

you bumped shoulders with her as you headed toward the bus stop, already imagining the pile of blankets, the stupid romcoms, and the late-night gossips.

at least, that was until jena added, almost too casually, "oh, by the way... my brother's home."

you turned your head to look at her, "your brother? the one everybody talks about?"

she blinked furiously, "uh, well— yeah, him."

you'd heard of him, of course. everyone had.

lee heeseung.

a campus legend without even trying to be. the tall, effortlessly attractive engineering alumni who people pointed out from afar but never approached.

jena once showed you a candid photo of him grabbing coffee, and even in the blurry shot, he looked unfairly good — messy golden brown hair, long fingers wrapped around a cup, and that stupidly sharp jawline.

apparently, he kept to himself, didn't go out of his way to talk to anyone, and yet every time he showed up on campus to pick jena up, people whispered like he was some celebrity.

you'd never met him. he was just a myth contained inside jena's stories.

you opened your mouth to ask something, but jena cut in immediately, holding up a finger. "and before you say anything, stay away from him," she stated firmly.

you squinted, "what?"

"i'm serious," she stopped walking, turning to face you with the most dramatic older-sister energy ever. "he's annoying, and he's a flirt when he's bored. and you—" she poked your arm, "—are off limits."

you chuckled. "off limits? why? we haven't even met."

"exactly, and i'd like to keep it that way. i know my brother. he sees someone cute or easy to approach, and he starts... teasing," she rolled her eyes.

"teasing?" you frowned.

"yeah. like, annoying-you-into-liking-him teasing. it's disgusting," she shivered. you shook your head, laughing again. "jena, relax. i'm not gonna fall for your brother."

"good," she huffed, "and he better not fall for you."

that same day, at the lee house, jena pushed open the front door with her hip. the house was quiet except for the soft hum of music coming from the living room.

heeseung was there, sprawled on the couch in a loose white tee and grey sweats. his hair a little messy from a nap and his eyes were glued to his phone.

he didn't even look up when she walked in.

"hey," she greeted, dropping her stuff on the floor. "i have news, but don't get too comfy," she added. heeseung hummed without interest. "what, you finally decided to move out?"

"i wish."

she kicked his foot, and only then did he look up, one brow raised lazily. "what is it?"

jena crossed her arms dramatically, "i'm having a sleepover tonight," she declared. heeseung blinked. "okay? you do that all the time."

"yeah, but it's at our place this time."

he put his phone down for that, eyes narrowing slightly like he was already suspicious of where this conversation was going. "who's coming?"

"yn."

the famous yn.

the best friend jena talked about literally every week. the girl who showed up in photos on jena's phone. the one with the bright smile, soft eyes, and pretty laugh he always heard stories about but never in person.

heeseung sat up slowly, stretching an arm over the back of the couch.

"oh," he responded, pretending to be casual, "choi yn?"

"yeah. why'd you say it like that?" jena's eyebrows scrunched together. "like what?" heeseung frowned back.

"like you recognized her."

he shrugged, "you talk about her a lot. and i've seen pics."

jena paused, squinting at him, "don't."

he was taken aback, "don't what?"

she pointed a finger at him, threating him. "don't mess with her. she's my best friend and she is off-limits. she's immune to your bullshit."

"why are you acting like i'm some kind of menace?"

"you are," she deadpanned. he lifted his hands in surrender, "i'm not gonna do anything."

"promise?"

he nodded, "promise."

jena narrowed her eyes even more. "you know how you get when someone cute comes over."

"i don't 'get' any type of way," he said, rolling his eyes. "i'm not a dog."

"yes, you are, heeseung," she snapped. "and yn is adorable, so stay. away."

heeseung's jaw tightened a little — barely noticable, but enough for jena to crack. her eyes widened, "oh my god. you think she's cute, don't you?"

he raised two hands in defense, "i didn't say that."

"you didn't have to."

heeseung sighed deeply, rubbing his face. "look, it's just..." his sentence dragged as he looked at jena.

"one night," jena answered. he inhaled sharply before continuing, "exactly! one night. i'll be normal. i'n not gonna tease her or whatever."

jena narrowed her eyes one last time, like she was scanning for the lies. "good, i'm trusting you," she said. he nodded, but as she walked away, he finally let his thoughts wander. to the girl in jena's photos, the one who apparently was going to be here tomorrow.

and for the first time in a while, he felt a tiny spark of curiosity. nothing dangerous. just enough to make him wonder :

"what's she like in person?"

the evening came faster than expected, but you were ready nonetheless.

your backpack felt way too heavy for a simple sleepover — stuffed with snacks, pajamas, and the blanket you refused to share.

by the time you reached jena’s front door, the sun was already starting to dip, painting the house warm and soft. you knocked once, and before you could lift your hand again, the door swung open.

“finally,” jena said, grabbing your wrist and tugging you inside. “i’ve been waiting forever. i already set up the living room, snacks, blankets, everything.”

“you act like we’re preparing for war,” you laughed, kicking your shoes off.

“a sleepover is war,” she argued. “against boredom.”

you rolled your eyes, already feeling that warm comfort settle in your chest. you loved being there — the smell of laundry softener lingering in the hallway, the messy pile of shoes, the faint hum of the fridge.

you set your bag down just as a soft door clicked open deeper inside the hallway, followed by slow, heavy footsteps.

jena groaned immediately, “oh, great. he’s awake.”

you turned, and whatever you were planning to say disappeared.

heeseung stepped out of his room like he hadn’t fully decided to be awake yet. his hair was sticking up in every direction, shirt too big, and his sweatpants hung low enough to make your breath catch for a second. he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, blinking himself into focus.

he blinked at you once, then twice.

and suddenly, he was wide awake.

he stared. not in surprise, more like he was trying to understand why someone like you was standing in his house looking the way you did. his eyes trailed over you slowly, like he forgot to hide it.

you stood perfectly still.

jena muttered something like, “oh, come on,” under her breath.

heeseung pushed off the doorframe, straightening slightly. the sleepiness faded, replaced by something sharper. he walked closer, his steps unhurried, gaze never leaving yours.

“you must be yn,” he said quietly, voice rough with sleep. “i’ve heard a lot about you.”

your pulse jumped.

you nodded, hoping your face wasn’t betraying you. “yeah... that’s me.”

he smiled. it was small, lopsided, and he looked too confident for someone who clearly woke up three minutes ago. “do you know my sister never shuts up about you?” he asked, tilting his head a little.

jena slapped his arm so fast it echoed, “heeseung. don’t start.”

“i’m not starting anything. i’m just saying hi,” he protested, though he didn’t take his eyes off you. not even once.

jena shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “don’t mess with her,” she said firmly. “i mean it.”

you were definitely blushing. you could feel it spreading across your cheeks, your ears, your neck. and of course, heeseung noticed.

heeseung lifted both hands in surrender, “i won’t,” he promised, even though the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips said otherwise.

“i’ll be good.”

jena grabbed your wrist again and pulled you toward the living room, muttering complaints the entire way.

the rest of the sleepover settled into that easy rhythm — snacks everywhere, a movie paused at the first minute because neither you nor jena could agree on what to watch, and the warm atmosphere of the house.

you were in the kitchen, pouring drinks, when you heard the slow footsteps approaching. you didn't need to turn to know who it was.

his presence felt different, like the air shifted whenever he walked in.

you kept your attention on the cups, pretending not to notice him leaning against the counter behind you. at least not until he moved.

the touch was small, barely anything, but enough to make you freeze. he brushed behind you as he reached for the fridge, his hand grazing the small of your back, feather-light. maybe accidental, maybe not.

his voice came right after, "excuse me."

you swallowed, "you could've gotten to the fridge without passing me."

"yeah," he said, opening the fridge door, the cold light spilling across his face. "but i wanted to get past you, so..."

you shot him a look and he just smiled. you stepped aside quickly, hoping he didn't notice the warmth creeping up your neck (he definitely noticed).

a few minutes later, something similar happened again.

this time, you were reaching for a bowl on the kitchen shelf, stretching on your toes. you almost got it. your fingertips brushed the rim of the bowl, but you lost your focus when a hand rested lightly on your hip.

not pulling, not holding. just settling there.

"careful," he murmured behind you.

before you could turn around, his other hand reached over your shoulder, long fingers effortlessly plucking the bowl from the shelf you were struggling with.

the closeness made your breath hitch — his chest brushing your back, his chin almost dipping toward your neck. he handed you the bowl, eyes innocent but mouth curved into that stupid, slow smirk.

"you look like you needed help," he said softly. you swallowed, "thanks."

"anything for you," he smiled, letting his hand slide away from your hip much slower than necessary.

your heart was doing somersaults, and he looked far too pleased with himself. you walked back toward the living room, trying to act unaffected. but from behind you, you heard him chuckle once under his breath. the kind that said he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

the movie had finally started. well, it played in the background while you and jena kept pausing it every five minutes. she eventually got up with a stretch. "i'm gonna shower real quick," she announced. "don't eat all the snacks without me."

"no promises," you joked.

she rolled her eyes and tapped your forehead before dissapearing down the hall.

once again, you heard those quiet footsteps somewhere behind the couch, that same lazy pace he always walked with, like nothing ever rushed. then, he appeared, towering over you.

"this seat taken?" he asked, pretending innocence terribly.

you squinted your eyes at him, "you have your own room."

before you could argue more, he sat down. close. closer than anyone needed to be on a whole empty couch.

heeseung leaned back, stretching an arm across the backrest behind you. he wasn't touching, but it was close enough that you could feel a tingle.

"yeah," he replied, tilting his head, "but i like it better here."

your breath caught. his eyes flicked down, catching your reaction before you could hide it. his mouth twitched like he had to stop himself from smiling too wide.

you turned your attention to the movie, trying to act unbothered, but heeseung didn't make that easy.

every few seconds, he shifted, just a little, though. just enough for his knee to bump yours, for his fingers to brush your arm whenever he reached for popcorn, for his thigh to press against yours like it belonged.

and every time you reacted, even the smallest ones, he noticed.

you felt his gaze, heavy and amused, watching you more than the screen.

finally, he leaned in a little closer, voice barely above a whisper. "you're easy to read, you know," he teased. "no, i'm not," you stated, eyes still on the screen

he let out a soft, warm laugh, "then stop looking so cute every time i move."

you froze. he didn't.

he just kept watching you, chin propped on his hand, like you were more entertaining than the movie playing in the background.

the bathroom door finally opened, steam drifting into the hall. jena stepped out, towel around her neck, and immediately narrowed her eyes when she saw him. "heeseung. what are you doing here?"

he shrugged, "sitting," he said smoothly.

she gave a tight smile, "on the couch. next to my friend," she shot a glare towards her brother. "i just wanna join," he replied, completely unfazed.

jena stared at him for a long, suspicious moment, then sighed. "fine, whatever. but stop bothering her."

"i'm not," he said, though the smirk on his lips said the opposite.

jena dropped onto the other side of you, grabbing a blanket and draping it over your legs.

you truly offered your best to focus on the screen again. but heeseung, he shifted closer once more, just enough for his knee to press into yours again. and when he felt you tense for half a second, he didn't comment. he just smiled to himself like he'd found a new favorite way to entertain himself.

the night crept in quietly, and jena didn't make it past the second movie. she barely lasted then minutes before her head dropped onto your shoulder.

"i'm... awake," she mumbled, already asleep.

you and heeseung exhanged a look, him amused and you stifling a laugh. eventually, you nudged her up and helped her to her room. she collapsed drmatically onto the bed, mumbling incoherent threats about snoring.

you tucked the blanket around her and finally stepped back, exhaling quietly.

heeseung didn't join you. he disappeared somewhere down the hall as soon as you closed jena's door. and you told yourself you were relieved by that.

you needed distance. your heart needed distance.

but lying there next to jena, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, house too warm, the blankets too heavy, your brain refusing to shut up — sleep didn't come.

after minutes of tossing around, you sat up carefully, not trying to wake her. you slipped out of the room, padding toward the kitchen for milk while keeping your steps light.

but when you turned the corner, he was already there.

heeseung leaned against the counter beside the sink, lit only by the small under-cabinet light that cast a warm, gold glow across his face. his hair was slightly messy again, his hoodie handing loose on his frame.

he looked up the second you appeared, eyes catching yours like he'd been waiting without admitting it.

for a moment, neither of you spoke.

"i didn't know you were still awake," you started the conversation.

"couldn't sleep," he murmured.

you nodded and glanced toward the fridge, trying to act normal. "me too."

he nodded once, slow, like he understood exactly why you couldn't.

you walked toward the fridge, your fingers brushing the island lightly to avoid making noise. the quiet made everything feel sharper — your breathing, the distance between you, the weight of his gaze you could feel even as you looked away.

the fridge whirred softly as you opened it, cool light spilling out onto the dimly lit area.

when you grabbed a juice box and closed it, he was still looking at you. not teasing, not smirking, just watching.

you cleared your throat, gripping the box a little too lightly. "i'm just gonna— go back after this."

he tilted his head, voice dropping to a whisper that wrapped around you like a warm breath.

"you look cute when you're tired."

your heart stuttered. your fingers tightened around the small box. you looked away instantly, maybe a bit too fast, as heat crept up your neck. "don't say stuff like that."

his lips curved into a knowing smirk, "why not?"

and gosh, you needed a second to breathe. so you stepped past him, your heart thudding loud in your chest, the juice box cold in your hand as you walked away.

he moved, just a slow push off the counter, hands in his hoodie pockets, steps soft on the floor as he followed you out of the kitchen. "going back already?" he asked quietly.

you stopped in your tracks, not daring to turn around. "i said i would, didn't i?"

the house felt even quieter out here. the only light came from the kitchen, warm and low, spilling just enough to outline his figure as he stepped closer.

he moved, now in front of you, yet you still didn't look at him.

"you didn't have to run away," he said.

you breathed in too sharply, "i wasn't running."

"right, you were just walking really fast for someone who wasn't."

his voice dipped into something gentle. the kind of teasing that didn't poke, just brushed softly over your nerves, warm enough to make you feel it everywhere.

you finally glanced up at him.

big mistake.

he was looking down at you with that same quiet focus from the kitchen. he wasn't smirking, wasn't smiling, but studying you like you were something he wasn't expecting to be this drawn to.

he stepped a little closer, still slow, still giving you room to move away if you wanted. but you didn't.

his gaze slipped down to your lips for half a second before lifting again.

"come here," he whispered.

you didn't move, but your body leaned in the tiniest bit, like gravity had opinions of its own. and maybe that was all he needed.

because his hand lifted slowly, fingers burshing lightly along your cheek before drifting to your hair. he hesitated for a breath, giving you a chance to pull away.

but you didn't, so he kept going.

his fingers slid a strand of hair from your face and tucked it gently behind your ear, his touch barely-there, warm anough to melt something in your chest.

you froze completely.

and that was when his mouth curved — soft first, then sharper, settling into a full, knowing smirk. "there it is."

"what?" you breathed, barely able to get the word out.

his eyes softened, but the smirk stayed. "that little reaction you keep trying to hide."

you wanted to say something back, something smart and confident, but nothing came out. your throat was too tight, your heartbeat too loud, your skin tingling where his fingers had been.

he stepped back half a step, giving you space again, hands sliding back into his pockets as if he hadn't just short-circuited you on purpose. "you should get some sleep."

and then, like he hadn't just ruined your entire nervous system, he walked away, leaving you alone and speechless in the dark hallway.

you barely got any sleep that night. when you entered the room and hopped back on the bed, you couldn't bring yourself to feel comfortable or cozy. you finished your juice in five minutes, staring blank into the wall, thoughts filling your head.

"what the fuck just happened?" you whispered to yourself.

when morning came, you sat up on the bed.

the room was cold, the curtains were thin enough for the sunlight to seep through in soft stripes. jena was still curled up beside you, snoring a little. you blinked slowly, still half-asleep, and the first thing in your mind wasn't the brightness or the aching stretch in your back.

it was heeseung.

the kitchen last night, his voice low, his fingers brushing your hair, and the way he looked at you like he already knew you better than he should.

your heart did that annoying little kick again.

you slipped out of bed carefully, tiptoeing so you wouldn't wake jena, smoothing down your shirt as you left the room. you walked down the hallway, rubbing your eyes.

as soon as you stepped into the living room, you heard a faint clatter of something metal, the sound of a pan being moved, the fridge opening and closing.

of course he was awake.

you took a step into the kitchen and there he was, standing at the stove with his back to you. his hair was still messy from just waking up, sleeves pushed up in a way that was unfair for so early in the day. the morning light hit him in patches, outlining his shoulders, his jaw, the slope of his neck.

he glanced over his shoulder the second he sensed movement.

"good morning," he greeted.

you tensed for a beat, "morning."

he smiled, slow and small, the kind that makes your stomach flip because it means he's really looking at you. "jena's still asleep?"

you frowned, "you're really asking that?"

he let out a tiny laugh under his breath and turned back to the stove, flipping something in the pan with a practiced ease.

and then, he looked over at you again. he observed you — the way you rubbed your arm because you were cold, the way you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, the way your hair was tousled.

you felt your face warm instantly and tried to pretend you were just looking around the kitchen, anywhere but at him, but he didn't stop. he didn't even pretend to.

he leaned one elbow on the counter, still holding the spatula loosely in his hand.

"why are you looking at me like that?" you whispered, unable to keep the shyness out of your voice.

"just checking if your awake."

and he didn't say another word. he just kept watching you every now and then like you were the most interesting part of the morning.

suddenly, like a miracle, jena entered the kitchen with her hair sticking out in every direction, squinting like the lights offeneded her. "morning," she mumbled.

you let out a tiny breath of relief, like her presence grounded you a bit. but heeseung? his attention was still on you, but it just shifted in a slower, more deliberate way now that jena was here.

"you're up early," she said to him suspiciously as she grabbed a cup of water.

he raised his eyebrows, "i couldn't sleep."

your eyes flicked to him. liar. he slept fine. you knew that because you could hear his loud snoring through half the night. he caught your reaction, the tiny twitch at the corner of your mouth, and his lips curved upward just barely.

he slid a pancake onto a plate, turned off the stove, and without missing a beat, he handed the plate directly to you.

not to his sister. not on the table.

you.

"eat before it gets cold."

jena blinked between the two of you like she walked in on something, then frowned, "why are you guys being weird?"

you almost choked on air. "we're not," you insisted a little too quickly.

you sat and tried to focus on your food, ignoring the way heeseung sat across from you, elbows resting casually on the table — and also how his eyes kept lifting every few seconds to look at your expressions, your movements, your everything.

and then, he started. not the obvious flirting from last night, but something softer.

