𝓽𝓪𝓼 :3

faery // 19 // hyunjin & jake biased !!

[icupsaki]

may you never forget me

synopsis: in which heeseung spots you in the crowd and realises that his past lover has been reincarnated once again. however this time around, he definitely isn't letting you go.

pairing: idol!lee heeseung x f!reader

genre: historical (joseon era) au, modern au, romance, past lovers, red string theory (sort of), bittersweet, reincarnation, dual timeline, vampire!heeseung

cw: angst, major character death, blood/violence, attempted suicide, implied that reader has depression, age gap relationship, fluff, yearning from both sides, porn with plot, unprotected sex, power dynamics, unestablished relationships, dubcon (heeseung uses vampire hypnosis once), dom/sub, oral (m receiving), fingering, choking, rough sex, manhandling but it’s consensual, possessive!heeseung, slight breathplay, overstimulation, biting, spanking, brat tamer(?)!heeseung, implied multiple rounds, sort of emotional manipulation on heeseung's side, reader is also hinted to have social anxiety, heeseung takes advantage of this, no use of y/n, semi proofread (sorry for any mistakes)

word count: around 19k (i don't even know how this happened)

MDNI

the stadium pulsed with noise.

lights flashed across thousands of raised phones, white and silver beams sweeping over the crowd like waves. somewhere to your right, a girl was crying so hard she could barely scream his name out anymore.

but that was understandable, in your eyes at least.

it was lee heeseung, after all.

on the massive screen above the stage, his face appeared again alongside his members, sweat-damp hair falling into dark eyes, breath uneven from dancing all night.

you were so close to the stage, standing in the pit. your throat burned from screaming too, though your voice had long disappeared many songs ago.

heeseung drew you in so much, but it almost didn't feel voluntary. not in the way that you were being forced to like him, but in the way that you felt as if you were bound to love him. your chest ached so violently watching him smile that you had to press a hand against it.

heeseung steps forward, microphone lifted effortlessly as the opening notes of the final chorus rang through the stadium. the cameras follow him with ease. for a moment, he tilts his head slightly, eyes skimming over the crowd out of habit.

that's when his eyes land on you.

you think it's just a lucky glance, him simply sparing his gaze across the sea of people like usual. he never pulls away.

for a second, his expression falters, and that's when you can confirm that his eyes are on you. it's subtle enough for nobody else to notice, as he pulls away shortly after.

your breath catches in your throat from the way he looked at you like he knew you somehow, which would be impossible. maybe you reminded him of somebody?

heeseung avoids your side of the stage for a remainder of the night, only returning toward the end. every time he drifts near that side again, his gaze stays deliberately elsewhere, toward the upper sections, the cameras, his members, anywhere but you.

idols are trained to look everywhere. to make every fan feel seen, but he avoids your eyes so carefully it almost feels intentional.

by the final song, you’ve nearly convinced yourself you imagined the entire thing. maybe he wasn't looking at you at all.

confetti spills from the ceiling in silver streams, disappearing beneath flashing lights and deafening screams. the members bow beside him, smiling breathlessly as they thank the crowd.

after he bows too, he looks up, straight at you.

you blink, your heart pounding extra hard. this time, the hurt in his expression is unmistakeable. he looks like he's in some sort of pain.

the concert is basically over after that, and enhypen say good bye to all of their fans. you go home, tired after the commute home. you can't stop thinking of the way heeseung looked at you tonight, even if it was just you being delusional.

you don't fall asleep like you usually do. at first, you lie on your back staring at the ceiling, phone face-down beside you, unable to get anywhere after shutting your eyes.

every time you try to think about something else, your mind slips back to him, despite being exhausted. you turn onto your side, pulling the blanket up even though you’re not even cold. the concert noise fades in your memory.

your thoughts slow down, one by one, finally. the room around you gets softer at the edges. eventually, your grip on the blanket loosens without you noticing.

right before you fully drift off, there’s one last strange, quiet image that slips through your mind.

it's similar to falling snow behind your eyes.

snow falls quietly onto dark stone next to you.

"is it really that time of the year already, joo-mi?" you ask, reaching your hand out to let more snow fall onto the palm of your hand.

your servant, joo-mi, stands next to you, nodding her head. "i believe so, my lady."

"it's colder than i remember. compared to last year, at least." you mumble, watching how the flakes of snow dissolve on your skin.

you curl your fingers slightly, as if you might be able to hold onto the winter itself. the courtyard is empty at this late hour apart from you and joo-mi. oh, and the singular guard standing at the entrance.

shifting beside you, joo-mi lowers her gaze respectfully. "winter has arrived earlier, my lady. the elders mentioned that it would be a long one."

you hum softly in response, though your attention is already elsewhere. the mountains beyond the perimeters of the estate.

you stare at them for a moment longer than you mean to.

there is something about them tonight. something that draws you in. anywhere away from this place would do you justice, honestly. you were extremely bored.

and unfortunately expected to be wed to a noble boy by the end of this year. gross.

a gust of wind moves through the courtyard, brushing cold against your cheeks.

joo-mi shifts closer instinctively. “my lady, shall we return inside? the wind is growing harsher. i don't want you to grow ill."

you don’t answer her question, gaze drifting across the courtyard. specifically, back to the guard at the front gate, half-shadowed beneath the light.

"joo-mi, why is there only one tonight?" you look up at her, eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. the guard doesn't look familiar anyway. he was young, you could tell by his stature. it wasn't the usual older guard that took the night shift, and there was meant to be two.

joo-mi follows your gaze again, hesitating for only a moment before answering. “i believe one of the guards fell ill earlier today, my lady. the replacement was assigned on short notice.”

you turn your head back, uncaring. "i want to go back inside now."

joo-mi bows her head immediately. “of course, my lady.”

she steps forward at once, adjusting her pace to yours as you begin to turn away from the courtyard.

the cold bites at your skin for one last moment before the warmth of the estate corridors begins to surround you instead. joo-mi follows behind closely, blowing out the candle she was previously using when the two of you were outside.

joo-mi escorts you to your room, opening the door for you. you thank her.

"my lady, you have a long day tomorrow. you should rest well tonight."

you step into your room, the door sliding shut behind you with a soft thud that echoes through the hallways. the warmth inside your room is immediate.

“of course,” you reply quietly, voice muffled. you walk in further, slipping out of your outer layer. "you should rest as well, joo-mi."

"yes, my lady. good night." her footsteps slowly retreat down the slim hallway, footsteps pattering against the wood.

you sit at the edge of your bed for a moment, hands resting loosely in your lap. you weren't tired at all, unfortunately. but, you required an escort everywhere in this estate - per your father's requests.

you had no choice but to fall asleep. there was nothing else to do, after all. every single novel sitting on the shelf beside you had been read, along with every puzzle. you truly were bored.

eventually, you lie back, pulling the blanket over you. the fabric is warm, making you feel sleepier.

the lantern light from earlier has long since dimmed, leaving the room in a soft, peaceful ambience. apart from the sound of the harsh wind from outside.

your breathing slows without you noticing.

your eyes drift toward the ceiling, before shutting on reflex and falling asleep.

the next morning you awake to soft knocks on your door, tapping once.

then again, a little more carefully. “my lady?” joo-mi’s voice filters through the wood, familiar and steady.

light spills faintly through the edges of your curtains, revealing the morning sun before you can even open your eyes properly.

"you can come in," you say, mid yawn, stretching your arms up into the air.

there's a brief pause before your door slides open, but when it does, joo-mi is on the other side. joo-mi steps in quietly, already composed, her hands folded in front of her as she keeps her gaze respectfully lowered.

"did you sleep well, my lady?" she smiles softly at you, which reminds you of her age. she was only a few years your senior.

you’re still half-lost in sleep as you sit up, hair slightly disheveled, blinking at the brightness leaking through the curtains. you cling to the warmth of the blankets.

"i think so." you mumble, stretching your arms again before letting them drop lazily into your lap.

joo-mi moves further into the room, already beginning her routine without needing instruction, picking up your garments from yesterday and folding them. she folds out each crease with care, before replacing those garments with new ones for you today.

"are you excited for today, my lady?" joo-mi asks from behind you, tone cheerful. "you'll be going out town."

you were excited at first when you heard the news, but when you found out your father was practically sending an entire army to supervise you, your feelings on it dulled.

but now, the word feels slightly dull on your tongue as you speak them. "sure."

joo-mi continues folding your garments with calm efficiency, laying out today’s clothing with care before turning back toward you.