"did you sleep okay?" he asked you, tone light enough that jena wouldn't notice anything. you nodded slowly, "yeah."

"you always wake up this early?" his voice dipped just a fraction, gentle and curious like he was storing the information. you sighed before answering, "sometimes..."

"hm," he leaned back slightly, looking at you in that innocent way he only used when someone else was in the room —totally different from the way he looked at you earlier.

and then, a final, subtle question slipped out. "what do you usually eat for breakfast?" it was simple, guiltfree even. but his eyes told a different story, almost like he wanted to know more, wanted to know you, piece by piece.

you opened your mouth to answer, but the sound of jena clearing her throat cut between you.

"seriously. what the fuck is happening right now?"

you tensed, but heeseung just took another bite of his food like what jena had just asked was nothing. "we're literally just talking," he answered.

jena's suspicion didn't go away. if anything, it sharpened as she chewed on her food, eyes bouncing between the two of you like she was trying to solve some puzzle.

but then, her phone buzzed. she glanced at the screen, groaned, and stood up from the table.

"ugh, mom's calling. i'll be right back."

you nodded while the man in front of you just hummed. you didn't realize how tense you were until jena walked out of the kitchen and down the hall, her voice fading away.

you felt it immediately. the shift, the awareness, the silence that wasn't really silent.

heeseung let out a slow breath like he'd been waiting for that exact moment. his eyes lifted to you, "she's always so dramatic," he complained.

you tried to laugh, but it came out soft and nervous. "she's not dramatic."

he raised a brow, "really? because she acts like i'm a criminal for talking to you," he rolled his eyes. you fiddled with your fork, "maybe because you're a flirt."

he smiled teasingly. "only when i want to be."

you didn't breathe for a second. he let the words sit there, let you process them, let the warmth rise in your cheeks again.

you looked down at your plate, not able to hold his gaze any longer, but he wasn't having it. not when he had you cornered in the sweetest, quietest way possible.

his foot nudged yours under the table. you glanced at him, eyes wide, and he smiled. it was genuine.

"you're cute when you're all flustered like this."

your fingers tightened around your fork, "stop—"

"why?" he cut you off, tilting his head, eyes warm. "you don't like it?"

you opened your mouth to respond — you didn't even know what you were about to say — but he leaned forward a little, resting his chin on his hand, staring at you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.

"i'm just being honest. you don't want honesty?" he added.

your heart pounded, and right when the moment grew warm enough to melt you, jena's footsteps echoed toward the kitchen.

heeseung didn't look away. you did.

he just leaned back casually, picking up his fork like nothing happened at all.

but when jena reentered the kitchen, rambling about their mom, he flashed you the tiniest smile. like the two of you were sharing a secret she almost walked in on.

the rest of the day moved in a blur, and suddenly, it was already afternoon.

you and jena were stuffing blankets back into her closet, laughing at how the room somehow looked messier after cleaning. she talked nonstop — about school, about next weekend, about a new café she wanted to try.

you nodded along, but the whole time, you felt him.

heeseung didn’t make himself obvious. he never did. he just appeared in the edges of things, like walking down the hallway, opening the fridge, or passing by the doorway. he was just always in your line of vision for just long enough to make your heart hitch.

by the time you had your bag zipped and slung over your shoulder, the sun was dipping, warm and golden through the windows. “come here again next week! i promise i’ll stay up for the movie marathon next time,” she beamed in excitement.

you barely got the chance to respond because the moment she stepped back, you sensed someone else behind you. you turned, and there he was, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. jena didn’t even notice him for she was rummaging for her jacket.

heeseung’s eyes flicked down to your bag, then back up to you. “you’re heading out already?” he asked, voice low in a way that felt like it filled the entire hallway.

you gulped, “yeah. um… i’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

and just for a mere second, you saw a tiny, little pout show up on his lips. “shame,” he said softly, “thought you’d stick around a little longer.”

your cheeks warmed immediately. jena cut in while putting on her jacket. “don’t bother her, hee. she has a life,” she muttered. heeseung didn’t look away from you when he replied, “i’m not bothering her. right, yn?”

you didn’t know what to say.

jena sighed dramatically and pulled open the front door. “okay, let’s go before he starts being weird.”

you stepped into your shoes, and jena headed down the steps first while talking about some assignment you both had to finish.

and then you felt it. he’d followed you to the doorway.

“hey,” he said quietly. you turned, heart tight. he stood much closer now. close enough that you could see the faint sleep-crease still pressed into his cheek.

“thanks for… hanging around the house,” he said, scratching lightly behind his ear. “it was… nice.”

it wasn’t only what he said. it was also how he said it — soft, careful, and honest in a way that made your stomach twist.

you nodded once. “yeah. it was,” you gave him a smile. he huffed a little laugh, eyes dropping to the floor then lifting back to you. “maybe next time i’ll actually see you more.”

before you could even process that, jena called from the bottom of the steps. “yn! let’s go!”

you turned to leave, but heeseung moved one step closer, lowering his voice just for you.

“bye, yn.”

you swallowed, whispering, “bye, heeseung,” your voice barely audible, but enough for him to smile like he heard it perfectly.

you followed jena down the stairs, trying to keep your breathing normal. but halfway down, you glanced back. he was still standing in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other resting against the frame, watching only you.

and his eyes stayed on you, all the way until you turned the corner.

you started coming to the lee house more often after that weekend. partly because jena kept dragging you over for study sessions and movie nights, but also because something about that house pulles you in.

every time you stepped onto the porch, your stomach did that little flip, the one you pretend not to acknowledge. and somehow, every single time you arrived, heeseung was already there, present in a way that felt too intentional to be a coincidence.

the first afternoon you showed up again, jena shouted from the kitchen, "oh, hey! you're early," while rummaging for snacks. you slipped off your shoes quietly, smoothing your hair, trying to act normal.

and then the one and only, heeseung, appeared.

he didn't say anything at first. he just leaned against his doorframe with that stupid half-amused expression he always wore around you now, arms crossed like he'd been expecting this exact moment.

"back again?" he asked, teasing curling around every syllable.

you blinked, trying to your steady your breathing, "jena invited me."

"mm," he hummed, slow like he didn't believe that was the whole reason. then, he eyed you before adding, "you nervous?"

you froze for half a second — just long enough for him to catch it. his smile deepened, lazy and knowing.

"don't worry. i'll be good." he very much would not be.

the next visit wasn't much different.

you walked in with jena, laughing about something trivial. jena went to her room to grab something when you heard thumps coming your way. heeseung appeared again, hair damp form a shower, tank top hugging his figure.

"oh," he said, eyes dragging over you for a beat too long. "hey, pretty."

your eyes widened slightly, "huh?"

he shrugged like it was nothing, wiping at his wet hair, "i said, hey, pretty."

your face went warm immediately, and saw it. of course he saw it, his grin grew full of satisfaction, like he said it just to watch you unravel. this time though, you didn't fully shy away. you nudged him slightly as you passed, muttering, "you look like you just woke up."

his reaction was instant. his eyebrows lifted, smile spreaded, and a spark lit behind his eyes. "oh? she teases back now, huh?"

the teasing only got worse — or better. it depends.

the next time you came over, jena ran upstairs to grab something she forgot, leaving you in the living room alone. you were scrolling on your phone when you felt a presence behind you.

"you really don't get tired of coming here, do you?"

you didn't flinch this time. you didn't step back. you just turned your head slightly, meeting his eyes over your shoulder. "maybe i like the company," you said, soft and careful, but bold enough to make his eyebrows rise.

"jena's company?" he took a step closer.

you hummed, pretending to think, then let your eyes drop to the exposed skin at his collarbone before looking back up.

"hm... sometimes."

his breath caught. actually caught. and the smile he gave you wasn't the usual lazy smirk. it was something darker, warmer. something that showed how he hadn't expected you to push back like that.

"careful," he leaned in closer, mouth close to your ear now. "you're starting to sound like you're flirting, pretty."

you tilted your head, letting your hair fall to one side — and god, the way he looked at your neck made heat crawl up your spine. "maybe i am," you whispered back.

he inhaled slow, like he had to steady himself, and you felt his fingers lightly graze your shoulder.

"don't start something you can't finish."

and for some reason, you knew he wanted you to start it.

later that day, jena forced you and heeseung into the living room to pick a movie. she sat on the floor, legs spread out, scrolling through titles. you and heeseung ended up on the couch behind her. no, not touching, but the two of you were close enough that you could feel the heat of him.

he leaned back, spreading his arm over the back of the couch. "you're being quiet," he said softly, eyes lowering to your lips for a split second.

you didn't look back at him. "maybe i behave when you're around."

he scoffed out a laugh, leaning forward. "pretty, you behave the least when i'm around."

you nudged his thigh with you knee without even thinking, just a little, just enough for him to feel it. he froze, then exhaled a quiet curse under his breath. "fuck, you're gonna kill me."

the teasing should've stopped there, but it didn't. because for the first time since all of this started, you didn't want it to stop even the tiniest bit.

this time, jena had gone to her room again, said she was gonna go look for her charger, leaving you and heeseung alone in the living room with the abandoned movie credits on the screen.

heeseung sat back on the couch, pretending to scroll on his phone, but he wasn't truly paying attention. he kept glancing up at you, admiring you.

you reached to pick up a blanket jena had handed you earlier. you shifted from your position and the sight you created nearly made heeseung lose his mind.

your hair fell over your shoulder, and your shirt slipped just a little off the shoulder. and his eyes dragged up your arm, your neck, your profile, slowly like he was afraid to blink and miss something.

"so, you always stare that much or is it just for me?" you asked.

his phone stopped moving completely. he blinked once, "i wasn't—"

you cut him off. "it's fine," you mumbled, eyes on the tv instead of him. "you're not very subtle."

he inhaled sharply, all the air suddenly punched out of his lungs. "what are you doing?" his voice lowered.

you turned your head just slightly, meeting his eyes for only a second before looking away again. "nothing," you chuckled. "just noticing things."

his smile cracked. "you're really doing this to me?" he whispered.

you hummed and stretched your leg, the movement making your knee slide against his again. "why? is it working?" your eyes met his this time.

he set his phone down without breaking eye contact. you felt the air shift — warm. charged, pulled tight between you. "you have no idea, pretty," he breathed.

you bit back a smile, leaning back like you were perfectly calm depsite the hear between you.

and then you teased him one final time. slowly and knowingly, you reached out and brushed a crumb off his shirt with your fingers, letting them stay just a second too long on his chest before pulling back. "there, thought i'd help."

he actually had to close his eyes for a moment, composing himself. he took a slow breath, frocing it out through his nose. "you know, if you keep doing stuff like that... i'm not gonna able to play nice anymore."

you cocked an eyebrow, "maybe i don't want you to."

his jaw clenched. and right when he was about to say something back—

"hey! i found it!" you heard jena yell from a distance.

heeseung exhaled, leaning back and running a hand over his face. he looked at you like you were about to ruin his entire life.

but deep inside, he loved every second of it.

the week after, you and jena planned yet another sleepover. where? the lee house, of course.

that evening, the sun was already setting when you walked up the familiar path to the house, your tote bag bouncing against your hip. you didn't think twice as you punched in the gate code jena gave you a few weeks ago.

you didn't text to confirm, didn't worry about timing. you had come over dozens of times lately and jena always swung the door open with some chaotic greeting. and today felt no different.

but when you stepped inside, the house was quiet. "jena?" you called out softly.

no answer.

you stepped further in, and a voice sounded from the hallway. "she's not home."

heeseung stood there, leaning against the wall with a lazy tilt plastered on his face. his eyes were already fixed on you as if you were the exact thing he wanted to see.

"extended dance practice," he pushed off the railing and walked down the last step, "she texted me."

you frowned, "she didn't text me."

"yeah," he said, "figured."

there was a pause before he continued, "you can wait here if you want—" he cut himself off. then, almost too casually, he said, "actually... i needed help with something."

you raised a brow, "with what?"

"come with me, pretty," he replied without answering, already heading toward his room. you hesitated for a second, but you followed anyway.

the air grew warmer the closer you got to his room. he pushed the door open and stepped inside, leaving it half-open behind him for you. his room smelled like him — clean laundry, faint cologne, something warm and boyish that settled too easily in your chest. the lighting was soft, the curtains half-drawn, the sunset bleeding inside.

he motioned toward his desk. "was trying to fix something with my speaker, but it keeps glitching. maybe you're good luck," he said.

you stared at him, squinting your eyes. "you should just call a technician, 'cause i cannot do this."

he turned to you, leaning one hand on the dask. "i don't want a technician, though," he said, gaze fixed on you. you looked at him, confused.

he continued, "i want you."

your breath caught. your fingers actually curled against your sides, grounding yourself.

you stepped closer intentionally and he noticed instantly. then, the room felt too warm, too small. "so what's really wrong with the speaker?" you questioned, trying to focus on the object instead of the way he was watching you.

he stepped closer and whispered, "nothing."

he let the silence settle for a beat, then leaned in just a little more.

"you know you're driving me crazy, right, pretty?"

your chest rose with a small breath you couldn't swallow and your heart thudded so loud you swore he could've heard it. "i know," you answered.

the room went still.

heeseung's eyes dropped to your lips and stayed there like he'd been holding himself back for god knows how long. he leaned in a fraction, enough for you to feel the warmth of him and make your breath stutter.

the air between you felt thin and fragile. his fingers twitched at his side, fighting every instinct telling him to close the distance.

you whispered, barely audible, "heeseung..."

he leaned in again, slowly and carefully, wanting to savor the moment before he gave in, his nose brushed yours, just the lightest nudge. you felt his hand lift, hesitating in the air like he was deciding whether to cup your jaw or hold your waist.

but then, a sharp, mettalic clang echoed from outside.

the gates.

heeseung froze, and you too.

the moment snapped like overstretched rubber. "shit," he breathed, stepping back a tiny inch.

your hands had subconsciously curled into his shirt. you didn't realize until he gently eased them off with a soft, shaky laugh — the kind of laugh someone lets out when they're both frustrated and trying not to look too affected.

"she got here faster than i expected," he dragged a hand through his hair.

"i— we should—" you stammered, heat still blooming across your neck.

"yeah," he gulped. "yeah, we should go."

but neither of you moved. not immediately. the room was still thick with what almost happened. he finally forced himself to step away, grabbing a hoodie off his chair and tossing it on like it would somehow conceal the fact he looked breathless.

"act normal," he said, voice low.

"normal," you repeated, "right."

he gave you a glance. he held it a beat too long, biting down a smile he absolutely didn't want you to see.

then, he nodded toward the door, "come on."

you followed him, both of you silently trying to erase the tension from your bodies, smoothing your expressions, straightening your clothes. but every step felt charged, like you could still feel the ghost of ihs breath brushing your lips.

as you stepped outside onto the porch, the gates rattled again.

heeseung nudged your shoulder subtly, a tiny push to remind you to keep it together.

you forced a smile just as jena spotted you. "oh, yn! you're here already."

"yeah. thought practice would end as usual," you said, voice maybe too normal.

"nope," jena laughed. "we got extended today. heeseung told you, right?" she nodded. you opened your mouth, but before you could answer, heeseung spoke, "yeah, she just got here. i told her like— two minutes ago."

you glanced at him. he didn't look at you. but his hand brushed yours for half a second — a touch so subtle that jena didn't notice, but enough to send your heart spiraling.

soon, the three of you sat in the living room like always, but everything felt different. you could feel his gaze the entire time and made your skin prickle.

whenever jena spoke, you nodded along, but every few seconds, you caught heeseung watching you from across the couch. his knee bounced slightly, his thumb dragging slow circled on his own palm.

but slowly and surely, you could feel his self control lessen.

that midnight, the house was silent. again, you laid awake in jena's room for almost an hour, eyes wide open in the dark, replaying the moment over and over again — the way he looked at you, the way you leaned in without thinking, the way your lips hovered so close, your breath mingled with his.

it was impossible to sleep after that.

so you slipped out of bed, careful not to wake jena, and tip-toed outside toward the kitchen hoping a glass of water would calm your heartbeat.

yet the moment you stepped inside, you saw him leaning against the counter, hair messy like he ran his hands through it. he looked up at the sound of your footsteps, and the faintest smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

none of you dared to speak first. there was just a thick, charged silence.

his gaze followed you as you walked to the sink, as you reached for a glass, as you tried not to shake.

finally, he broke the silence, "couldn't sleep again?"

you didn't look at him, "not really."

there was a pause, a long one, and then he hummed like he already knew why. you could feel his eyes, your fingers tightening around the glass.

"you keep thinking about it?"

you gulped and placed your glass down., "thinking about what?"

his quiet laugh came from right behind you. "don't do that, pretty. you know exactly what i'm talking about."

you turned to face him, heart doing that stupid jump it always did around him. he was closer than you thought. his chest almost brushed yours.

"it was nothing," you said, even though the both of you knew it was the biggest like you had ever told.

he tilted his head, seeing straight through the act. "you sure?" he asked. he stepped in the tiniest bit, but it pulled the air right out of your lungs. "cause it didn't feel like nothing."

you were nervous, crazy nervous. and the first thing you could let out your mouth was, "you leaned in first."

that made his smirk change, "but you did too. so we both wanted it."

you didn't deny it, you couldn't.

he moved then, carefully like he didn't want to spook you. his hands lifted, brushing your hip before landing on the counter behind you.

"i'd make you tell me to stop," he murmured, eyes on your lips.

he added, "but i don't think you want me to, pretty."

your heartbeat felt loud in the quiet kitchen. you didn't push him away, didn't say stop. and he understood.

he dipped his head slowly, giving you every second to move or pull back, but you didn't. his nose brushed yours and you felt his smile when you inhaled sharply.

impatient, you spent no time closing the gap between you two. his lips finally connected with yours. he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you flush into him. his lips danced with yours slowly, softly, passionately, and it made your mind spiral.

you pulled away to catch your breath, and he looked at you with a smile, a genuine one.

"i've wanted to do that since the moment i met you," he confessed.

you chuckled, "me too."

you leaned in, meeting your lips with his again. you grasped his shoulders, moaning into the kiss. hearing the sound you made, heeseung groaned and deepened the kiss. it soon became hotter and rougher, full of need.

his tongue traced your bottom lip, asking for access. without thinking twice, you opened your mouth just the slightest bit, and he spent no time shoving his tongue inside your mouth. the kiss became messier, your spit and his mixing.

his palms moved to the back of your thigh. you took in the signal, jumping into his arms. heeseung picked you up like you weighed nothing.

eventually, his legs moved without letting go. he brought the two of you to his room, shutting the door once inside. he placed you on the bed gently, breaking the kiss.

his lips moved to your jaw, then your neck. he planted soft kisses on them, then sucked on the skin and you hissed at the feeling.

he looked up at you, eyes pleading. his hands were on the rim of your tshirt, "may i?" he asked for permission. you couldn't form words, too caught up in the moment. you nodded and he took your tshirt off gently, throwing them carelessly.

and you swore you saw his eyes light up when he figured you didn't wear anything underneath it.

easy access.

he licked his lips before sticking his tongue out and flicked it on one of your buds. you squirmed, "fuck, heeseung—" you cut yourself off with a gasp when he sucked on it.

he let go of it with a pop and he chuckled to himself. "you like that, pretty?" he asked. but before you could even respond, he moved to the other, suckling on it. you moaned at the feeling of his warm mouth around your nipple.

"such perfect tits, baby," he praised as he landed pecks all over your breasts. he fondled them and nibbled on your soft skin, groaning, "could play with them all night."

you felt his calloused fingers run over the rim of your pajama shorts. he slipped his hand inside. and when he left a feather-light touch on your panties, your breath got caught in your throat.

"but your pussy's so wet, it's practically begging for me."

you visibly shivered at his words. "heeseung— please," you cried. his smirk widened, "please what baby? i need you to be specific," he mumbled as he peppered kisses on your stomach. you groaned, acknowledging the fact that he was teasing you.

"please. touch me."

he planted one last kiss right above the waistband of your shorts, "good girl."

he slid them off you, leaving you in your underwear. he spread your legs apart, enough for him to slide his figure between them. "you're soaking through, pretty."

he circled his thumb around your the wet patch, making you throb more underneath his touch. soon after what felt like hours to you, he finally took your underwear off.

"your cunt's so fucking pretty," he complimented, eyes looking at it in awe. he was face to face with it, close enough that you could feel his hot breath fanning over it. without any hesitation, he licked one a long stripe. you arched your back, hand reaching to grip his hair. not pull, not push, just to get a hold.

"so sweet," he murmured, before enveloping your pussy with his mouth.

and god, were you on cloud nine.

you'd never felt a mouth so skilled, he made you see stars. his tongue was lapping you up so messily, his lips now covered in both your slick and his spit.

you tugged on his hair, making him let out a groan, and the sound only made you reel more. "feels so fucking good, seungie!" you whimpered at the feel of his mouth.

he grunted, pulling you closer by the thighs, but also burying his face more deeper. "can't get enough of this pussy, fuck—" his voice was mumbled as he continued to swallow your juices.

you bit your lip to quiet yourself when you remembered jena, your best friend, his sister, wasn't far away.

"don't hide your pretty moans, baby, please," he begged, looking up at you with his doe eyes. you moaned at the sight, satisfying him. as he continued his penetration on you, you quivered and shuddered.

it was rather difficult for heeseung as well. his cock was throbbing, only grazing the material of his sweatpants every now and then. craving pleasure, he started grinding into nothing — into the air. it was little, but he was aching and anything would help.

i mean, you were so good for him, all naked and sprawled on his bed. how could he resist?

soon enough, you could feel a familiar knot in your stomach. "shiitt— i'm so close," you said, legs starting to twitch in his hold.

you started to shake, pleasure now unbearable. but heeseung, he only made it worse (better).

he let go of one of your plush thighs, two fingers slamming inside you in one swift movement as he sucked on your clit.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you received immense pleasure. his fingers curled inside you, hitting a spot you didn't even know exist. everything he did — the feel of his warm mouth engulfing your cunt, his digits shoving in and out, his other hand holding you open for him — it was too much.

but at the same time, it was too good.

your pulse quickened as you felt the need to release, "fuck—! i'm gonna cum— please let me cum," you cried, hips now grinding against his face.

"mmh, shit— cum on my face, baby. please, i need it—"

you cut him off with the most pornographic moan he'd ever heard. you arched your back and pulled his hair as you climaxed. your hips jerked whilst heeseung's hold on you tightened.

he lapped up all your juices, swallowing and not wasting a drop. "taste so good, pretty. best pussy ever," he smirked, standing back up, fingers leaving your cunt. he looked disheveled — his chin was glistening, eyes shining with need, hair messy.

you were too blissed out to respond to him. your breath was heavy, chest rising up and down from the extreme shockwaves you felt.

heeseung bent down to capture his lips with yours again, and you could taste yourself in his mouth.

you pulled away from his mouth, "i wanna make you feel good, too, seung," you mumbled, words unclear but he heard it all. he chuckled at your state. "you can do that next time, pretty, i wanna focus on you tonight."

you nodded at his words, making his smile widen. "do you have a condom, baby?" he asked, suddenly remembering. you stirred, "i'm on the pill," you reassured which made his eyes shine. he quickly straightened and took off his top, along with his other garments. you nearly drooled at the sight — his abs were toned, and his cock was thick, long, and flushed at the tip.

he caught you staring, "like what you see?" he laughed lightly. you blinked, pulling you out of your thoughts. you breathed, "i—i don't think it'll fit..." you bit your lip.

"i'll make it fit."

his firm voice made you gulp. he caressed your hip, "i want you to ride me, baby. can you do that?" he asked for consent.

you were unsure of yourself, but you imagined him under you, and you answered, "mhm."

without further ado, he sat beside you and pulled you to sit atop him. you lined him up against your entrance, still hesitant. heeseung noticed, "you okay, pretty?" he held onto your waist, massaging it. "'m a bit scared," you mumbled.

"you can do it, just take it slowly, mkay?" his voice was gentle. you nodded at his words.

you started sinking down on him. the stretch was intense, making you whimper. "mm, fuck—" you whispered as he split you open.

he hissed at the feeling of your hole enveloping him, even though it was barely halfway. you continued to take him in, his cock going deeper than you thought it'd be.

when he was finally buried to the hilt, you moaned along with him. you could feel him in your stomach, twitching. "so tight, pretty—fuck," he voice was strained.

you took a moment to breath before starting to grind slowly. and almost immediately, heeseung's grip on your waist tightened. your breath hitched at the depth of his cock. "eungh— so deep—!" you sped up your movements.

heeseung threw his head back onto the headboard, starting to pant. he then lifted his hands off your waist and grasped your tits. he launched forward and stimulated your breasts, kneading and suckling on them. you gasped and clenched around him, making him let go of your tits with a loud moan.

"do that again," he ordered.

and just like he told you, you tightened around him again, earning a groan from him, "good fucking girl." you bit your bottom lip at the look at him — messy and full of pleasure under you.

just how you imagined.

you started bouncing on him, hands on his chest to keep balance. heeseung clenched his teeth at the feeling of your tight cunt around his length. he started to buck upwards himself, searching for further pleasure.

his room began feeling hotter from the heat of both your bodies. you held onto his shoulders for support. "shit—" heeseung cut himself off with a gasp.

you swallowed a lump in your throat, thighs now aching. your movements slowed, "my legs hurt, seungie," you whined at the pain. heeseung pouted, making eye contact with you, "aw, is my pretty girl tired?" he questioned. you nodded and he continued, "let me do the work for you, then."

without letting go and sliding out of you, he flipped you over. you laid on your back now as he hovered above you, splitting your legs open.

he thrusted in and out of you in a slow pace at first, "feels better, baby?" he cocked an eyebrow. "so much better," you moaned, and heeseung took that as a sign that he could go faster.

he started to move quicker, making you whimper uncontrollably. "seungie— so big!" you said, making him smirk at the boost of confidence.

"i know, baby. i can see my cock right here," he placed a hand on your stomach. you looked down to see the outline of his cock right under your belly button, which made you dizzy.

he continued to pound himself into you, the angle resulting in him being deeper than before. you nearly shouted as his tip hit your crevix. you pulled him down by the back of his neck, and pressed a kiss against his lips.

he kissed you back, sliding his tongue inside your mouth with ease. this time, the kiss was filthier. the two of you let go, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

"ngh— faster, please," you moaned out, making heeseung raise an eyebrow. "you sure, baby?" he questioned in concern. "please," you whined desperately, glancing up at him with the most pleading eyes he's ever seen.

"fuck, you're gonna be the death of me."

he propped himself up and pulled you closer by your thighs. he held them open and started to drive himself into you relentlessly. you bit your lip to compress your sounds, but they ended up falling out anyway. "you make the prettiest sounds ever, baby," he whispered.

"heeseung—" you gasped, jerking under him. "feels too good!"

"yeah? such a good girl taking my big cock," he said. his head was thrown back and his abs tensed every time he pushed into you. he looked tousled, yet so attractive.

heeseung scrunched his eyebrows as he let out a groan, "'m close, pretty. you there with me?" he said, out of breath. you couldn't form words, "mhm," you mumbled.

the room was hot, the sounds of your skin slapping onto his covering it. "gonna cum, seungie—!" you ragged, fingers grasping onto the sheets beside you for dear life.

"shit, cum for me, pretty. cum all over my cock," his dirty words sent you over the edge. you arched your back and let out a loud moan as you came. heeseung continued sliding in and out of you, reaching his own orgasm.

"mm... fuck, i'm gonna cum— can i cum inside you, pretty? shit! pleasepleaseplease," he started whimpering, and you decided to play with him.

"you wanna shoot your load in me, seungie?" your voice was seductive, practically asking him for it. he nodded quickly as his legs started to shake, "yeah, fuck— wanna fill you up."

you didn't answer, and it only made him less patient. "shit—" he took a long breath, "ngh! please, baby, pleaaaaseee!" he bit his bottom lip.

"go ahead, baby," you allowed him.

when he felt you clench around his shaft, he lost it. he groaned, "thankyouthankyouthankyou— yn, fuuckkk!" as he shot his load inside you with one last thrust. you sighed when you felt his cock twitch and released its liquid, filling your insides. both your chests were heaving after the release.

he limped, let go of your thighs, and landed on top of you. your pulled him in and hugged him. "thank you, seungie," you said. he gave a nod and circled his arms around your waist, returning the hug.

after composing himself, heeseung propped himself up on his hands, body hovering yours. you looked at your body and whined, "so sticky."

he blinked, "oh— let me clean you up, pretty." he stood and walked over to a cabinet, grabbing a towel. he cleaned your body from sweat, wiped your cunt, and landed a kiss on your cheek. he put on his clothes and grabbed extra for you to use, putting them on you.

you'd never felt so much care from a man.

afterwards, he laid beside you, engulfing you in a hug. you were tucked against him, your head resting on his chest, his arm curved securely around your waist. his heartbeat was steady beneath your ear.

for a while, neither of you said anything.

his thumb traced absent, lazy circles along your arm. his breathing gradually evened out, deep and steady, and you matched it without realizing.

"hey," he murmured eventually, voice softer than you'd ever heard it. you shifted just enough to look up at him. his eyes were half-lidded, watching you like he was making sure you were real.

"are you okay?" he asked.

you nodded, the smallest smile tugging at your lips. "yeah, i am. are you?"

he let out a short breath that sounded like a laugh, but wasn't quite one. "yeah, just... didn't expect tonight to end like this," he said. you hummed, nestling closer to him, "me neither."

his arm tightened around you a little, protective without trying. "not in a bad way, though," he added quickly. "just thought i'd spend another night messing with you."

that made your chest ache.

you traced a slow line along his collarboone, not seductive, but thoughtful. "well, you weren't very good at pretending," you joked. he smiled at that, eyes dropping to your face, "yeah, neither were you."

another quiet stretch passed. he shifted slightly, propping himself up just enough to look at you properly. his expression changed.

"yn," the way he said your name made your breath get caught in your throat. "can i say something?" and you nodded, signalling him to go ahead.

he swallowed, thumb stilling on your arm like he was gathering courage. "i've liked you since the first time you walked into this house." he let out a quiet breath, "and yeah, i flirted, and teased, and pushed. but it wasn't just because it was fun."

your heart started pounding again, slower but deeper.

"i kept thinking i'd get over it," he continued. "that it'd pass. that you were just jena's best friend. off limits, like she said," his jaw tightened brifely, then softened. "but every time you came over, it got worse. the way you looked at me, the way you started teasing back. i couldn't stop thinking about you."

you felt heat behind your eyes, unexpected and overwhelming.

he brushed his forehead against yours. "i don't know what this would turn into. but i know i don't want to pretend anymore. i like you. a lot," he admitted quietly.

you lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes, your hand resting over his chest where his heart beat steady and sure.

"i've liked you too," you said softly. "i just didn't think you'd feel the same."

his smile was small but genuine, relief washing over his face like something finally unclenched. "yeah?"

you nodded lightly, "yeah."

he then pulled you back into him, tighter this time, like he was afraid you might slip away if he didn't hold on. you fit against him easily, naturally, like the teasing and tension had been leading here all along.

"guess we're in trouble," he mumbled into your hair.

you chuckled, closing your eyes. "maybe."

that night, you and heeseung fell asleep without meaning to.

sometime after the room went quiet and the adrenaline finally drained from your body, your eyes started feeling heavy. he murmured something half-asleep that you couldn't quite catch, and pressed a lazy kiss into your hair before drifting off too.

by the time the morning crept in through the curtains, the two of you were tangled together.

you smiled before you could stop yourself.

and then, the door creaked open.

"oh."

you froze. your eyes turned just in time to see jena standing in the doorway, still half-asleep, hair a mess, wearing one of her oversized hoodied. her gaze dropped from your face, to the arm around you, and to the very obvious way you were curled into her brother.

your body went cold. "jena—" you whispered, scrambling slightly, trying to sit up.

heeseung didn't let go. if anything, his arm tightened around your waist, anchoring you against him. he lifted his head lazily from the pillow, blinking once before looking at his sister.

"morning," he mumbled calmly.

you stared at him like he lost his mind. jena, on the other hand, corssed her arms and sighed, completely unimpressed. "i knew it, you two couldn't behave for one more night," she said flatly.

your face burned, "it's not—"

heeseung shifted beside you, chin resting on your shoulder now, voice low and reassuring. "relax, pretty. she's not surprised."

jena shot him a look, "don't act smug. i warned you."

then, her gaze softened slightly as it moved back to you. "i... wanted to see if you're okay," she gave a little smile. you nodded, "yeah. i um— i didn't expect—"

"me neither," she cut in, then huffed. "but honestly? i saw this coming from a mile away."

she stepped into the room, "just don't let him mess around with you, okay? he's insufferable."

before you could respond, heeseung spoke up, tone firm but calm. "i'm not playing, jen," he confessed. that got her attention. jena looked at him properly now, eyebrows lifting, "oh?"

he tightened his hold on you slightly, thumb brushing slow, grounding circled into your side. "i like yn. genuinely."

there was a beat of silence.

then, jena rolled her eyes, "gross." she turned toward the door, "whatever, i'm gonna go make coffee and pretend i didn't see any of this. don't be loud," and the door closed behind her.

you let out the breath you'd been holding, collapsing back against him. "i thought i was gonna pass out," you sighed. he laughed softly, the sound vibrating against your back, "you did great."

you turned in his arms to face him, eyes still wide. "you were way too calm about that," you rolled your eyes. he shrugged, smiling you in that soft, unguarded way he only used now. "why wouldn't i be?"

he brushed his thumb along you cheek. "can i ask you someting?" he murmured. "mhm," you hummed.

"can i do this properly now?" he asked. "like— actually call you mine? take you on dates and stuff, not playing around at my house."

your heart swelled, warmth blooming in your chest.

"yeah," you answered. "i want that."

his smile was immediate — bright and relieved. he leaned in and kissed you slowly, tender and unhurried, like you had all the time in the world. it wasn't heated or rushed. it was lips fitting together easily, a promise that anything else.

"i heard that!" jena shouted from the living room.

you both let go and burst into laughter, forehead dropping against his as he groaned dramatically. "she's never going to let us live this down," you said. he kissed your cheek, smile still wider than ever.

"worth it."

© 2025 wonarchy. all rights deserved.

— likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated!!

[jaylaxies]

MOVE THROUGH ME

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, porn with plot, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cunnilingus, heavy makeout sessions, fingering, shower sex, manhandling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, mentions of drinking/alcohol, usage of nicknames, mentions of jake, mentions of food, lmk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT: 19.7k words.

SYNOPSIS: You weren’t supposed to take this trip alone. However, after freeing yourself from the shackles of a failed relationship, you decided you deserve a break from the real world—never imagining the man you’d run into there would shatter your calm, derail your plans, and walk off with your hotel keycard as if it belonged to him, all while claiming that he hates tourists.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni.

A/N: hihi loves <3 im back with another long fic gawd, it was so fun to write, ily @prkhaven for helping me w spanish and ily @wonmuse for encouraging me to write <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

SCENE ONE. A change of scenery. 

The sun setting into the horizon was all you could observe from your cramped up window seat. 

“Ladies and gentleman, we have begun our descent into Costa Brava. Please be certain your seat back is straight up and your seat belt is fastened. The local time is two p.m.”

You felt a tinge of excitement inside of you as the announcement went on. For the first time in months—years, you felt like you were moving forward, quite literally. Your phone was still on airplane mode, but the last text from your ex still burned in your mind. 

With a long sigh, you pressed your head on the cool surface of the window, watching the blue sea shimmer below, your eyes closing as you recall the events of the past few days. 

A montage, little fleeting moments of your friends warning you, of you trying your best to salvage your relationship, of your now ex boyfriend betraying you, of you running out crying. 

You’d promised yourself this trip would be a reset. No more crying over texts you shouldn’t have read, but you’re glad you did. No more pacing your room, asking what you did wrong with no more tears left to cry. This trip wasn’t meant to heal you—it was meant to remind you that life is much more than a failed relationship. 

Still, as the wheels touched the runway with a jolt, your heart fluttered with anticipation. The weight of what you’d left behind mixed with the faint excitement of what might come next, the thought enough made your lips curl up. 

Needless to say, you were completely distracted from your own thoughts as you somehow managed to clear the customs and acquire your luggage from the baggage area seamlessly, looking around to find a myriad of attractive people swarming the place as it was the vacation time. 

Getting a taxi wasn’t hard either, you had done your fair share of research, seeing how this was meant to be a couples trip, which sadly, or rather, thankfully, wasn’t the case anymore. 

You watched the coastline unfurl outside the taxi window like something pulled out of a daydream. Terracotta rooftops, and the architecture you’d only ever seen on your Pinterest before, and you were here now, in flesh. 

Just—not in the way you had planned.

The taxi curved down a narrow hill, tires crunching over the gravel, and the town came into w, the glittering sea on one side, cafés cluttered with pastel chairs on the other. People laughed freely, missing the exact heaviness you’d been drowning in for months now. You tried to imagine yourself fitting into that sound, you wished you’d be able to do it. 