“you seemed pleased when you were told,” she adds, glancing at you over her shoulder. “it is the market district, is it not? there will be many new sights.”

market district? there wasn't much you were interested in, to be honest. you weren't the most outgoing.

"yes.." you say slowly, coming out quieter than initially intended. your fingers tug slightly at the edge of the blanket, resisting the urge to pull them back over yourself.

it should be exciting.

it is exciting.

but you can barely bring yourself to care. you look at joo-mi, "do you think father would let me skip this today?"

joo-mi looks at you, not expecting the question as her hands pausing mid-fold.

“my lady…” she begins carefully, as if choosing each word to avoid sounding like a reprimand. “your father has been preparing for this trip for some time. i don't think he would be happy...if it were to be postponed.

but you already knew that.

joo-mi he sets your garments down neatly before stepping closer, her tone softening again. “is something troubling you this morning?”

the question lingers in the air.

you open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out immediately. because there isn’t a clear reason, nothing you can point to and name properly.

"no, there isn't, joo-mi." you reassure, "i'll go. can i change now?" you ask her, standing up, shuffling the bedsheets off your lower half.

joo-mi relaxes slightly at your response, the tension in her expression smoothing back into its usual calm composure. “of course, my lady,” she says gently. “i'll start preparing your bath."

she bows her head and steps toward the door, pausing only long enough to glance back once more, before slipping out and closing it softly behind her.

you stand, stretching once more as the last remnants of sleep finally leave your body. the bed creaks softly as you move away from it, the warmth of the blankets already fading behind you.

then there’s a soft knock.

“come in,” you say.

the door slides open, and joo-mi appears once more, her hands neatly folded in front of her.

“my lady,” she says gently, “your bath is ready for you.” you nod once at her words, still lost in the lingering haze of sleep.

you follow her down the cold hallway, a familiar path to your private bathroom. joo-mi opens the door for you, revealing a steaming hot bath. the warmth spills out into the hallway the moment the door opens, contrasting the air behind you.

steam curls lazily into the corridor. the bath inside has been prepared as you like it.

joo-mi steps aside respectfully, keeping her gaze lowered. “my lady, I will be just outside if you need anything.” she bows, before stepping out of the room and leaving.

the sound of the latch clicks softly, and you are alone. you move closer to the bath slowly.

you take off your garments, before taking a step into the water, sinking your entire body in shortly after. the warm water ripples around you, surrounding your entire body - practically easing your muscles after only a minute of being submerged.

you sink in a little deeper as the steam around you rises, relaxing your body without your permission. you stay in that bath for around twenty minutes, simply basking in the warm water.

stepping out, you wrap a towel around yourself, calling for joo-mi. "joo-mi, can i have my clothes?"

she pushes the door to the side gently, draping you in something that resembles an overcoat, temporarily shielding you from the cold. nobody was allowed to enter your chambers anyway, so she escorts you back to your room.

upon entering, she reaches for your clothing that she had previously laid out, before coming behind you and helping you change into them.

joo-mi moves behind you with quiet efficiency, her hands careful as she helps you out of the bath wrap and into the layers she had prepared earlier.

you stand still, letting her work.

it's a smooth and easy process, as always. both you and joo-mi had gotten used to this already, it was a daily routine after all.

she takes a step back after she finishes, admiring you and her work. all your sleeves were aligned properly, as well as your folds being smoothed down. "my lady," she gasps quietly, "you look so beautiful, especially today."

her words bring a small smile to your lips, "thank you, joo-mi. you're the reason for that."

a light pink dusts her cheeks, "thank you, my lady - but i only played a small role. i only ensure what is already there is brought out properly,” she adds more softly, smoothing the front of her sleeves out of habit. “you have always been beautiful, my lady.”

joo-mi steps back slightly, then reaches for the last piece of your outer layer, holding it up for you to slip into. you do exactly that, and she smooths out the final layer.

joo-mi gently tugs at the fabric, ensuring that it's fitted perfectly as you outstretch your arms. "i'm done, my lady. are you ready to step out? the carriage should be ready for us."

you let your arms fall back to your sides, nodding as you slip your shoes on. "if i must. let's go."

joo-mi opens the door for you, sliding it once again. the rhythm of your footsteps blends softly with Joo-mi’s as you move through the corridor.

joo-mi walks just half a step behind you, as always, careful not to overtake or fall too far back.