It wasn’t your fault, that was the only thing that kept you going, your mood uplifting the second you reached your hotel, checking in with the staff being absolute sweethearts towards you. It was a big room, big enough for two. After freshening up, you checked your phone to inform your frantic friends that you were indeed alive. 

Y/N ARE YOU ALIVE?

yunjin 💗: did u land yet??  kazu: answer before we call the embassy ffs  isa: SEND US A SELFIE RN.  you: guys im alive and well thanks 🫡 yunjin: OH FINALLY isa: make sure you hook up w hot men  kazu: ISA?? TOO EARLY  you: nah she’s right you: im here to have fun 😋

You laughed, taking in a deep breath and nodding to yourself. 

You weren’t gonna let yourself crumble and cry in such a beautiful place, not when you were finally free from the shackles of fake love. 

SCENE TWO. It’s just water, you’ll live. 

It felt like a whole different world as you wandered around the streets with no direction in your mind whatsoever, simply breezing through wherever the crowd took you. There was a genuine smile on your face, something you were experiencing after the longest time, breathing in the view, the terracotta walls, and balconies adorned with flowers. 

You stopped to purchase a cold bottle of water from the tiny convenience store nearby with postcards hanging from the strings and a small cat napping on the counter. 

Just as you uncapped the bottle, stepping outside yet again, you collided hard on something, or rather, someone. 

The impact was hard enough for you to lose your balance, which resulted in your bottle falling right on him, soaking the material of his T-shirt, with a few drops landing on your chest as he raised his arm, perhaps on impulse, to grab your waist in a swift move. 

For a second, you were pressed up against this stranger, your eyes moving up to find his warm brown ones staring down at you with shock, jaw clenched as sweat cascaded down his chiseled nose, falling right on your clavicle. 

It was hard not to stare at the man, breathing hard as he had been running, hair wavy and messy in a way that looked straight out of a photoshoot, a light tan gracing his honey like skin. Both of you stayed that way for a moment, as if in a K-drama, before awareness flickered through his expression. 

The very next second, he loosened his grip on you so abruptly, it had you stumbling, and finally, falling down on your ass as he muttered something under his breath, running his slender fingers through his curls, allowing more sweat to fall down on the pavement. 

His white T-shirt now clung to his chest, being fully soaked, revealing everything—from his shoulders to his pecs, yet he was focused on the patch that covered his abdomen, fuming as if he got soaked with paint instead of, well, just water. 

“What the fuck?” You screeched up at him without thinking twice, making his eyebrow shoot up with a look screaming incredulous. 

“Yeah, what the fuck was that?” He asked, voice smoother than you expected, yet laced with every bit of annoyance and anger he could muster. 

“Me? You ran into me!”  You retorted, grabbing your bag and getting up yet again, wincing at how weird the situation was.

“This, you see, is a pedestrian street, not a place to launch yourself out of a shop, mierda (shit),” he scoffed, accent evident in his voice, muttering the last word to himself. 

“Woah, stop right there. I walked out normally—you were running as if a bull was chasing you.”

“Hah,” he said, letting out a humorous laugh, looking at you yet again, “bulls see where they go, they don’t just run into anyone,” he lets out, making his point. 

You joined his humour, “that’s amazing! Maybe learn a thing or two from them then, yeah?” 

He stared at you, eyes narrowing as if he couldn’t believe you were still talking back. He never really liked tourists, but you? You somehow made the whole situation worse just by this one lovely interaction. 

“This is unbelievable,” he muttered, switching back to Spanish to say something like por dios, which you were sure, meant nothing good. 

“Yeah, you are,” you said, stepping up, all your frustration coming out, especially now. 

He scoffed, looking you up and down, as if to judge you, pure annoyance on his face as he couldn’t understand why you weren’t backing down, why you wished to have the final word, it wasn’t something he was used to. 

His eyes flicked to your face, lingering to take in your clenched jaw, glossed—parted lips, water droplets still scattered across your clavicle. He gulped, looking away without meaning to, and you only gave him an unimpressed look. 

“Try not to spill drinks on others, some of us won’t be as nice.”

“Oh—you’re the rudest person I’ve ever met, let’s see who tops that—and that’s just water, you’ll live,” you nodded to mock him, rolling your eyes right after, walking away. 

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek before he laughed, shaking his head to himself, turning around to look at your figure walking away, “tourists,” he muttered under his breath, shaking the water off of his tee before running away. 

While you ran into an alleyway, closing your eyes as your cheeks heated up, with anger or from randomly procuring a hot nemesis on your first day in Costa Brava, “oh god,” you muttered, throwing the now empty bottle into a trash can and walking away. 

Both of you hoping that you don’t run into each other again. 

SCENE THREE. Thrice in a day?

After spending the whole day storming through the coast line of Costa Brava like the main character throwing a dramatic rage fit (which was very apt for you), you finally reach your hotel room again, mind elsewhere, cussing out someone for their audacity. 

Your phone buzzed as you changed, deciding that you needed a drink or two to get through everything that had happened. Your three friends were anxiously waiting for updates, and so with a sigh, you plopped down on the bed, answering your phone. 

“Y/N!” 

“Finally! Oh god, where have you been?”

“Did you find someone hot yet?” 

You chuckled at the last one, “well, yes, a lot of hot people roam around here, shirtless at that.”

Others squealed, Isa only getting more curious, “so, did you talk to anyone?”

Your mind drifted back to the man who bumped into you earlier, “I did, and before you say anything—he wasn’t hot,” you lied smoothly, proceeding to tell them what happened, expecting them to be mad at the dude, but rather, they chose to fangirl over the moment, calling it your enemies to lovers arc. 

“Can we be serious for one second, please?” You sighed, “It’s not like I’m gonna run into him ever again,” you said. 

“You never know,” Kazuha sang out. 

“I don’t wanna know,” you groaned, throwing your arm over your eyes, “I have no idea why this is pissing me off so bad, I want him erased from my memory.”

Yunjin giggled, “girl you remember the way he looks and you’ve been thinking about him non- stop, that’s saying a lot.”

“That’s saying nothing,” you retorted. 

“It says that he was hot,” said Kazhua. 

“Was he? Be for real right now,” askedIsa. 

You opened your mouth, hesitating to speak for a second for absolutely no reason, which was a fatal mistake as they took your silence as a yes for an answer. 

Before they could scream any further, you ended the call, throwing your phone on the side. Shaking your head, you grabbed your phone again, googling some bars around the hotel area, ignoring the spamming texts from your friends—you really needed a drink now. 

Most seemed like tourist spots with neon lights and overpriced drinks, however, one did stand out to you, and it was merely six minutes away from your hotel. You didn’t bother thinking twice about it, soon changing into something that didn’t have specks of dust covering the fabric, your skin still warm from the day, and a faint sheen of gloss on your lips made you look slightly more put-together than you felt.

The moment you stepped outside, the evening air wrapped around you like a warm blanket, the slight breeze felt even better, the sky had deepened into a watercolor gradient of stunning blues, the kind of colour that makes you wanna stop and stare. 

Couples strolled along the sidewalk, hands linked—a sight that made your heart hurt, but you also felt free from the shackles of a relationship that wasn’t working out, maybe you had left him behind long ago, maybe you were hoping things would change, and it did hurt, but you weren’t going to hold on to something that won’t even be in your future. 

You chuckled to yourself as locals laughed outside cafés, swirling wine in half-filled glasses, distracting yourself. Even the stray cats seemed to have somewhere important to be.

Meanwhile, you reached La Mariposa, the bar you were looking for. The name alone felt right, it was beautiful with a wooden sign hung above the entrance, some paintings hung around it. 

It wasn’t too loud as you walked in, warmth engulfing you, along with the essence of citrus and alcohol, as you looked around to find the cozy, dim lit place, which was bigger than most bars you had visited. 

Shelves behind the counter shimmered with jewel-toned bottles, arranged like stained glasses, deep crimson liquors catching the low light, refracting tiny glints across the room. A few locals leaned on the bar, sipping from short glasses, murmuring in Catalan and Spanish, way beyond your understanding of the languages. A couple sat tucked into a booth with their heads bent close, laughing quietly.

You exhaled, shoulders dropping for the first time all day. If cities had hearts, this place felt like Costa Brava’s. You drifted toward the counter, fingertips brushing the smooth wood of a stool before you settled into it. The leather was warm from the last occupant. Your pulse slowed, unwinding from the afternoon’s debacle. You deserved a drink. You deserved ten drinks actually. 

A voice somewhere behind the bar called out to someone, deep and smooth, and somehow, oddly familiar.

You frowned, blinking and shaking your head, because there’s no way the universe would do this to you, not today at least. Not twice in one day.

You leaned forward, peering over the counter as a figure moved in the dim lighting. Broad shoulders came into view first, then a familiar silhouette, which you couldn’t forget despite coming across it only once. He was tall, lean, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, wavy hair messed up, and a thin chain dangling at the base of his throat, which made you stare at his Adam’s apple for a solid second. 

He stepped closer, turning toward you with a towel slung over one shoulder, and you wondered if it was a good time to just leave the place, granted you could go elsewhere for your own sake of sanity. 

Just as you moved a smidge, his warm brown eyes landed on you, the smile on his face vanished right that second, the towel slipping off of his shoulder. The look on his face could be described as one of pure, utter disbelief, a humorous scoff leaving his lips. 

“De ninguna manera (no way),” he muttered, half amused, half angry.

You shook your head, “trust me, I’m equally as horrified.” 

You peeked at the name tag on his button up, Heeseung. 

“Out of every bar in this coastline,” he trailed off.

“It’s not like I planned it! Why are you everywhere, huh?” 

“This is my bar. You walked into my place of work, and now you’re asking me why I’m here?” He replied, spreading his arms, a brow raised. 

“You run this place?” You almost screeched out, eyes widened. 

He smirked, pressing his palms flat on the counter, “I own this place.”

“Oh,” you let out before you could stop yourself.

His smirk deepened just a little, pride flickering across his face like he enjoyed that tiny reaction more than he should’ve.

“Yeah,” he said, tapping the counter lightly with his knuckles, “oh.”

You straightened, narrowing your eyes at him, “well, congratulations, I guess. On owning this.”

“This,” he echoed, glancing around the room with a lazy sweep of his gaze, “was peaceful before you walked in.”

You sighed again, grabbing your handbag as he stared at you with the kind of intensity you could feel on your skin, making your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. 

He straightened right after, grabbing a clean glass, movements sharp and very well practiced. 

“Well, since you’re already here,” he said, pulling bottles off the shelf with confident flicks of his wrist, “what do you want?”

“Yeah, no. I wanna leave,” you said.

He ignored that entirely, which was surprising for him too, “great. I’ll make you something.”

“I didn’t order—”

“You look like you need something strong,” he interrupted, pouring clear alcohol over ice, “and something sweet to keep you from arguing with me all night.”

“I am not arguing—”

He didn’t even look at you, “you are arguing.”

“I’m simply clarifying.”

“That’s tourist lingo for arguing.”

You scoffed, glaring at him, “do you ever stop talking?”

He finally looked up, locking eyes with you across the counter, “I do,” he murmured, “when people stop spilling things on me.”

You sighed, however, not being able to look away, which wasn’t the best as he looked annoyingly good. His chain caught the golden bar light, shining, his rolled sleeves exposed lean arms.

And the faint glisten on his collarbones was definitely from the heat—though it made it very hard to focus on the conversation, which had thankfully stopped now. 

He shook the drink, each motion effortless, too confident for someone so irritating. When he finally poured the drink and slid the glass toward you, his fingers brushed the wood with a precision that nearly felt, well, seductive.

“There,” he said softly, “a Mariposa Garden. Personalized.”

“You personalized a drink for me?” you asked, suspicious.

He tilted his head, eyes dropping to your mouth for a split second, “I’m telling you, I read people.”

You lifted the glass to your lips, glancing his way for a moment. 

He leaned in slightly, “be careful, tourist, try not to spill that, too.”

You rolled your eyes before taking in a sip—the sip that had you regretting your whole life, coughing as your throat burned with the abomination of the drink you just had. 

“W—What the f—fuck is this?” You choked, grabbing the counter as if it was gonna save you.

Heeseung’s expression didn’t change much, but his eyes—oh his eyes were full of delight. 

“Hm, didn’t like it, señorita?” He asked, pretending to be innocent. 

“I swear even bleach would taste better,” you sputtered. 

Heeseung clicked his tongue, “exageración.”

“No,” you croaked, wiping your tongue with a napkin, “you did that on purpose.”

His lips twitched—finally letting the smugness see through, “oh come on, it wasn’t that bad. You needed something strong, I just provided you with that,” he shrugged. 

You shook your head, “you’re insane,” you whispered. 

From the corner of your eye, another voice joined the conversation. 

“Whoa. You always treat customers this sweetly, Hee?” A tall guy with beach tousled hair and a glint in his eye slid into the seat beside you, he looked like a prince—prince Eric to be exact. Like your childhood crush had come alive. His black shirt was open at the collar, gold chain peeking out, and his cologne smelled clean, yet expensive. “Because if so, I need to visit more often.” He continued, flashing you his perfect smile. 

“Oh no,” Heeseung muttered.

“Hola,” the new guy said, turning to you again, “I’m Jake.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to talk to him, granted he was Heeseung’s friend, but he did seem nice, “uh, hi?”

He extended a hand with an exaggerated flair, “enchantadora, and you are?”

“Not in the mood right now actually,” you muttered, not meaning to be rude, but Heeseung had ruined it already.

You took his hand anyway, because you were raised well, at least you thought so.

Jake didn’t seem fazed by any means, “that’s a gorgeous name.”

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling now, telling him your name, and he repeated it right after you. He had a slight Australian accent in his tone. 

“Thank you,” you let yourself smile, his own being too contagious. 

Jake leaned in as Heeseung rolled his eyes, “so, how long have you been in the town?”

“Just got here today,” you replied. 

“Perfecto, I’m lucky I caught you here before you found some other tour guide.”

“Damn, Jake, are you offering?” You leaned in further, much to Heeseung’s dismay. 

He pressed a hand to his chest, as if offended, “offering? Mi amor, I’m begging. I’ve lived here for three years. I know every beach worth swimming, every café worth falling in love in—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Heeseung muttered from behind the counter, slamming a shaker down a little too hard.

You and Jake both turned to him with a bored expression. 

“Problem?” Jake asked, voice still light, but his brows raised.

“Estás actuando como un golden retriever en celo (you’re acting like a golden retriever in heat),” Heeseung said under his breath.

Jake only grinned, “Por qué ye preocupas tanto? Creí que no veías turistas románticamente (why are you so bothered? I thought you didn’t see tourists romantically).”

“I’m literally still here,” you interrupted, raising a hand between them.

“I’d rather you be elsewhere.” Heeseung said, harsher than intended and you could see just how irritated he was with this whole situation. 

You let out a condescending laugh, “yeah, I think I’d rather not be around an asshole too.”

You slammed a few bills on the wooden table, not noticing the spare room card getting mixed with the cash as you grabbed your bag and proceeded to leave. 

“Wait!” Jake ran after you, giving you his number as Heeseung tapped the wood, watching you give him yet another smile as you saved his number, “call me whenever you need me, or miss me, mi amor.”

With that, you were gone. 

Heeseung let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding the second the door shut behind you. Jake strolled back to the bar with a triumphant grin, spinning his phone between his fingers, clicking his tongue.

“She likes me,” he said simply, sliding back onto the stool you’d left warm. “She totally smiled when I gave her my number. You saw that, right? But that was rude, Hee, why’d you say that?”

Heeseung didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up the bills you’d slammed down—his fingers stilling when he noticed the familiar blue edge of a hotel key card nestled among the cash. He knew the place, being a few minutes away from his bar. He pulled it out slowly, shaking his head. 

Jake leaned in, clocking the motion immediately. “Is that her room key?”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched, “looks like it.”

Jake reached for it with a smirk, “I’ll take it back to her. She likes me, remember?”

Heeseung’s grip tightened, “yeah, no.”

Jake stared at him, “what? Come on, she already thinks you’re a dick. Let me be the knight in shining—”

“I said no,” Heeseung muttered, shoving the key card into his back pocket and giving Jake a look that ended the conversation, but not for him.

Jake raised both hands in surrender, eyes narrowing playfully, “you are acting weird, man.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes didn’t bother replying, getting back to his work as the crowd grew bigger. Only after twenty minutes had passed, he finally handed the work to the part timer who came for his night shift and untied his apron, tossing it onto the counter.

“Watch the bar.” He told Jake.

He chuckled, grabbing a glass to polish as he called after him, “Tell her I say hi. And that she looked very cute when she smiled at me.”

Heeseung didn’t answer—just pushed open the door and disappeared into the night, the key card, wondering how he got caught up in this mess. He could have easily let Jake deliver it back to you, but somehow, he didn’t think it was over. 

The way you left his bar, calling him an asshole, the conversation should have been over, he didn’t wish to talk to you anymore, however, deep inside him, he knew it wasn’t over—he wanted to argue more. 

Something about you just ticked him off.

Meanwhile, upstairs in your hotel room, which you’d gotten into using the spare key you had, you were scrolling through Jake’s contact in your phone, lips pursed as you stared at the little heart emoji he’d put beside his name.

Jake 🌊❤️

“Ridiculous, but damn he was cute,” you muttered, tossing your phone on the bed. 

You had washed up, changing into your comfy shorts, all ready to call it a night, especially with the insane day you’ve had. So, when someone knocked on your door, you wondered what even was left. 

Could it be room service? But you hadn’t ordered anything. Cleaning service? They don’t come at such hour. You simply groaned, getting up and walking towards the door to check if someone had accidentally mistaken your room for someone else’s, only to be shocked seeing the man in front of you, yet again. 

“You—” 

There stood Heeseung, leaning against the door frame, holding something between two fingers, something that looked a lot like—your key card? 

“Yeah, no way. Are you stalking me now? How did you even get that?” 

He didn’t even react as if he knew you’d accuse him, “you left this at my bar.”

“And you somehow felt kind enough to bring it back to me all the way to my room?”

He scoffed, raising his brow, “you think I’d waste my night following you around? You of all people?” 

“Exactly, you could have just given it to Jake, who, might I just add—would have been more happy to play my knight in shining armour.”

“I don’t trust him enough to come back, besides I need him to bartend the place right now.”

“What about you then? You’re the owner.” You raised your brow, reaching out to grab the card from him. 

He only moved back, raising his hand so you couldn’t reach the card, then he proceeded to do even worse by putting the card in the back pocket of his pants. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I don’t think you deserve to get it back, señorita,”

You sighed, head hurting now, “you really came here just to argue with me, huh?” 