“the carriage is waiting at the front gate,” she says gently. “your father has already left instructions for your escort.”

you hum faintly in response, gaze forward, "you are coming with me today, right?" you ask her, double checking.

"yes, my lady. i should be accompanying you today. i wasn't made aware of any change of plans." joo-mi says, walking down onto the footpath with you.

servants pass in the opposite direction occasionally, bowing quickly as you go by.

as you near the entrance hall, you slow slightly without meaning to, you can see the carriage from here now.

joo-mi notices immediately. “my lady?”

you blink once, then continue walking. “It’s nothing.” but the hesitance in your step tells her everything. your eyes linger ahead for just a moment longer than necessary, you see a lot of people you don't know surrounding the gate.

behind you, joo-mi’s steps remain steady, but her voice softens slightly when she speaks again.

“it will be a busy day,” she says. “but I will be with you.” she reassures. you continue walking forwards, catching the attention of the servants preparing the carriage.

there’s a brief shift in movement as they straighten, bowing as you approach.

the air outside brushes against your skin, a servant lowers his head. “my lady.” you acknowledge it lightly.

one of them quickly moves to open the carriage door properly, while another steps aside to clear your path. you thank him quietly, taking the hand he offered to you to step into the carriage.

you don't recognise any of the guards accompanying you today, unfortunately. joo-mi steps in afterwards, sitting across from you.

outside, the courtyard continues with it's movement, guards taking their positions, as well as double checking the horses.

a few minutes pass, and you finally feel the carriage moving. you peer slightly outside, seeing the front gates to the estate opening.

as the carriage begins to move, joo-mi continues speaking, pointing out small things about your journey, like the scenery. you nod, engaging in conversation with her.

the market should be around an hours drive on a carriage, so around ten minutes you decide to just take a small nap. you were pretty tired anyway, despite only having woken up a short while ago.'

after it feels like you've only shut your eyes for five minutes when joo-mi calls out for you. "my lady?" she asks softly, "we're nearly there."

you wink an eye open, sitting up as you smooth yourself over. "thank you," you mumble, covering your mouth with your palm as you yawn.

you sit in silence, your arm sitting atop your stomach as you lean into the chair behind you. pushing the curtain back with your other hand, you look around, seeing the bustling markets.

the sound hits you first, plenty of voice overlapping, as well as vendors calling out to customers. an uncomfortable feeling sits at the bottom of your topic.

your chest tightens faintly, though you don’t understand why. the carriage rolls forward again before the thought can settle properly.

you swallow once more, as your gaze tracks across it all without really landing anywhere for too long. too many faces, too many directions, too many things happening at once to properly follow.

you feel very aware of your body all of the sudden. joo-mi speaks softly across from you, but you only catch part of it, she's saying something about the market being way busier than expected.

you sit back slightly, letting the curtain fall a little more into place as you nod, like you're on auto-pilot. the carriage comes to a stop, and around thirty seconds after the door opens.

your fingernails dig into your palms unknowingly, making you bleed. joo-mi looks at you, not noticing the injury but just the tense expression on your face. "are you alright, my lady?"

snapping your head back to her, "i'm fine, yes. you can go out first." joo-mi looks at you like you're insane. you were a higher status, that meant you were meant to exit the carriage first.

"are you sure, my lady? it's against the rules-" joo-mi asks, unsure. you cut her off, "i insist."

joo-mi hesitates for only a second longer, then bows her head and steps down carefully from the carriage.

you take a deep breath. you remain seated for a moment longer, your hand is still curled tightly in your lap, though you don’t register the sting properly until the air shifts again.

a shadow falls near the carriage step. it isn't large enough to beg for attention, but it defiinitely catches yours.

a guard stands there. he's young and composed.

his uniform is simple, outer guard markings visible but unadorned. he doesn’t speak at first.

he’s looking at you, offering a small smile as he bows in your direction. he extends a hand, “allow me, my lady,” he says.

you stare at his hand, which stays steady, palm open, waiting without pressure. you stand up after contemplating for a few seconds, placing your hand in his.