“Figured you’d be happy, maybe thank me, but I see you’re just a brat.” He looked at your lips, voice deeper. 

Your breath hitched, wondering how you got yourself into this situation, even more so when he stood so close to you despite the fact that he made it clear that he hated you. Maybe he hated you to the point he wished for you to leave the city, but then why was he staring at you like that? Your legs felt weaker, you were tired and so you shook your head.

“You’re not getting anything. Y’know what? Just take the card with you and leave, okay?”

His mouth tipped, not quite a smile, “gladly.”

You reached for his pocket on instinct—which was a bad move. He caught your wrist, palm warm, and the tiny shock of contact stalled you both. For a beat, you just looked at each other. His lashes lowered, he tugged you the smallest bit closer, breath grazing your cheek, making your heart beat out of your chest.

No, there was no way this man was holding you close right now, your life wasn’t supposed to be this dramatic. This trip was supposed to help you relax, not spike your blood pressure. 

“Let go, Heeseung,” you said his name out for the first time.

That somehow made it worse, he gulped mindlessly, as your other palm found his chest to push him back, and you spoke out his name yet again, finally bringing him back to reality, he let go of your wrist, stepping back into the hallway. 

You didn’t question anything, more focused on watching the man messing up his hair and walking away with your spare key. 

“Oh my god,” you muttered to yourself, slamming the door shut hard enough for Heeseung to hear as you proceeded to lock it, rushing back to your bed, grabbing the nearest pillow to scream into it, then you texted your friends. 

Meanwhile, Jake stared at Heeseung with a smirk, who looked dazed while doing his job—how he got the drinks right even while being this distracted was beyond Jake’s understanding. That simply annoyed him more, because Heeseung was never one to be this worked up, especially over someone he met not even a day ago. 

“You’re acting weird, did something happen?” Jake asked, leaning in with interest. 

“Shut up. Nothing happened. What would even happen, huh?” 

“Woah, woah—no need to get all worked up over this,” he replied, “so something did happen. Don’t worry bro, I’ll make it work.”

Heeseung groaned, “there’s nothing to make work here.”

Jake only clicked his tongue, looking at Heeseung yet again.

“Just you wait, it’s bound to happen.”

SCENE FOUR. I’m not that nice, but I’ll play along. 

Jake 🌊❤️: need a tour guide for the day, mi amor? 

The notification flashed just as you were having a full on run down of your day with the girls on facetime, who had an incredulous look on their faces, especially when you mentioned the last bit of your past night as you applied makeup, getting ready for the day. 

“You can’t be serious, he actually took away the card?” 

“After pinning you to the wall?” 

Yunjin smirked, “did he look hot doing it? Did it feel good?”

You scrunched your nose, “of course not, and wait—do you even realize how wrong your question is?”

“You’re just avoiding the answer,” Isa sang. 

“Am not!” 

“You so are,” Kazhua added. 

“This is not a k-drama, guys,” you rolled your eyes, looking at the incoming texts. 

Jake 🌊❤️: be ready in 30, meet me at the lobby, carry spare clothes in case you get wet you: define wet Jake 🌊❤️: use any definition you like baby ;)

“Alright girls, I’m gonna go, I’ll keep you updated.”

You leaned against the wall, sighing before going to the balcony, staring at the pretty beach view, families enjoying their time together, the sky was clear, the very shade of blue you adored, “day two here and I’m already getting involved with his friend,” you laughed in disbelief. 

But then again, you had nothing planned for you, no itinerary by any means as you were going to visit wherever your now ex wanted to. It’s kinda pathetic how you were willing to accommodate every single wish of his while keeping your own interests aside. 

So, you managed to shove your towel and a change of clothes into your linen tote, having worn your swimwear underneath your sundress already, adding sunscreen and your lippies alongside your wallet. 

You were glowing as you looked into the mirror, and you swore that getting ready for yourself gave you the best outcomes. With your bag over your shoulder, you gave yourself one final look before heading down to the lobby. 

Jake was already waiting in the lobby, legs crossed casually on one of the cream-coloured sofas, sunglasses perched on his head and phone in hand, hair messy, and biting his plump bottom lip. He looked up the second you stepped out, the grin forming so easily it made you squint at him.

“You clean up nice, turística.” He stood up with a smooth stretch, giving you a once over that somehow felt more amused than lustful, his shirt rising up as he did so, “you ready for a little fun?”

“Just a little?” You asked, raising your brow. 

“Just enough for you to think about extending your little stay,” he smirked. 

You rolled your eyes, taking his arm that he ever so happily extended, walking out and towards the car. Turning around the corner, you came across a beautiful, sleek dark convertible, definitely expecting it to not have any passengers inside, or any driver. But to your absolute dismay, there was a sun kissed man sitting right on the driver’s seat with sunglasses perched on his head. 

He had his elbow propped up the side of the door, eyes on you—Heeseung. 

You turned to give Jake a look of betrayal, “you didn’t mention that I’d be third wheeling here.”

“Woah,” he raised his hands in surrender, “it’s his car, bebé, had to drag him along.”

You groaned, sighing right after, planning on getting into the backseat, but Jake was quick, opening the passenger door, “after you.”

“Wait—me? There?” You looked at him, incredulous. 

He leaned in, “you’re not scared of him, are you, princesa?” 

You shook your head slowly, annoyed that he knew exactly what to say to get you there, and so you did, without once looking at Heeseung, who stared your way shamelessly, your keycard still with him. Jake got in as well, too excited for anyone’s liking.

“Seatbelt?” Heeseung asked, looking your way.

“You’re not wearing it either,” you retorted, now looking his way, slightly shocked by the level of intensity his stare held. 

“Yeah, but you need it, can’t have you dying,” he replied as you stared at his unbuttoned shirt, his faint abs and v-line was definitely impressive. 

When you didn’t reply for two seconds, he huffed in annoyance, leaning in as you barely even registered his movement until the click of the seatbelt snapped into place. 

The back of his knuckles brushed against the top of your thigh as he adjusted the belt, and his chest hovered close enough to yours that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. Your eyes flicked up instinctively the second his head turned. His pointy nose grazed your cheek, just a hint of his skin on yours yet it was enough to knock the breath out of your lungs.

He didn’t mean to do that by any means, you knew it and so even as his breath hitched, his eyes still lingered just beside your temple, close enough that if you turned, your lips might brush his.

He couldn’t smell anything else but your scent, it was so addictive, so clean, it made him suddenly aware of the way his shirt clung slightly to his chest and how warm the car had gotten.

Jake’s voice broke the silence from the backseat, and you both moved to your assigned corners just as he said, “I mean, if you two are done playing a silent telenovela, the beach does close after sundown and we can’t have the lady not enjoying it.”

“Lo siento (sorry),” Heeseung muttered, focusing on the car now. 

You looked out the window, hiding your face now which was clearly heating up, meanwhile Heeseung was right, the road was rocky and you needed the belt to stay in place. How he stayed in place was a mystery to you. It was a silent ride for most part, besides Jake talking to you and Spanish pop music playing on the speakers. Ever so often, you risked a glance to your left, catching the profile of the driver, especially at his one hand resting lazily on the wheel, the other tapping against his thigh to the beat, the same hand that held you close last night. 

It was annoying actually, how you were hyper aware of him not knowing that he was the same for you, it was even worse how you both just hated each other and now, you had to spend the day together. 

How convenient. 

You reached the beach in twenty minutes, though it definitely felt longer. It wasn’t crowded, just a quiet inlet, the sand golden and warm under the sun, the sea impossibly blue, running straight into jagged rocks that curved around the shore. A few people were scattered across towels, music playing low from someone’s speaker.

Jake let out a content sigh as he stepped out, stretching his arms to the sky, “my favourite,” he said, proudly, “told you I don’t disappoint, didn’t I?”

You slipped out of the passenger seat silently, holding your tote close and squinting at the water. It really was beautiful, and it had you smiling genuinely, one of your favourite shades of blue, you paused and stared. 

“Be careful,” Heeseung said, walking past you, “the tide is unpredictable here.”

You glanced at him, watching as he headed to the shaded area beneath a cluster of trees, laying down the cooler and towels without waiting for help or response, his muscles flexing as he did so. With a sigh, you closed your eyes. You couldn’t slap yourself right now, granted you were in public, but you wanted to—just so you could tell your mind to shut up and stop looking at him. 

“Is he always like this?” you muttered to Jake as he joined you with a shrug.

“Pretty much, but at least he cares, and I forced him to come so, can’t really say much. Just try smiling at him, he might actually admit he’s in love with you.”

“Excuse me?” You pushed Jake away, laughing at the statement, “you’ve gone mad, señor.” You tried to incorporate the word he taught you. 

Jake laughed along, walking closer to the water, “you’d be surprised,” he said, as if he knew something. 

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head. 

“You’ll see,” he just smiled, biting his bottom lip.

Jake gave you a wink before jogging off into the shallows, the sun catching the wet strands of his hair as he dove into the surf all excited. Heeseung, on the other hand, hadn’t moved from his shaded spot. He sat with one knee bent, arm resting over it, staring at the laptop, seemingly working. It was the first time you’d ever seen someone using a laptop on the beach. 

“Damn,” you muttered, finally working on enjoying your day as you peeled your sundress off in one slow tug, feeling the light breeze over your skin. Heeseung didn’t look, not even for a second, and somehow you were glad that he was distracted.

You made your way into the water, the sand soft beneath your feet, the warmth of the sun melting into your shoulders, relaxing you. Jake splashed you immediately, arms wide as he grinned like a devil. 

“This is the life ¿no?”

“Well, It is the life for you,” you laughed, brushing water from your lashes, “not sure about me yet, but I really love it.” You loved the water, you loved beaches, and this one felt different, so calm, at peace. 

He swam closer, “you’ll warm up to it. Or maybe you are already warm,” he teased, eyes flicking toward the shore.

You followed his glance and found Heeseung still seated, still working, but eyes not at the screen anymore, rather, he was staring at you both, or maybe just you. The second your eyes met, he looked away.

Something curled low in your stomach and you weren’t sure what it was, but it left your mind as you continued swimming around and splashing water with Jake, however, when the next wave came and you stumbled slightly, just enough for your hand to shoot out on instinct.

You almost expected Jake to be the one holding you, him being close by, but it was Heeseung instead, your eyes widened as you breathed hard. When did he even move? His hand was around your wrist again, the same one he’d held the night before. His palm wrapped firm, the water slick between your skin, heat radiating from the short distance between your bodies, him being shirtless now. 

“Told you to be careful,” he said, almost angry, somewhat frustrated. 

You blinked a few times, “I was fine, and I can swim.” You said instead of saying a thank you, only because his tone didn’t sit right with you. 

His eyes lingered for a moment too long before he let go with a sigh, he turned without a word, wading farther into the water as if nothing had happened, 

Jake swam by with a grin, he was having the time of his life, “that man I swear, he moves like a ghost.”

You exhaled, trying to steady your breath, the ocean suddenly colder without him near. Meanwhile, Heeseung was silently cursing under his breath. He shouldn’t have come, he should’ve ignored Jake’s pleas to take you both out, and somehow he did. 

You returned to the shallows, arms crossed loosely over your chest, eyes drawn to him in spite of yourself, you named that feeling annoyance. He was good looking, there was no denying that, the sun catching on his skin, carving the sharp angles of his back in shadow. It was maddening, the kind that had you closing your eyes and feeling the water to stay grounded, and it did help, or so you convinced yourself. 

Jake was quick to splash more water at you, which was great because you got distracted, splashing back at him now as he shook his head, trying to get the water out, but he only looked like a puppy doing so, it hit your shoulder, cold and shocking enough to drag a laugh out of you before you could stop it. You turned on him instantly, scooping water with both hands and throwing it back without thinking much. 

Jake whooped, ducking too late, hair plastered to his forehead as he chuckled. That’s basically prince Eric in flesh, he was a pretty boy, you agreed.

“Traitor,” you accused, already splashing again as he kept on ducking. 

He grinned, eyes bright, splashing back with zero restraint, enjoying himself in the moment. Water slapped against your skin and it felt peaceful as it did so. Your swim suit clung to your body, cooling you even further, and you forgot yourself for a few seconds—forgot the week before. Forgot every little thing that bothered your existence for a while. 

Then you aimed at Jake again, who was simply waiting for you to make a move, almost too calculated as he moved around, letting the water go a little farther than you had intended, and landing square against a solid chest. 

The silence that came after that was fast and awkward, like the sea itself had paused to watch the scene that was about to unfold. 

Heeseung didn’t flinch, simply standing there, water cascading down the lines of his torso, dripping from his jaw, darkening the waistband of his already soaked shorts. He turned slowly, eyes lifting to meet yours, and you looked at Jake, who seemed to be the happiest person alive watching the interaction. 

“Uh—that was—” you started, clearly finding the situation hilarious, not thinking your words through. 

Jake then lifted his hands, “it was her, I didn’t do it—that was entirely her.”

You glared at him, giving him the usual look of betrayal before pointing at Jake, “It was him, I aimed at Jake and he ducked.”

“So I noticed,” muttered Heeseung. 

He wiped water from his face with his hand and looked at you again, actually stared at you as if he was measuring the distance.

You crossed your arms, “okay listen, If you’re going to say something about tourists and personal space again—”

But to your surprise, he didn’t even bother saying anything, simply making his way towards where you were standing. One second he was a few steps away, the next he was close enough that the water between you churned. His hand came out, closing around your wrist before you could as much as react. The contact snapped through you, the cool water juxtaposing the warmth of his skin, his grip firm on you. 

You sucked in a breath, eyes wide as you stared at Jake to get some sort of help, to no avail, “what are you—”

Before the sentence could finish, his other arm slid around your waist and he lifted you clean out of the water with ease, the whole situation dramatic enough for Jake’s eyes to widen as he gasped, smiling while he rested his palm on his lips. 

Your feet left the sand, water streaming down your calves, your hands instinctively finding his shoulders for balance. Warmth flared where your body met his, the sudden absence of water making everything feel even worse, or hot, or something you couldn’t even name.

“Hey,” you protested, half laughing at the ridiculousness of the moment, however also fully shocked, “put me down!”

“No,” he said, already moving toward the shore, acting as if he was unbothered, as if his skin wasn’t burning where your bodies met, as if he hated your existence. 

Jake burst out laughing. “I told you,” he called after you both, “he’s a menace.”

You squirmed, more out of principle than actual resistance, still trying to free yourself, “oh come on—this is unnecessary.”

“So is throwing water at me,” Heeseung replied, his tongue poking his cheek, gaze fixed ahead, but his hands didn’t loosen. If anything, they steadied you, thumbs pressing briefly into your sides, both of you going silent for a second as you felt how your body fit against his. 

All that squirming but you didn’t actually pull away, well, until he let go, throwing you into the water with ease, the waves swallowing your yelp as you kicked your way up again, blinking the sting from your lashes, and gasping when you came up.

He was already a few steps back, the water lapping at his hips, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself for your linking. 

You pushed your hair out of your face, “are you fucking insane?”

Jake cackled like a child, clapping now, “Oh my god,” he shouted, “you actually did it!”

“Glad I could entertain,” Heeseung muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear. His mouth twitched, like he was holding back a smirk.

You stood up now, dripping, hair plastered to your neck. Heeseung’s eyes dropped for a second, just a flicker honestly, before lifting again, as nonchalant as ever. But he’d looked, and you were sure of it.

The corner of your lip curled upward, in fake amusement, “that was pathetic,” you said, stepping forward through the water, “seriously, what are you, twelve?”

He just uncrossed his arms, letting them fall to his sides. The muscles in his forearms flexing as he did, veins slightly visible from how tight his skin pulled when wet, “you said you can swim.”

“Oh, I get it,” you went on, toeing the line now, “you’re the type of guy who thinks tossing a girl in the ocean is some kind of—what? Flirting?”

He clicked his tongue, playing along, “well, did it work?”

Your mouth was open in shock now, and yes, you were speechless with the sudden shift in his tone, not expecting that reply by any means. Not being able to answer, you splashed water directly at Heeseung’s face.

His hands flew up too late, and you caught him square on the cheek. His brows shot up, a huff leaving his lips as he wiped his jaw, sending droplets flying. Then—oh god help you—he smiled. An actual fucking smile.

And somehow, it was worse than the glares he threw your way, worse than the arguments because, god, was it beautiful, slightly crooked on one side, faint dimple barely showing, perfect teeth grazing his bottom lip. You stared, way too stunned for half a second, and he made good use of it, surging forward in the water and sending a wave your way with both arms.

You shrieked, turned too late, and the wave hit your back, drenching you all over again. When you turned around, he was already smirking.

“Now that was pathetic, ,” he said, water dripping from his lashes.

“Oh, you’re so dead.”

“Come try, señorita.”

Jake threw his hands up, something he did a lot, “sexual tension is off the charts, I’ll pretend I don’t know you both.”

You charged at Heeseung, but he backed up fast, deeper into the waves where you had to fight the pull. He kept just enough distance to stay out of reach, watching you with that irritatingly calm expression that was annoying you.

“I mean it, you’re so dead.”

“Sure,” he said, voice dry, “waiting for you to kill me.”

“I will.”

“Still waiting.”

He dove under before you could lunge—and you cursed. Water splashed all around, but he disappeared, vanishing under the sunlit surface like a ghost, maybe he was one. 

“Coward!” you yelled.

But then a hand caught your ankle that made you shriek again, you were genuinely startled, stumbling as he popped up right behind you, slick hair and all, grinning now. He grabbed your waist, lifting you again just enough to make you lose balance and fall back against him.

Your back met his chest with a wet slap, the contact so unexpected, it had your heart beating fast, or maybe it was his heart, you couldn’t differentiate anymore.

His arms weren’t tight around you, but they kept you in place without saying anything this time, however, his breath was right by your ear, chest rising against your back, and you closed your eyes, feeling too much in less time. His skin was warm—insanely so, despite the chill of the sea.

“Truce,” he said, letting go of you slowly, fingers caressing your waist as he did so, and by the second you turned around, he was there, already walking toward the shore again. 

Your mouth opened—but no words came out. Jake raised a brow as you joined them, while Heeseung grabbed his shirt off the rocks, not looking at either of you, walking towards his car as you sat down on your towel. Jake plopped beside you, looking highly pleased with himself. “You know what they say about unresolved tension—”

“Shut up, no one says anything,” you cut him off.

“I’m just saying, mi amor,” he grinned, watching Heeseung out of the corner of his eye.

“For people who don’t get along, you sure find new ways to touch each other.”

SCENE FIVE. Dinner or dessert? 

Heeseung was standing by the window, staring out into the morning sky yet not taking the view in, mind drifting back to yesterday, the exact moment he picked you up, how he stared at the water droplets cascading down your face, dripping from your chin right onto his clavicle. 