his grip is careful, firm enough to support you, light enough not to feel so restrictive. he helps you step down from the carriage.

when your feet meet the ground, he releases you immediately, stepping back into proper distance as if nothing more than protocol has occurred. “thank you, my lady,” he says, lowering his gaze respectfully.

he bows again, making you nod in acknowledgement. "..thank you." you speak quietly, walking over to joo-mi.

you can feel eyes on you from everywhere. it wasn't everyday that a member of a noble family attended a marketplace. you felt bashful under all their gazes.

people glance as you pass, some quick, some lingering just a little too long before they remember themselves and look away. it makes your shoulders tighten without permission, your posture subtly shifting as you try to make yourself feel smaller.

joo-mi notices, stepping half a pace closer so she can speak without anyone else hearing.

“this way, my lady,” she guides gently. “the main stalls are just ahead. It will be less crowded there

joo-mi offers you a smile, you return it partially. "what was that guard's name?" you ask, referring to the one that had helped you down from the carriage.

joo-mi blinks slightly at the question, as if she hadn’t expected your attention to linger there. “the guard?” she repeats softly, glancing over her shoulder in the direction you came from.

the young man is already stepping back into position near the carriage. you turn your head, and he's already looking - flashing you a smile. you turn back.

“i believe he is one of the newer outer guards assigned to the rotation,” she says thoughtfully. “he was brought in recently, so i haven't heard his name often. but," she trails off, "i think his name is lee heeseung."

you nod in acknowledgement, before walking off in the direction of a stall you deem as interesting enough.

the stall is crowded with fabric and jewellery, you think some of it looks pretty. joo-mi follows close behind as you stop in front of it, the merchant immediately straightening up at the sight of your clothing.

"my lady," he greets, bowing in front of you. "please, take your time looking."

you nod politely, already shifting your gaze down toward the display in front of you. there are strings of beads, along with other accessories such as embroidered scarves and such.

joo-mi points to one of the scarves of your favourite colour, “my lady, this would look beautiful on you.” she reaches over, lifting a ribbon between her fingers.

glancing at the ribbon briefly, you hum in agreement. "do you think i should take it?"

joo-mi nods, looking down in respect. "if you wish to, my lady."

you wave your hand, turning back to the merchant. "i would like one of these." you gesture to the ribbon in joo-mi's hands, and he nods immediately.

the merchant bows quickly, almost relieved at your decision. “of course, my lady. i will wrap it immediately.”

he reaches under the counter, retrieving another ribbon of the same colour. he lays it neatly on a small cloth before beginning to fold it with practiced precision.

you turn your head away, disinterested in the process. unfortunately for you, your father had asked you to stay out the whole day - besides nightfall, of course.

joo-mi pays for the ribbon using the money pouch given to her by your father. "my lady, would you like me to have these added to your belongings in the carriage?"

you look at her, nodding. "yes."

the merchant ties the ribbon carefully, placing it into a small paper wrapping before sliding it forward. “thank you for your purchase, my lady.”

joo-mi takes it first, holding it securely before turning back to you. she steps closer to you, "we should continue, my lady. the market will only start to get busier."

with a defeated sigh, you nod. "if we must. when will we be able to go back?" you ask her, glancing back at the carriage.

"i'm sure we can leave when you would like, my lady." joo-mi responds softly.

you glance back toward the carriage again. it sits a little further down the street now, partially visible between moving bodies and stalls. the guards remain stationed around.

the idea of already returning feels like a waste.

you begin walking, joo-mi trails after you. she notices your hesitation without commenting on it. instead, she adjusts her pace to match yours as you start walking again.

“we do not need to stay long,” she adds softly. “just enough for you to see what you wish. your father only asked that you are properly escorted and return before evening."

you nod, humming.

"joo-mi, do you want anything from these stalls?" you ask, turning to her. the question catches her off guard.

she blinks once, clearly not expecting the question at all.

for a moment, she actually hesitates, before quickly lowering her gaze.

“my lady…i am not here to purchase anything,” she says gently, as if reminding both you and herself of her position.

you keep walking, watching her for a reaction.

joo-mi adjusts her sleeves slightly, composing herself again. “if you are asking out of kindness, then i am grateful."

she pauses again, "but i do not need anything."

eyes forward, you hum. "that isn't what i asked, joo-mi.

“my lady,” she says carefully, “your visit is for you. It is not necessary for me to-"

the look that you give her makes her pause, cheeks heating up. "i suppose i could look around, if you truly wish that."

you nod, "please do. none of this interests me, and i would rather rest at the carriage."

joo-mi nods, "i understand. i'll escort you back, my lady." she guides you through the crowd, subtly choosing paths where you'll avoid the densest parts of the market.

soon, the carriage comes back into view, waiting exactly where you left it. the guards are still stationed in their positions.

"thank you." you look at her once you're standing next to the carriage. she hesitates for a brief moment, as if still unsure whether she’s truly allowed to separate from you in a place like this.

“if you are certain,” she adds softly, “i will not be long.”

one of the guards bows to you, opening the door and allowing you entry to the carriage. "welcome back, my lady."

looking back at joo-mi, you give a small, dismissive wave of your hand. “go.”

that seems to reassure her.

joo-mi straightens, composing herself again into her usual calm composure. “i will remain within sight. if you need anything, call for me immediately.”

you nod once in response. she bows, then steps away into the market.

the guard shuts the door, and you sit in there peacefully. the outside noise dulls immediately, and you sigh in relief.

there's a knock on the door, soft. as if whoever is outside is waiting for permission rather than demanding attention.

a masculine voice follows, lowered slightly just loud enough for you to hear. “my lady.”

you don't recognise it immediately, but you sit up.

"you can open the door." a few seconds after, the door is slid open softly.

you blink when you realise it's the same guard from before, lee heeseung.

you take in his face properly this time. his face is gentle in structure, and you would consider him to be handsome. he seems to be somewhere around your age too.

when he speaks again, his voice is steady, but softer than you expect. “my lady,” he says, carefully. “i apologise if i disturbed you. i only wished to ensure you were well.”

you look at him, tilting your head in confusion slightly at his concern, "no, you didn't disturb me."

you pause in thought. joo-mi was going to be a while at the market's, right? you use your chin, gesturing to the seat before you. "come in. i'm bored."

there’s a brief pause outside the carriage. his face contorts into one of confusion, as if he’s double checking whether or not he heard you correctly.

"my lady?" his voice rings again, making you glance back at him. "inside the...carriage?"

"yes," you say simply. "unless that’s a problem."

"no, of course not, my lady." he steps onto the upper platform. once inside, he lowers himself into the space opposite you.

for a moment, neither of you speak.

"close the door, please." you ask softly, leaning back into your seat. he reaches over, shutting the door. the carriage feels smaller with him inside, but not uncomfortable.

he glances briefly toward you, then quickly lowers his gaze again, as if remembering himself.

"i apologise if this is improper," he says quietly. "i'm still on duty."

you look at him, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "i am the one that asked you to come inside, no?"

a faint pause, "yes, my lady."

that makes you exhale, almost amused.

"then talk to me." you say. "joo-mi’s not here, and i’m not doing anything."

he blinks once at that, before locking eyes with you. it's like he's locked your gaze onto his own, because you're unable to pull away.

heat crawls slowly through your body, it starts low in your chest, feeling strange. you sit up, re-adjusting your body.

"talk?" he repeats, like he’s making sure he understood the request correctly.

"yes," you confirm. "anything. i don’t care."

he shifts in his seat, thinking. "most of my days are unevenful, my lady. i'm not sure what you'd like to hear."

you tilt your head. "then tell me uneventful things."

when he doesn't respond, flustered, you scoff. you lean forward, pointing to his hand - where there is clear injury. it looks like the palm of his hand was sliced open by something.

"tell me what happened to your hand. i want to know." his attention drops instantly to where you’re pointing. then he reacts subtly, almost too late. he curls his fingers slightly as if to hide it, but stopping before he fully closes his hand. the injury is still visible. a clean, uneven cut across his palm, recently dressed but already faintly stained through the edge of the wrapping.

"it's nothing serious, my lady." he starts, voice careful and even. "just apart of my duties."

"what part of your duties requires you to have bleeding hands?" you look at him, raising an eyebrow.

"my duties involve assisting wherever needed," he says after a moment, voice steady. “not all tasks will be predictable. the crate was heavier than expected. i misjudged it when securing the corner."