It was very unlike him to do that, he could feel it too. His life was deprived of adventure, everything was monotonous, a routine he was absolutely content with, and it’s not as if he was frustrated—he was sexually active after all, but none of that gave him the same thrill as simply arguing with you. 

He had his reasons for not liking tourists but he was never rude to them, or snappy. You just started on the wrong foot and it still doesn’t sit right with him, especially with how Jake is hellbent on taking you out yet again. Yesterday ended pretty quickly once you were done at the beach, however you did have dinner together, Heeseung was silent the entire time as you and Jake took up the space, talking about the most random things in the world, enough that he now knows the random things you like in life. 

Jake groaned from the couch, “¿por qué estás despierto (why are you awake)?” 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied simply. 

Jake only smirked, he didn’t even have to ask for the reason, it was very clear on Heeseung’s face. The morning was peaceful, but Heeseung’s mind? Not so much. He continued to drink his coffee as Jake drifted back to sleep. 

Right as he was passing by to go back to the kitchen, he found Jake’s phone flashing with your name on it, he stopped without meaning to. 

You: sounds good! lmk when you’re on your way, and pleaseee don’t bring him today 

He scoffed, jaw clenching before he picked up the phone, placing the coffee mug on the counter. It was stupid of him, he was well aware of that, maybe it was the lack of sleep that caused him to be more irritated than usual, and with that, he unlocked Jake’s phone, knowing the pin already. 

Instead of clicking on your notifs, he somehow managed to open the photos simply because he was aware Jake captured a few yesterday, pretty shades of blue covering the screen now, and you being in the centre of it all. 

It was the picture where you were sitting, smiling at something Jake had said as he managed to capture the moment, but that genuine emotion in your smile had him staring.

“Dios mío (oh my god).”

Heeseung locked the phone instantly, putting it back in its place, meanwhile Jake sat up a little, elbow propped up on the couch, too interested for someone who was supposed to be asleep not even seconds ago. 

“You really have it bad if you’re sneaking around my phone to see her,” Jake smirked. 

“I wasn’t, your phone was unlocked,” he replied, and lord he was a terrible liar. 

“I see, it was accidental how you opened the photos, and well—” Jake grabbed his phone now, opening it to find a picture of you smiling, “—stared at her for god knows how long.”

Heeseung didn’t reply, rolling his eyes and moving ahead into the kitchen as Jake went on, “you know I’m taking her out today, right? Too bad you’re busy, I’ll keep her company.”

“bien por ti (good for you),” he muttered. 

Jake sighed, “he’s gonna realize it too late, I swear,” before jumping off the couch, walking towards the washroom, leaving Heeseung muttering to himself too. “She’s so annoying.”

“He’s so annoying,” your voice echoed in your room a few hours later.

Sleep didn’t come easy to you either, you were torn somehow, wanting to leave the city as soon as possible, yet not having it in you to disrupt your peace and leave two days early, especially when you did pay for this vacation from your own pocket. 

Your friends were convinced that Heeseung had a thing for you, and that arguing was his way of flirting with you, just as you had mentioned while giving them a run down of the whole day yesterday. You called them delusional, of course you did, there was nothing else to it, just empty words and his hate for you. 

Jake arrived on time just like yesterday, only, Heeseung didn’t accompany him this time, and he did notice you looking around, but he didn’t mention it, simply smiling at you and pulling you into a warm hug, “te ves bonita (you look pretty),” he said, and you smiled, familiar with the words he had said to you almost a hundred times in the past two days. 

“Oh he’s missing out,” he added, and now you gave him a look, to which he shrugged as if he had just spoken a fact, but you soon got into a conversation about the types of fishes as he walked you to the museum nearby. 

And Jake was good company, you admit that—light on his feet, always knowing when to ask something and when not to, yet constantly teasing you. He talked about his childhood in Australia, the jobs he hated, the ones he’d loved, and how he couldn’t stay at a place for long, he moved to Spain three years back. He asked about your city, and you told him the good bits first, the bad bits second, and he listened carefully. 

“How long are you staying?” he asked, offhand, while you paused before a gallery wall of self portraits in much warmer tones.

“Two more days,” you said, quietly, feeling a wave of sadness.

“Wait—that’s it?” he asked, “you should stay longer.”

“I didn’t want to overstay, and I had the tickets booked beforehand.”

He smiled, almost to himself, “you belong here more than you know.”

You turned toward him, “hm? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jake shrugged, “I mean, it’s just a feeling.”

He hesitated then, before adding, “Heeseung and I, we’ve applied for something—work basically, we’ve been developing this app. A long term contract, near your city actually, it’ll probably be finalized soon.”

“You have?” You asked, eyes wide at the possibility of them—him being near you even when you go back.

“Yeah. A big company liked the project, and I wasn’t gonna tell anyone before it got sorted” he tilted his head toward you, “but it felt right to mention it, that’s what Hee was working on even at the beach.”

You only smiled, congratulating him, “He doesn’t seem the type to move countries.”

“I’ve been pushing him, he’s too cooped up with his past experiences, I think he needs a new start, and he admits it too.” Jake smiled, not saying too much. 

It was on your mind, why was Heeseung so hostile towards you, but you both went on discussing the portraits as he also told you about his plan to move, looking like an excited puppy yet again, the happiness oozing out of him was contagious, and you were genuinely happy for him—them. 

You paused in front of a sculpture later, observing him as his voice came quieter this time, “come back with me.”

You turned your head slightly, raising your brow.

“For dinner,” he clarified, “I’m cooking. You’re not leaving without trying my Pollo al ajillo.”

“Gonna poison me now?” You teased, “sounds scary.”

“It is,” he said cheerfully, playing along. 

You ended up in his flat now, keenly observing how clean he kept it, simple yet modern with some flashes of colours here and there, which made it seem more lively. You didn’t actually expect Jake to cook, but he did, and the kitchen smelled wonderful, warm and rather refreshing. 

You leaned against the counter, watching him bustle around—wooden spoon in his mouth, half-chopped herbs on his fingers, his shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and he looked good like this.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone cooked for you without it being an occasion, “I’m impressed,” you admitted, pushing your hair behind your ear as you glanced at the sizzling pan.

“You should be.” He grinned boyishly, “and for the record, I’m not a one trick pony. This isn’t even my best dish.”

“Oh?” you look at him, “and what is?”

He pointed the wooden spoon at you, “you’ll have to come back to find out, mi amor.”

You snorted, but your smile stayed as he kept on speaking, making you laugh a little more freely than before. He reached for his phone on the side while waiting for the chicken to simmer, thumb swiping absently, and without a word, he lifted the camera, catching you mid laugh across the counter.

“Woah, what are you doing?” You asked, as he bit his lip, proceeding to send the picture to someone, “did you just—”

“C’mon, it’s only Heeseung,” he replied casually. 

Heeseung saw the picture the second it was sent his way. 

The photo came through just as he was stepping out of the shower, hair dripping onto his collarbone, towel wrapped low on his hips. He paused with the phone in his hand, still in the doorway to his room, blinking at the screen like he’d misread it. But no, it was real, you—at Jake’s place, “she really went home with a stranger,” he muttered in disbelief. 

Jake’s message came through again. 

Jake: she’s staying for dinner 🤪

He threw the towel across the chair, it was as if his body wouldn’t listen to his mind anymore, he proceeded, moving to dress in something that didn’t look too messy, as if he wasn’t dressing up to what? Visit Jake’s place. He didn’t even bother to text back.

Back at the flat, the chicken was done. Jake plated it with surprising finesse, wiping the edge of the plate with a clean towel, handing you cutlery like a gentleman and leaning one hip on the counter to watch you take your first bite, his eyes shining with wavy hair covering his forehead. 

Your brows lifted at the scrumptiousness of the meal, “woah—Jake this is actually, really good.”

He gave a dramatic bow, winking right after, feeling giddy deep inside, “I accept tips, mi amor.”

You took another bite, rolling your eyes with pure pleasure, and you both froze when someone knocked on the door. 

“Expecting someone?” You asked, lips still glossy from the sauce. 

Jake shook his head, “no but I do have a hunch,”he said, a smirk on his face as he went over to open the door, “you’re fast,” he whispered as Heeseung came into view, eyes searching his place already. 

“What’s she doing here?” He asked, acting as if he didn’t see the picture at all. 

“Didn’t Jake send you the picture? I’m having dinner here,” you shrugged, looking away because god forbid you stare at his veiny arms, sleeves rolled up, hair still wet and curling around his forehead, and his usual frown plastered onto his face. 

He didn’t bother replying, eyeing the wine glass that was half empty, Jake’s plate right next to yours, and the shine of oil on your lips. 

“You’re lucky we have more food left, or you’d be sulking around, watching us eat,” Jake muttered, grabbing another plate, not bothering to do the fancy plating for Heeseung, who simply sat down. 

“I’m not hungry.”

Jake rolled his eyes, “tienes hambre por la froma en que la miras (you’re hungry the way you’re staring at her).”

“Cállate! (shut up),” he replied.

Jake grinned, putting his plate down as Heeseung sat across from you, while you continued eating, holding Jake’s arm when he said something that made you laugh. 

Heeseung took that as a sign to start another argument with Jake, and you stared at them, they looked so close, but right now, Heeseung looked as if he wanted to punch Jake, so before it could escalate any further, you stood up. 

“Thanks for the dinner, Jake. I think I should go now.”

“No!” 

Your eyes widened as both of them said the same thing at the same time. It was more shocking that Heeseung’s voice boomed louder than Jake. 

“Sorry?” You blinked, incredulous. 

Heeseung cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at you, silently cursing himself for acting out, yet again, “It’s late.”

“Which is usually when people leave,” you muttered, “right?”

Jake, still seated, leaned back in his chair and glanced at Heeseung with something between a smirk and disbelief, he had never seen his friend do something like this, “you gonna say it or should I?”

“Say what?” you asked, confused, eyes darting between them, heart hammering in your chest, courtesy of the man who hated you. 

Heeseung exhaled, “It’s just not safe to walk alone this late. That’s all.”

“I’m not walking, Jake said he was going to drop me off earlier.”

“He can’t drink and drive,” Heeseung said, a little too fast.

You sighed, grabbing your phone. “Okay, enough. I’ll call a cab, how about that?”

“No cab,” Heeseung said again, tone low.

Jake laughed under his breath, “this is wild. ¿Por fin te diste cuenta de que te gusta? (did you finally realize that you like her?) ”

You ignored them both and took a step toward the door, but Heeseung moved without thinking, blocking your path before you could reach it, close enough that you stopped, close enough for you to be engulfed in his scent. 

“Stay for dessert,” he said finally, softer this time, “I’ll actually make it.”

You stared at him, startled, “is this a new way of yours to bully me?”

Jake smiled, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it either, “hey! I told you he could be nice.”

“I—” you started to say, looking at Jake, who pleaded with his eyes and hands when Heeseung wasn’t looking, “uhm, okay.”

Jake stood up, ruffling his hair, trying to ease the energy in the air, because lord, it did feel heavy.

“Well, we’ve got chocolate amongst other things,” Jake said, pointing at his body. 

You fought the smile that pulled at your lips, “fine. Just the dessert, then I leave.”

Heeseung stepped aside, letting you pass. Your arm brushed his chest and his eyelids fluttered close, he stayed there for a minute, composing himself because—what was wrong with him? He proceeded to make some good old mug cakes, three of those.

As Jake excused himself to use the bathroom, Heeseung spoke up, “it’s not safe to follow strangers to their home.”

You scoffed, “yeah, so I should leave right now.”

He rolled his eyes, “so your morals work only when I’m involved?” 

“Yeah, since you’re the only one giving me unsolicited moral advice.”

“Okay—why do you hate me?”

“Me—what? You hate me!”

Jake came back right then, watching you two staring at each other with accusatory expressions, “uhm, is everything okay?”

“Cake’s ready,” Heeseung replied, and you sighed, walking towards where Jake was sitting, the corner of his lips twitched. 

You took the mug he slid towards you, face heating up for reasons you didn’t understand. The aroma was perfect, the exact sweetness you didn’t even know you were craving, and so, you took a bite which melted right on your tongue.

Jake leaned in, “moment of truth, mi amor, which one do you prefer? My dinner, or his dessert?” 

You were annoyed, because why would he even ask such a question, right in the presence of the man who was—fuming?

Jake then gave you a slight nudge from under the table, his knee brushing yours, his eyes pointing towards the cake, basically telling you to choose Heeseung’s cake. 

“Fine, the cake,” you admitted, looking elsewhere as you took yet another bite. 

“You—you traitor,” Jake stood up, acting all bothered as you laughed, pulling him back down, making him laugh alongside. 

Completely missing the red on Heeseung’s ear. 

SCENE SIX. Shining in the setting sun. 

“Bitch you better be joking,” Yunjin had almost screamed when you called her, she was the only one free at the moment. 

“I wish, It was odd honestly,” you muttered, drifting back into your thoughts about how Heeseung had the audacity to stop you, to ask why you hate him. 

“He genuinely wants you girl, you have to let it happen.”

“What’s the point? I’ll leave tomorrow evening anyway,” you gulped, feeling the familiar wave of sadness hit. 

Even after the call ended, you laid on your bed staring at the ceiling. Like your friends say, this is exactly the type of man who’ll ruin you. And maybe, just maybe, they’re right. Heeseung had a habit of biting his tongue until it bled, then blaming you for making him taste the same. 

By noon, the plan for the day was set. Jake had offered to take you out to the vineyard—something about him wanting to get drunk on wine, maybe, you needed it too. Time seemed to pass by quickly when you were there, and soon, you were heading down as Jake had offered to drive you to the place. 

You tugged open the passenger door to find Heeseung already sitting there in his white button down, seat reclined as he stared up front with his sunglasses on. It was hard to say if you were excited or annoyed now, granted there won’t be any quiet moments during the whole trip, but also because he got on your nerves.

“Took you long enough,” he spoke, voice deeper than usual which had Jake coughing down a laugh. 

“Didn’t you say it was a date, Jake?” You asked with a fake smile on your face, causing Heeseung to give him a stare, which was somehow visible through his shades. 

“My bad, mi amor, apparently he wanted to third wheel,” he replied, both of you knowing it wasn’t a date, but just something you said to irritate the man. 

“That’s cute, you’re sitting in the back,” Heeseung announced. 

“Fine, enjoy playing the passenger princess,” you said, patting his shoulder, and you could’ve sworn there was some electric charge right there, because both of you flinched at the same time. 

“Ladies, now don’t fight over me,” Jake grinned, pulling out of the driveway the second you got comfortable in your back seat. 

The road curved gently through the countryside, the windows down just enough to let the scent of sun warmed ocean filter in. You loved this place, it was beautiful beyond words, calming you down within seconds. Heeseung reached to change the song, but Jake slapped his hand away.

“My car, my playlist, mate.”

“I’m the passenger princess, remember?” Heeseung said flatly, looking at you through the rear view mirror and you kicked his seat from the back, making him groan with the childishness you held. 

Jake laughed and you leaned back, letting your head rest against the seat, hiding your smile behind your hand. The wind tangled in your hair, and for a fleeting second, you caught Heeseung watching you again, in the side mirror, but he looked away just as fast. You clicked your tongue, looking out again, somehow promising yourself to be a pain in Heeseung’s ass every second you’ll be here, granted you’ll be leaving tomorrow night. 

Once you were there, Jake was quick to open the door for you, bending down to whisper in your ear, “play along with me today, I have a point to prove.”

“I know exactly what you’re trying to do—and no, he does not like me,” you muttered. 

“Just trust me,” he smirked while Heeseung waited, uncomfortably stiff and looking elsewhere, clearly not wanting to witness Jake caging you against his car. 

This was honestly ridiculous, all three of you thought so for different reasons, yet you sighed with a nod, completely unconvinced despite everything, and as others called it—denial. 

You were barely five steps into the vineyard when the midday sun hit, draping the hills in a soft shimmer that looked like it had been painted only for you. Rows upon rows of grapevines stretched into the distance, dipping into low valleys and cresting again in sloping lines. Your eyes squinted under the brightness, the breeze carrying notes of citrus grapes. 

The tour had already begun when the three of you joined the small group. Jake kept close, glancing your way every few seconds, like he was setting the stage for some elaborate plan he had in his mind. Heeseung stayed a little further behind, sunglasses still on, veiny arms folded, and gaze drifting over the vines instead of you. And yet, the moment your laugh slipped out too loud at something Jake whispered—Heeseung’s head turned. 

The guide was explaining some fermentation barrels when you spotted a little girl sitting alone under the shade of an olive tree, lip trembling, dress bunched in her tiny fists. She couldn’t have been older than five and you were worried that she got lost. Without a word, you slipped away from the group and crouched beside her.

“Hola, are you okay?”

She looked up, eyes glossy as she sniffled, “mamá, papá.”

You frowned, “we’ll find them,” you said gently, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead, trying to explain in actions because of the language barrier, “but first—wanna see a magic trick?”

You pulled a grape from the vine nearby and balanced it on your finger, then another, pretending to juggle. Her face lit up just a little with curiosity. A second later, a pair of frantic voices broke through the quiet and the little girl stood instantly, screaming for her parents. 

Her parents rushed over, babbling thanks in Spanish, and you shook your head with a smile, waving it off saying goodbye to the girl who was smiling at you now. Jake was watching the entire time, but it was Heeseung’s reaction that made Jake chuckle.

Jake nudged him, whispering, “it’s funny how you can’t stop staring at her,” which earned a grunt in response, “she’s good with kids,” Jake tried again, teasing.

“Yeah,” Heeseung muttered, genuine this time, seeing how gentle you were with someone you couldn’t even communicate with, “I noticed.”

You stood up, brushing hands on your dress before jogging back to where the boys were waiting, “sorry, let’s go now.”

“You’re so cute, mi amor,” Jake whispered, pinching your cheek as he wrapped his arm around you, walking ahead. 

“Don’t wander off again,” Heeseung’s voice boomed from the back and you gave him a look. 

“Do you ever stop complaining?” 

“Go ahead then, we won’t look for you when you get lost.”

“I will,” Jake said and you chuckled, leaning into him further. It was clear how he enjoyed pushing Heeseung’s buttons, and somehow, it was working, as if he was on this mission to prove you wrong about him not liking you. 

This was your first time visiting a vineyard, only having seen it in movies before, and truly it did look breathtaking, even more so when your group sat down, swirling the wine glasses and tasting only the best wines you’ve ever had while staring at the curve of rolling hills, also peeking at Heeseung a few times, not noticing his stare on you, courtesy of his sunglasses. 