"you mean to tell me that a crate cut you open like a fish?" you blink, seeing through his lie.

you hold out your hand, "give me your hand." he hesitates for only a fraction of a second, just enough to register that you’re actually serious, before carefully shifting his injured hand forward.

he places it in your open palm.

up close, the cut is clearer. not deep enough to be life-threatening, but enough to sting sharply. the dressing around it is already slightly worn at the edges, clearly not tended to properly.

"this was clearly done by a knife." you look at him, running a finger gently over the wound. he flinches, and you notice.

you press down harder, and a small whimper leaves his lips. his shoulders stiffen, his jaw clenches tightly.

"my lady," he says quietly, "it hurts when you do that.."

you hum, smoothing your finger up and down the bandage. "but," you look up at him, "you like that, don't you?"

he doesn’t pull away, but his fingers tense in your hold, like he’s forcing himself not to react more.

"i asked you a question." you say, catching his attention once again.

he looks up at you, and that same fire burns through your lower abdomen now. "i am not sure how to respond to that, my lady." he admits bashfully.

"with honesty," you say, dropping his hand from your grasp.

"then yes. it felt nice, coming from you my lady." there’s no playfulness in his tone.

you blink in surprise that he was actually honest. you hum softly, leaning back in your seat.

the heat in your body is bothering you now. it's too strong to ignore, like someone struck a match beneath your ribs and let the flame burn.

"..are you permanently assigned to me?" you ask, turning back to him.

the question seems to catch him slightly off guard. he straightens a little, as if adjusting back into duty.

“i am assigned to the outer escort rotation for your household,” he answers carefully. “so, not permanently, my lady. i rotate between posts. but while you are outside the estate, i am your escort."

"who gave you those orders?" you ask him, a small pout forming on your face.

his gaze flickers up for a moment. “…is there a concern, my lady?”

"answer my question first." you nudge his calf with your foot gently.

"…the head of the estate guard rotation," he replies carefully. "the order came through your household steward, under your father’s direction."

"ignore them." you wave your hand dismissively. "i want you on my rotation. you are staying with me."

it looks like he genuinely doesn’t process the words properly.

he nearly chokes, "pardon me, my lady?" he doesn't believe he heard you correctly.

his gaze flickers up briefly, then away again. "do you mean… during today’s escort duty?"

"i want you to escort me everywhere, anytime i want." you speak softly, resting your chin on your hand. “not random guards i don’t know.”

"…that is not a simple request," he says carefully. his posture straightens slightly.

"escort assignments are rotated to prevent overexposure and maintain security protocol."

you barely process his words, "i don't care. you're on my team from now on."

"..my lady," he says carefully, "that is not something I can decide." for a second, he looks genuinely uncertain how to respond without overstepping or possibly offending you.

glancing back at him, you notice the fear on his face. "oh, relax. if it makes you feel any better, i'll ask my father about it."

"…if your father approves a reassignment," he says slowly, "then I will follow the order given."

his eyes lift briefly to yours. "however, escort rotations are handled for security reasons. consistency with a single guard is not usually recommended."

he hesitates, before speaking softly again, "that said… I will not refuse a direct instruction if it is officially issued."

"it's officially issued by me that you are with me from now on." you reply quickly, sitting up.

"may I ask what makes you certain about this decision, my lady?" he asks.

"you entertain me." you admit honestly. "what's your name?" you weren't one hundred percent sure if joo-mi even had the correct name.

"lee heeseung, my lady." he bows his head in respect.

your gaze drifts back to his face again, and reluctantly, you have to admit it probably influenced your decision a little too.

because unfortunately for you, heeseung is extremely attractive.

but for some reason, you can't stop this insatiable feeling that you got when you first looked heeseung in the eyes. and no, it wasn't just because of his pretty face.

you sigh softly, and heeseung notices the agitation.

"my lady, are you feeling alright?" he asks softly, leaning closer.

you shake your head, "it feels so hot in here," you say, leaning back. you start to fan yourself, "..i feel so hot."

"would you like me to call somebody, my lady?" he asks softly, leaning a bit closer. as soon as he does that, you feel your lower region ache.