“So?” Jake asked, nudging you after a sip of something sweet, “thoughts on this one?”

“I like it,” you said, taking in every essence of the experience, more than delighted that you found friends even in a new place, despite how rude the other guy was, “tastes like the last one, but uh—more expensive.”

Heeseung let out the softest scoff at that, and you turned to him instantly, “what now?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair, “just listening to your expert analysis.”

“Aw! I didn’t see you writing poetry about it either,” you replied and Jake leaned forward with delight.

“I love when you fight,” he grinned, pouring the next tasting sample himself.

By now, the glasses on your table had become harder to keep count of. The pours were small, but they added up, the flavours blending into one another as the afternoon sun dipped lower, turning everything a little amber. Your legs felt lighter when you crossed them, and your elbow leaned against the table just a little longer than usual. Jake’s laugh made you laugh more than you wanted to admit. 

Jake was in the middle of asking the sommelier about oak barrels when you stood up with your glass still in hand, eyes darting to catch the sun dipping down the valley.

“I’ll be right back,” you muttered, more to the wind than to them, turning and walking toward the edge of the vineyard, where the light caught the slope just perfectly.

“Why does this feel like home?” You whispered to yourself, sitting down a bit farther than where everyone was drinking, moving down the trail. Maybe you were tipsy—so full of emotions, you never liked saying goodbye to anyone, or anything for that matter. 

You could care less about the vineyard tour now, not wanting to miss this breathtaking scene in front of you. Just the sky and silence engulfing you in the warmest hug, it felt like meditation—sitting there sipping on your rosé for the next fifteen minutes. 

“Are you trying to get lost again?” Heeseung’s voice came from a short distance back.

You didn’t turn, but a small smile graced your face, which he couldn’t see, “I won’t. I just wanted to see this up close.”

He just stopped behind you, “you’re missing the tour, we have to catch up, señorita.”

“Doesn’t matter, I can’t miss this,” you mumbled.

He sighed, “everyone left, they’re at the next stop already.”

“That’s the thing, Heeseung. You’re bound to miss some things in life. If I leave then who’s gonna watch this pretty sunset? It’s meant to be watched even if it’s for a moment.”

He stood still for a moment, wondering why he got goosebumps when it wasn’t even cold outside. With a sigh, he wordlessly sat down next to you despite the fact that he hated getting his clothes dirty. For the first time, he wondered what your story really was, who hurt you enough that you needed to savour sunsets this quietly. Just what were you running from that made you come here?

“It’s a nice view,” he said after a while, and it wasn’t about the sky really, his freckles more evident in the soft hues of the sky, yet you didn’t look at him for your own sanity, smiling freely and whispering. 

“Told you so.”

SCENE SEVEN. Behind the closed doors. 

The cellar was cooler than the sunlit hills above. You’d rejoined the group reluctantly after the brief pause at sunset, your glass empty and your head still fogged with rosé, you felt giddy. The stone steps led down into the vineyard’s oldest corner with arched ceilings and dusty wine barrels stacked around.

You followed just behind Jake, your shoulder brushing his arm as the guide gestured toward the rows of barrels and began to explain the process of aging wine in Spanish and English both. Jake then excused himself for a moment, walking ahead with the guide, speaking quickly, something about una experiencia divertida (a fun experience) and cinco minutos (five minutes). 

The guide chuckled, agreeing with what Jake said, which made you narrow your eyes at him, “what was that?” 

“Nothing,” he said with his usual smile, “just making the tour more, well, memorable.”

You didn’t get a chance to question it as you stepped into the last chamber of the cellar, the cold creeping at your arms, dim light flickering from a single bulb overhead. The guide nodded politely after explaining and walked off as everyone started to get out, Jake lingered behind, holding the heavy door just as you and Heeseung moved to follow everyone out. 

What you didn’t expect was the loud thud and the sound of the latch—this man had locked you inside with none other than Lee Heeseung.

“Jake?” you called, already walking to the door with wide eyes. 

His voice came muffled from the other side, far too amused, “cinco minutos, por favor (five minutes please).”

“Are you serious?” you groaned, trying the handle—which didn’t really budge.

“¡Bésala, idiota! (kiss her, idiot)” he yelled, full of joy before his footsteps retreated up the stairs, and silence reclaimed the space, your mouth hung open at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

You turned slowly, arms folded across your chest, the cellar dim around you. Heeseung was leaning against one of the barrels again, his jaw tight and his big hand covering his forehead. He looked stressed beyond words, meanwhile you could hear your own heartbeat.

“This can’t be happening,” you muttered, wondering how your gleeful mood from the sunset turned so sour at the situation, or maybe you were just curious about Heeseung and his new gentle behaviour now. 

“Can’t believe we’re locked in a cellar because Jake’s bored.” He ran a hand through his hair. 

You just groaned, leaning against the cold stone wall, wondering how long he’d planned on keeping you locked in here. Yes, you were alone with Heeseung even while watching the sunset, but this? The forced proximity wasn’t doing you any good. Just as you got accustomed to the silence, Heeseung closed his eyes, asking you a question. 

“Do you—actually like him?” 

“What?” 

“Jake, do you like him?”

You wanted to laugh at him, but then you noticed how flushed he looked, serious about this question, which had heat crawling up your neck. 

“Why do you ask?”

He exhaled, “he’s my friend, I’m just curious. You both flirt a lot.”

“Scared I’ll hurt him or something?” You chuckled. 

“Mierda (shit),” he muttered, “you seem to enjoy his flirting.”

“You’re his friend, you should know that it’s his nature,” you shrugged, “I don’t mind it.”

He pushed himself off the barrel, stepping closer now, stopping right in front of you, bending his neck a little to get on your level, your back straightening as you tried to push yourself back on the wall in hopes of creating some space but to no avail, his gaze dipped to your mouth before returning to your eyes.

“You weren’t made for flirting,” he said again, voice an octave deeper and he wanted to stop speaking, but he couldn’t. 

And before you could ask what he meant by that, he spoke up again, “so—do you?”

“Do you want me to say no?” you whispered, and his expression gave it away, as he leaned in exactly when you heard the heavy door creaking open.

You stepped back like you’d been woken up from a dream, your arm brushing against the cold wall for balance before you turned and strode to the door, catching Jake’s surprised expression as he peeked in. You didn’t bother looking back. 

Jake was confused when you grabbed his arm and pulled him along, “I swear I’m gonna kill you,” you muttered once you were far enough. 

“What? Did something happen?” He asked, worried at how breathless you seemed at that moment. 

“Just—don’t do this again, please.” You sighed and he nodded, giving you his jacket as he walked you to the next wine stop, watching behind you to find still in the cellar, the moment left hanging like a breath you hadn’t quite finished taking.

He nodded, hair falling to his forehead, “okay, yeah noted,” he looked at your face, “you okay? Are you running a fever?”

“I’m fine, yeah,” you shrugged off the burn crawling up your neck.

The tour had already moved on, the group now gathered near another tasting setup beneath a vine-wrapped trellis. It all felt blurry as you joined them again, your fingers curling around the stem of a fresh glass, not bothering to sip, only gulping it down. You were on your second glass before you even registered the taste, it felt good regardless, third before you noticed you hadn’t said a word since you rejoined.

Jake handed you another glass with a smile, tilting his head, “take it slow, mi amor.”

You rolled your eyes but took it as you felt the soft breeze of the beautiful night air, and when you turned your head slightly, you caught him staring—Heeseung, leaning back against a wooden post just behind the group, his expression back to being unreadable. He didn’t bother drinking now. You looked away quickly, lifting the glass to your lips again. 

“You know,” Jake said, watching you finish the pour, “if you wanna keep drinking, we can head back to Hee’s bar after this. It’ll be quieter, closer to your place too.”

“I don’t wanna be around him.”

“Did he say something?”

“No,” you trailed off.

He knew something did happen, looking at Heeseung who seemed lost in his thoughts, eyes still on you, and he bit his lip, wondering if he took it too far, or was it something you both needed? 

“I’ll be there, yeah? Don’t worry,” he whispered, you needed to resolve whatever was going on, or else you’d be miserable leaving tomorrow, and Heeseung? He’ll be miserable forever. 

CHAPTER EIGHT. Moonlit confessions 

Heeseung’s bar was lively by the time you reached there. To say the drive was awkward would be an understatement, but you managed somehow. Inside, the bar still held that familiar dim lit glow. Bottles lined the wall behind the counter like a curated painting, and you slid into one of the leather booths while Jake walked ahead to speak to the bartender, bringing in three drinks for each of you. Heeseung lingered behind, then eventually took the seat across from you.

“You guys look good together,” Heeseung spoke up, clearly mocking, “had fun playing girlfriend boyfriend, hm? Back to reality tomorrow.”

Jake gave Heeseung a warning look, which screamed shut up, don’t speak further, while you raised your brow, “what’s wrong with you, huh?”

“Me? I’m just stating facts, you came here for distraction, didn’t you? A vacation. Just gonna leave now?”

“It’s not like we’re not gonna meet again, you’re literally gonna move cities in a few months, and nothing is happening here,” you tried to control your anger as you said so. 

“So you’re playing the long distance game then,” he hummed. 

“Solo cállate, ¿qué estás tratando de hacer? (just shut up, what are you trying to do?)” Jake asked, incredulous now. 

“Game?” You whispered, having had enough of him, letting out a shaky exhale, “honestly, Heeseung—you don’t know shit about me, okay? If you hate me that much then that’s great! Cause you won’t see me around you ever again.”

You stood so fast your chair scraped, your heart beating out of your ribs as you grabbed your bag and walked straight out the back of the bar. Jake called your name—but you didn’t stop. You needed air. The moment the heavy door swung shut behind you, the ocean breeze hit your skin, you took the steps down two at a time, your breath caught in your throat as you crossed the sand, heels in one hand now, bare feet sinking into the chilled grains beneath as you took off your sandals. 

Sitting down far enough for the tide to not reach you, you hugged your knees, letting the wind pull at your hair while the moonlight cut soft lines over the restless sea, everything making you rethink your life. The breakup, the trip, running into Heeseung, befriending Jake—it was supposed to bring you a good time, and it did till some extent, until he ruined it. 

Inside the bar, the door swung shut with a dull thud that echoed loud enough for other customers to notice. Jake just stared at the empty space where you’d been sitting, jaw clenched at the scene which had unfolded in front of him. Heeseung stayed frozen across from him, eyes still on the glass.

“¿Estás satisfecho ahora?” Jake asked quietly. (Are you satisfied now?)

Heeseung appeared to be tired, finally looking up. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to explain,” Jake snapped, voice rising just enough that the bartender glanced over to where his boss was sitting, wondering what went wrong, “what the hell was that?”

Heeseung leaned back, running a hand through his hair, “hm? I told the truth.”

“No,” Jake said sharply, standing now, “you hurt her cause you were jealous, but you can’t even admit it, you’re too blinded by your what ifs to live in the present.”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, “you know exactly why I’m like this, Jake.”

“Oh, I do,” Jake retorted, “but does that give you any right to hurt her? Do you even know her?”

Heeseung laughed under his breath, “that’s the thing, I do. She fidgets with her bracelet when she’s nervous, she likes to stare at the sky because her favourite colour is blue, she picks out tomatoes from her dish cause she hates it, she—”

Jake scoffed, “and what? You go ahead and hurt the girl you have undeniably fallen for? Are you hearing yourself, Hee?”

He only sighed, shaking his head, staring at the door for a while as Jake went on trying to knock some sense into him, before Hee stood up, running out without thinking twice.

Meanwhile, you didn’t hear the footsteps in the sand, eyes trained on the moon reflecting on water, but your body tensed the second you felt that familiar scent of Heeseung right behind you. You turned your head, saw him standing there in the moonlight, breathless, hair tousled like he’d run the whole way.

You moved to stand, wiping at your eyes quickly, but he was faster—reaching out and catching your wrist, his fingers warm around your skin despite the breeze.

“Wait,” Heeseung said, almost in a whisper, “I—I’m sorry, don’t go yet.”

You stared at him, unsure what hurt more—the words he’d said inside, or the way his grip on you was gentle now, almost like he was afraid you’d vanish if he actually let go. 

“You’ve said enough, Heeseung, it’s alright honestly, you don’t have to worry about me being there to bother you.”

He shook his head, “I—my mom,” he started to speak, pulling you down to sit beside him, eyes full of hurt, “we were a happy family, but then she left us—for a guy. For a tourist.”

He was opening up, explaining himself as you sat frozen listening to his side of the story for the first time, “I was fourteen, wondering if I was a bad son, if I should have been nicer to her so she wouldn’t have left. Dad was completely broken, spending all his time working, paying bills. I promised myself I would never let anyone get close to me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“But that doesn’t excuse what i’ve been doing all along. Y/N, I don’t hate you, I hate that I’ve been thinking about you non stop, fuck I—I hate seeing you with Jake and how easily he makes you smile, hate that he gets to know you upfront and I have to hear it from him.”

You couldn’t believe your ears, nor could you control the warmth spreading through your chest, but you also couldn’t help but feel like it was a little too late for him to say this, after all, it didn’t matter anymore, did it? He was always there, saving you from tripping, but also throwing you in the water; picking fights, but also watching the sunset with you in silence. It was too confusing. 

“I get it,” you said, finally, “I do. But it wasn’t easy being on the other end of that either. You made me feel like I was constantly in the way.”

“I know,” he exhaled, “and I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t come here to find anyone, Heeseung,” you added, voice softer now, “this trip—it was supposed to be with someone else, my ex. I planned it months ago, everything. But he was cheating and I—”

You stopped, the ache crawling up your chest again, “I told myself I’d still come, that I could enjoy this place without him, that maybe, just maybe I’d find peace. I was happy i found friendship here, but also your hatred.”

You stood up slowly, the sand sliding beneath your feet, brushing off your palms against the sides of your dress. Heeseung didn’t say anything—he just sat there, watching you with broken eyes, face shining even in the dim moonlight, hair messier than ever. 

“I didn’t expect much,” you said after a long pause, “but I didn’t think you’d make me feel like I didn’t belong here either.”

He shifted, like he wanted to get up too, but you glanced at him once, and he knew he shouldn’t, that there was no point in pushing this any further. You looked out at the water one last time, then back at him.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, quieter,  “like you said—I leave tomorrow night, but it was nice meeting you, Heeseung.”

You gave him a small nod, more out of habit than anything else before turning and walking up the path toward the street. Your shoes hung loosely from your hand, chest feeling heavier than ever, and you wondered why you even liked him. Some people say that there’s no limit to how quickly you can fall for someone. It wasn’t love, but it was something, and Heeseung felt the same. 

He didn’t call after you, just staring at the place where you’d been sitting seconds ago, frowning, heart pulled in directions he’d been trying to ignore all along.

And now it was too late.

SCENE NINE. It’s never too late. 

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime and you stepped out, barefoot now, your phone in one hand, towel clutched in the other. The silence of the rooftop wrapped around you like a blanket, cooler air brushing against your skin as the overhead lights flickered dimly above the glimmering water. You hadn’t expected the pool to be empty at this hour, not with the heat still rising from the concrete, yet it was.

After dropping your towel near a lounge chair, you stripped down to your bikini, and stepped into the water without much hesitation. The cold creeped at your ankles, then your thighs, and soon you felt weightless. It didn’t take you much time to come back to the hotel, and you decided you needed some time in the water to cool off, so here you were, at the rooftop pool, washing all your worries away. 

You swam without thought, trying to let the ache in your chest dissolve into the salt chlorine mix. You weren’t drunk anymore, it all wore off earlier at the bar. Heeseung had already taken care of that. You floated onto your back, eyes closed, letting the sky swallow you whole, letting your ears dip beneath the surface, hearing only the muted, echoing underwater hush and not the rooftop door opening and closing shut. 

Then you heard his voice calling out your name, which had you flipping upright in the water, looking his way now, hair slicked back and clinging to your neck, and there he was, stepping out of his shoes, unbuttoning his shirt, throwing it all on the floor—Heeseung was here. 

You turned away, gliding a few feet further into the water, arms sweeping slowly under the surface. The moon caught the arc of your shoulders as you turned your head back when he slid in behind you, eyes on your back, gulping, “glad I found you,” his deep voice broke the silence. 

Closing your eyes, you turned around, opening it to stare at the man in front of you now. He looked beautiful, undeniably so, breathing hard as you whispered his name, wondering why he followed you this time, granted the conversation was over already. 

“I couldn’t let the night end like that,” he said, stepping closer. 

“Like what?” You asked, breathless as he looked even more majestic in the dim lights, especially when he didn’t have his guard up—emotions laid bare in front of you. 

“Just us—us not together.”

“Heeseung,” you mumbled, and he swore he loved listening to you call out his name, “you’ll regret this.”

It was clear that he was traumatized, hence why he kept on pushing you away. Honestly, had it been just a one meet-up thing, it wouldn’t have affected him, but you’d been around him a few days now—too early to get attached, but enough time that it would linger in his mind. Yes, he had plans on moving to your city, but it wasn’t confirmed yet. 

He chuckled despite it all, “maybe. But I’ll definitely regret not doing this sooner.” His hand pulled you closer to him by your waist underwater, his touch confident now, just how it’s always been.  The heat between your bodies bloomed instantly, juxtaposing the mildly cool water. Heeseung’s chest brushed against yours now, and his gaze didn’t waver. 

You exhaled shakily, instinctively pressing your palm to his chest. His heart was pounding, you could feel it, just like your own. You could feel every beat of it beneath your touch. His skin was flushed, droplets of water rolling down the curve of his neck as he bent slightly forward—close enough now that you could feel the heat of his breath fanning over your lips.

“Are you sure—” 

His hand came up, sliding along your jaw with his fingers splayed, thumb settling beneath your chin, he tipped your face up as if he’d done it a thousand times in his head already (he did). His eyes flicked to your mouth, darker than before. 

Without thinking much, he pulled you closer, slotting his lips upon yours, heat flooding your senses as your half formed thought disappeared against his lips. The kiss was deep immediately, his grip grounding you as if the water itself couldn’t be trusted to keep you close enough. You felt it everywhere—the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand at your waist flexed, only praying for a second to take deep breaths, panting as he stared into your eyes, trying to hold you impossibly close, feeling weightless in the water. 

“Don’t—” he whispered, nose pressed against yours, losing composure and saying exactly what he wished for, “don’t go back.”

“You know I can’t stay here,” you breathed, and he pressed his lips upon yours again, your fingers tugging on his hair now. 

“This feels too real to lose, señorita,” he caressed the curve of your cheek. 

“Trust me I want this too, but you know I have to go,” you replied, cupping his jaw as he leaned into your touch. 

You expected a reply, maybe a little statement saying it’s alright, but his hold only faltered, not arguing with you anymore, not shutting you up with another kiss, just staying there in your presence, trying to memorize the weight of your essence. And somehow, that was enough of an answer.

With a small smile, you slipped out of his hold, swimming back to the other end of the pool, which had started heating up the water again. You grabbed your towel, wrapped it around your figure with shaky hands, not looking back as you headed towards your room. 

He simply stared at you disappearing behind the door, body screaming to run, to pull you back again, to chase you, but he stayed frozen in his spot, mentally cursing himself for the end of your trip to turn out this way. Was it really the end? He stayed there for a few minutes, the silence being loud, screaming you fucked up, fingers curling into a fist. 

“No,” he whispered, rushing out of the pool, water dripping down his bare chest, pants soaked as he reached for his shirt, not caring about the water anymore, not when he had somewhere to be. He had followed you mindlessly before—at the beach, at the vineyard, at Jake’s place, but now? He was fully conscious about what he wanted, even if it was for a night. 

His breath fogged in the cooler rooftop air as he shoved his hand into the pocket of his discarded shirt on the ground—fingers closing around the keycard—your keycard. The one you’d dropped days ago, and he’d kept. Not to use, he never meant to. But he couldn’t bring himself to hand it back either. He didn’t even know why, not until now.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, already slipping his feet into his shoes, not bothering to dry off. The water sloshed with every step down the hallway as he ran to the elevator, shirt clutched in one hand, keycard clenched in the other. He couldn’t let this end with a goodbye in the pool.

Just as the door opened to your floor, he bolted out, standing outside of your room now, pondering whether to knock or just barge right in. He chose the latter, tapping the keycard as the lock beeped green. You were standing right outside the bathroom, ready to take a shower when you heard it, Heeseung standing by the doorway, entering your room. 

Your breath hitched, “Heeseung?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just held up the keycard between his fingers, the one he had taken away after pinning you to the wall, “I wasn’t gonna use it—I couldn’t help it.” He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.

The card slipped from his hold and onto the floor, and with three strides, he was standing right in front of you, fingers curling just beneath your chin, you couldn’t help but stare at his lips again, not having enough strength to push him away anymore, not when you craved him—not when he stared at you with those honey eyes, which appeared more serious now. 

“You know—” 

“I know you’ll leave,” he didn’t let you finish, “and I hesitated back then, but, I’d rather live in the present and not think about it, if you allow me to,” he mumbled, eyes taking you in and he swore—you were the prettiest person he’d ever seen. 

“No regrets?” You asked, staring into his eyes. 

“None. Ask me to leave if you have any,” he said. His forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in, jaw clenched, “say it and I’ll go.”

You took in a deep breath, shaking your head just a little, and that’s all it took for the corner of his lip to curl up, he only grabbed your neck and held you back, his other hand now behind your head so you wouldn’t hurt yourself as he pushed you against the wall. 

It was urgent the way his lips felt plush against yours, as if he was yearning to have you closed, impossibly so. Your towel fell down, as you stood there in your swimwear, moaning into his mouth, which he swallowed greedily. He let you feel every inch of frustration within him—he made you taste it, licking your mouth open, mumbling when you both stopped to catch your breath, “mi cariño (my dear),” he caressed your neck. 

He wanted to taste you again, and again. The tension lingered as he opened the bathroom door in a swift motion, diving into another kiss, moving you inside along with him, touching every inch of you—so fast you couldn’t even register what was happening. One second you were pressed against the wall, the other, you were kissing Heeseung under the warmth of the water droplets falling over you, right under the shower. 

It felt surreal—breathing him in, tracing his torso, holding him tight, all as he tried his best to show you just how bad he’d been craving this, “fuck—Heeseung!” You whined just as he started pressing open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your neck. 

“You have idea—” he groaned, “—how hard I controlled myself seeing you prance around with Jake, fuck, he even took you home,” he said, biting your supple skin, sucking on it hard enough for it to bruise. 

“Ah—you’re so fucking adorable when you’re jealous,” you teased, eyes closing under the warmth of him and the water and he chuckled, pushing your bikini bottom to the side, groping your cunt harshly.

“Hm? Is that so?” He continued tracing you with his slender fingers, enjoying how you were soaked, quite literally. The warmth of the water fogged up the air as you arched your back, body surrendering to his touch, making him smirk, “see? It’s so easy to be a good girl.”

His voice came out low, fingers dragging along your slit, teasing you further as you tried to stand still, clenching around nothing, mind dizzy with excitement and anticipation. You knew it would feel good, but this? It felt beyond heavenly, which was crazy granted he hadn’t even done much yet.

With his chest pressed firmly against yours under the streaming water, his lips brushed against your ear, “he got to see you like that—carefree and happy, all while I was suffering in denial, and you enjoyed it, huh?”

He curled his fingers against you, and your knees nearly gave out. You whimpered, but Heeseung held you steady, his other hand gripping the back of your thigh, hoisting your leg up just enough to slot himself closer. You cried out, pulling him closer—as if that was even possible anymore. 

He lifted your leg, grinding his hips forward just to feel how close he could get, his cock hard between you, trapped against you. “Mírate,” he hissed, sucking on your bottom lip as he fucked his fingers into you rougher now, “tan desordenada,” (look at you, so messy.) 

His fingers plunged into you, just as you blabbed  his name mindlessly, not understanding what he spoke, but you felt it in his actions, actions that involved taking control of all your senses, “eres tan chiquita—tan jodidamente mojada aquí beba,” (you’re so little, so fucking wet here) he looks up at you with a glimmer in his eyes and then he says, “eres mía. Me escuchaste? Ya sabes que eres mía verda?” (you’re mine. You hear me? you already know you’re mine right?)

“¿No me entiendes, baby? (don’t understand me, baby?)” he teased, dragging his lips lower—tongue flicking across the valley between your breasts as he pulled down the straps of your bikini top, exposing your chest to the warm water. 

He kissed over one nipple, sucking slow circles, tongue tracing the bud before sucking it harshly. You gasped, clutching at his soaked hair, grinding against his fingers that were still moving inside you, deeper now. Yes, you didn’t understand, but his voice only made you clench harder. He let go with a loud pop over the noise of water, “you don’t need to understand, your cunt does that very well.”

His kisses trailed lower, open-mouthed, paired with biting at your ribs, the expanse of your belly, before he sank to his knees, dragging your leg over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. He kissed the inside of your thigh, sucking at the tender skin until it throbbed, eyes on your face scrunched with ecstasy, his tongue moving lower with a smirk.

“Tan suave (so soft),” he murmured against your pussy, nose brushing where his fingers still worked you open—pulling them out, only to replace that spot with his mouth. Your head hit the tiled wall behind you with a soft thud as he moaned against your pussy, tongue licking a flat, slow stripe that made your vision blur. His hands gripped your thighs tighter as he sucked on your clit, licking around it right after, teasing.

Your fingers trembled in his hair, “I—I can’t, Hee—”

“Sí puedes,” he groaned, voice vibrating against your cunt, “no me digas que no puedes, (Yes, you can, don’t tell me you can’t.)” 

“Feels so good,” you moaned, fueling the fire even more.

He laughed softly, tongue flicking your clit fast now, sending a shiver up your spine. “You’re gonna come all over my tongue, preciosa,” he mumbled, lapping at you, “quiero ver cómo lloras por mí.” (I want to see how you cry for me.)

And then he sucked on your clit, mouth never leaving, tongue curling with his lips locked around it, till you shattered, knees buckling, and suddenly, the water didn’t feel hot anymore, at least not compared to the feeling of orgasm that ripped through you, messy and loud, just as Heeseung wanted it. 

Your cries filled the bathroom, nails scratching his scalp, and Heeseung moaned as you came, lapping through it like he was the one losing control.

“Eso es—así es como me gusta, (that’s it—that’s how I like it.)” he panted against your twitching cunt, licking up every drop. And then, just when you thought he’d stop—he kissed your clit again, watching your body jolt with a chuckle. 

“Shh,” he murmured, voice still thick as his mouth stayed right there, lips brushing your oversensitive clit again, “no hemos terminado.” (we’re not finished.)

Your legs twitched over his shoulders, the strength gone from them long ago, but Heeseung didn’t move. Instead, he kissed your overstimulated cunt with reverence, dragging another long stripe that made your hips jerk in place. He chuckled, his breath making your whole body clench.

“You’re still shaking,” he whispered, kissing the inside of your thigh this time, letting his teeth graze the skin he’d already bruised, “and i’ve barely started.”

Water rolled down his chest, slicking the muscle and vein running down his neck as he stood up, and when he looked at you—his eyes were hungry, lips pink from kissing you, chin wet from your orgasm, and he looked like—like a sin in the flesh. Your back hit the wall with a light thud, breath catching when his hands came to cup your face.

“You okay?” he asked, but his voice was already thick with want, knowing damn well you were far past any coherent answer. Still, his thumbs traced your cheeks, the touch felt gentle, until he took off his pants and boxers in one go, his length coming into view, now pressed against your belly, twitching there, as if waiting. You nodded before you could stop yourself, too dazed to lie.

His smirk returned, “that’s my girl.”

He kissed you again, this time longer. Lips plush and warm, tongue sliding against yours. His hands held your hips, thumbs digging into the curves as he guided you back, letting you feel him—all of him. His cock rubbed against your folds, not pushing in yet, simply coating himself in everything he’d already taken from you.

“You feel that?” His hips rolled again, letting the tip catch at your entrance, then slip away, “that’s what you do to me. Every fucking time you smile, every time you look at him instead of me.”

You swallowed hard, “he’s a friend,” you tried to explain, but he wasn’t listening.

“Every time you speak to Jake like I’m not watching, as if I wouldn’t fuck you so slow, so deep, you’d forget his name.”

He dipped his head, tongue flicking at the shell of your ear as he dragged the tip of his cock down your slit again.

You whined again, forehead pressing against his, “please, Hee—”

That made him groan, deep from his chest, “Mierda, I’ve waited so long for that sound.”

Then he reached under your thighs, lifting you gently, your back sliding up the wet wall. His cock prodding your entrance, this time not teasing, just holding you there, letting you feel everything, looking into your eyes, not wanting you to leave, still, he wasn’t saying it out loud, not again.

“You’re gonna take it all, princesa,” he whispered, lips brushing yours, “gonna make you mine.”

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he pushed in, the stretch painful yet beyond perfect, he was bigger than any other man you’d been with before. Heeseung groaned against your neck, his hands tightening around your thighs as he eased in inch by inch, dragging it out so you’d feel every part of him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, jaw clenched as your pussy squeezed around him. “You’re so—jodidamente apretada. (so fucking tight.) Like you were made for this.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your head thrown back, the steam swirling around both of you as he filled you entirely. When his hips finally met yours, he stayed there—cock pulsing inside you, bottoming out fully as you clenched around him with need. 

It was effortless how he moved in and out of you so easily despite groaning about how tight your little hole was and you felt dumb, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t speak. You simply knew and felt one thing and that was Heeseung—the man who ran into you on your first day here. 

And if you weren’t crazy before, now you had reached your limit of madness, even a poke from his side was like a pleasant burning wound to your skin, his actions also made you realize just how hungry Heeseung was for being the one in control, pulling himself out to turn your around, pressing his chest against your back as he plunged into you again. 

“So good,” you let out, the noise of your skin slapping in the water reverberating in the room. 

He had never found anyone like you before, it was as if you were the only one for him, the one who reacts to his touch in such ways, the one who drives him insane to the point he has to rile you up just to get you to talk to him. He only moved harder, thrusts relentless now as he groaned into your ear each time you clenched around him, his own cock twitching with need. 

Choked moans escaped your lips, reaching the point of complete incoherence as you got drunk in the intensity of his presence, your senses overwhelmed as he fucked you without any interruptions, noticing how you were close to yet another orgasm now. 

He groaned, “close now, hm?” 

You nodded as much as you could muster, and he only chuckled, “what if I don’t let you? Don’t you think you deserve a little punishment for making me all jealous, yeah?”

“What—Heeseung, no! I swear—oh fuck—it was all Jake, not me!”

“Uh-huh? So you didn’t enjoy his attention?” He asked, snapping his hips up in yet another powerful thrust. 

If it would have been any other time, you would have laughed in his face, but now? He had you dumb and breathless, mind chanting a mantra of his name, and his name only, no room for anyone else, especially with the pressure building in your lower abdomen yet again. 

When he didn’t hear any replies, he smacked his palm on your ass, groping it harsh, “say it,” he ordered, and you did, mewling out a barely coherent no.

“Good girl,” he chuckled, tongue trailing up from your neck to your ear, hand sliding down your front, pressing over your lower belly, holding you down on his cock like he wanted to feel himself inside from the outside, “you feel that, baby?” he groaned, “that’s me, that’s how deep I am. Nobody’s ever gonna fuck you like this.”You could only gasp, body seizing up from the overwhelming pressure building inside you, the stretch of him—every inch of you stretched taut around his cock. You nodded, breathless as his hips kept rolling into you.

“That’s it,” he rasped, lips brushing your ear, fingers circling your clit again, “let go for me—just for me.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, it was too much, he angled his hips, rutting into you from below, perfectly, and your mouth dropped open in a silent cry.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured, panting now as he felt you clamp around him, “let me feel how much you want it.”

That’s all it took for you to finally cry out, your orgasm bursting through you, your legs giving out, it felt insane, the unadulterated pleasure he so effortlessly gave you, tears pricked the corners of your eyes, the release so intense it almost hurt.

Heeseung groaned from behind you, his thrusts stuttering.

“Shit, that’s it—fuck, you’re squeezing me—so fucking good,” he growled, hips still moving, chasing the aftershocks of your high, his cock twitching inside you, and just as your orgasm ebbed, he pressed flush against you, hips slamming in one final time before he stilled—buried deep, and came with a loud moan right by your ear, filling you up with his arms wrapping tight around your stomach. 

The steam swirled around both of you, water running down flushed skin, but neither of you moved.

“Cariño mira me, (honey, look at me,) ” he whispered, pulling out and helping you turn around to face him again, only to find his face flushed, water still running.

“Stay the night,” you say before he could, still breathing hard, eyes focused on his expression. 

It was pure madness how quick he held you in his arms again, leaning to bite your bottom lip. 

“We still have the night, and half a day tomorrow.”

SCENE TEN. The aftermath. 

It had been half a year, or perhaps more than that, but your life did back on track after the whole breakup, and post trip depression. It was a hard goodbye for the latter one. 

Heeseung had promised you he’d keep in touch, but perhaps he couldn’t bring himself to do it again, not when he had given you a big piece of his heart when you left, especially when he had promised it wasn’t the end, but now you could feel that it was. 

Jake on the other hand, had kept in touch with you, informing you about every single detail of what was going on in their lives, stressing on the fact that Heeseung had turned absolutely crazy working on the app to the point he forgot to sleep during certain nights. 

But hey, it worked out in the end, all those sleepless nights paid off, because the boys got that contract, and they were flying in today—the thought itself had your heart racing, or rather, hurting with the fact that Heeseung might not wish to see you again anymore, even though Jake did say he wished to visit today, and you were certainly happy with that too. 

Jake had become a good friend of yours over the time, there was never a dull conversation with him, and he made sure to tell you that he felt the exact same—also, your friend Isa was more than excited to meet the puppy like boy in flesh, having harboured a little crush on him based off of your experience. 

With a sigh, you sipped on your coffee, thinking about the times your ex tried to approach you, and when it got too much, he even had the audacity to crash your dinner with your friends—who simply have had enough of him, resulting in him running away after getting slapped by Yunjin. Safe to say, he never approached you again. 

However, your mind drifted off to Heeseung at all times, even when you were at work, often thinking about how he kissed you goodbye, saying something in Spanish that you didn’t understand, eyes holding the kind of sadness you’d only ever read in books. It was unforgettable how it had to end, but also unfortunate that Heeseung had given up. 

You thought of all the possibilities of meeting him again, or the lack of. It was honestly a given that you were never gonna find anyone like him. Yes, it started off rocky but that was the essence of what you had with Heeseung, and despite it all, you wouldn’t change a thing. 

The doorbell was quick to break your train of thoughts. You set your cup down on the counter, making your way to the door, wondering if it was your delivery man, only to find the man you’d spend hours thinking about. 

Lee Heeseung, breathing hard as if he had run all the way here to your apartment. Your eyes widened, chest heaving as you tried to believe your eyes, wondering if it was playing tricks on you—but the second he breathed out your name, you knew it was real. 

“Heeseung, you—”

He was quick to grab your waist, pulling you into him effortlessly, silencing you with a deep kiss, both of you smiling into it before he rested his forehead on yours, “I’m sorry for being late, I had to be sure—I had to be here, and now I won’t ever let you go, cariño.”

“I—why now?” You asked, not because you doubted him, but because you wished to hear it from him, your heart fluttering when he cupped your jaw. 

“Because I realised I wasn’t building anything if it wasn’t leading back to you,” he murmured, “every fucking pitch, every all-nighter, every time Jake tried to distract me—I was still thinking of you. I had to work hard so I could have the guts to come find you, so I could tell you I’m not afraid anymore.”

Your breath hitched as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, “if I have to start from scratch, I’ll do it. If you need time, I’ll wait. But I’m not walking away again.”

Without thinking much, you pulled him into another kiss, his fingers tapping your thigh twice—making you jump a little for him to hold you, your legs wrapping around his waist just as he closed the door shut. 

And for the first time in months, you could feel that something wasn’t ending, rather, something was finally beginning. 

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[heegyukeluv]

heegyukeluv masterlist

love-battery (fluff, request) I offer you my everything (fluff, smut, virginity loss) your eyes only (fluff, smut, request) if love was a battlefield ft. jake (fluff, smut, love triangle with no threesome, request) fall for you (fluff, request) M.O.R.E. - my only ruined escape (lhs) (smut, y/n cheats her dick husband with hee) cross the line (smut, fluff, childhood bestfriends to lovers) CHAPTER ONE: you&me (smut, sub hee)

a hundred sunsets (smut, fluff, kinda sub jake) ... and a bit more (smut, fluff, extra for 'a hundred sunsets') the devil wears prada (smut) if love was a battlefield ft. heeseung (fluff, smut, love triangle with no threesome, request) complementary - the physics of your body [part 1] (fluff, angst, smut, brother's best friend) complementary - the physics of your body [part 2] (fluff, angst, smut, brother's best friend) it's okay... (smut)

tangled - hyung line when the reader has curly hair (fluff, scenario) can't take it? enha's hyung line when reader has high stamina and can go multiple rounds (smut, scenario)