"..no." you sit-up, shaking your head. would it be shameful of you to ask a guard to relieve you? it’s definitely a breach of contract somehow, but that was for your father to worry about, not you.

"..come here." you ultimately decide, making space for him next to you.

heeseung obliges, blinking innocently. you almost feel bad for taking advantage of your position.

your cheeks heat up, and they’re about to burn brighter at the request you’re about to make. lowering your voice to a whisper, you speak. "..i want you to touch me."

heeseung’s eyes widen. "did i hear you correctly, my lady? you want me to touch-"

you cut him off immediately, clamping a hand over his big mouth. when you trust him to be silent again, you remove your hand.

"keep it down, will you?" you hiss, sighing. "..you know what, never mind."

you begin to fan yourself again, ignoring him out of embarrassment. after a few seconds, heeseung speaks up again.

"my lady," he starts, but you don’t turn toward him. heeseung calls out for you again, which finally makes you turn your head.

"what?" you glare at him, a soft frown on your lips.

"if you were asking me to relieve you,” he whispers this time, leaning closer. “i’d be willing to oblige you.”

you stare at him for a second, trying not to shy away from his gaze. taking a deep breath, you nod. “..please.”

“do i have permission to touch you, my lady?” you nod instantly, feeling the ache between your legs grow even more.

heeseung’s hands are immediately on yours. one hand slides under your robes to your front, spreading your thighs apart. he cups your pussy possessively.

his fingers are gentle at first, pushing your underwear to the side as he rubs at your folds with feather-light touches. he teases your entrance, circling but not penetrating.

you groan in annoyance at this, making him apologise swiftly, “sorry, my lady.” an apology leaves his lips, yes, but you don't miss the stupid grin on his face as he says it.

your wetness coats his fingers as he continues exploring your folds. “you’re so wet already,” he whispers softly, almost in admiration. it’s embarrassing - the way he's just gawking at the slick connecting his fingers to your cunt.

“can you keep it down?” you whisper back, turning your head away shyly.

“of course, my lady.” he agrees, shuffling closer to you. he lifts your thigh, granting him easier access to your slit. heeseung slip a single finger into you, letting out a quiet groan at the tightness wrapped around his finger.

you bring your hand to your own mouth to conceal your noises. heeseung pumps his finger slowly, revelling in your soft gasps and whimpers despite you attempting to muffle the noises.

a second finger joins the first, stretching you deliciously as he curls them just right - hitting that spongy spot. your toes curl, a louder whimper slipping from your lips.

when his thumb finds your clit, rubbing firm circles, your hand grips onto his wrist, nails digging into his skin.

that doesn’t stop his ministrations, though. heeseung continues to pump his fingers in and out of your sopping heat steadily.

“w-wait,” you whimper out, making him glance up at you. you use your hand to tug at his uniform, pressing your lips against his.

heeseung kisses you back hungrily, tongue delving into your mouth to taste you. he continues to move his fingers in you, redoubling his efforts even.

his thumb flicks over your clit rapidly, making you squeeze your thighs around his wrist. he can’t really move his fingers in and out if you do that, so he opts to curl his fingers inside you, finding that special spot that makes your toes curl.

he swallows a loud moan that definitely would’ve left your lips. when he finally pulls back, you’re both panting hard.

“my lady,” heeseung breathes out, “i can’t pleasure you if you keep shutting me out like this.” he breathes out, referring to the leg lock you currently have his wrist in.

you apologise softly, “i-i’m sorry,” you sputter, “it was just..a lot.” a smirk appears on heeseung’s lips at your words.

“my lady,” he speaks, and you look at him. “may i be granted permission to make you feel as good as you possibly can?”

you stare at him, confused at first. “you want permission to do anything?” heeseung nods at your words.

you’re hesitant, but he seems to know what he’s been doing this whole time. “..fine - i grant you permission."

he withdraws his fingers. heeseung grabs both of your wrists with one hand, holding them against your chest. he backs you further up into the seat, spreading your thighs with his knee.

now that you’re spread out for him, he plunges his fingers back in - making you gasp.

his pace is brutal now, practically fingerblasting you. the way his fingers piston in and out of your dripping pussy create obscene squelches that fill the usual silence of the carriage.

you squirm, thighs shaking the slighest. as a result of trying to silence yourself, you bite your lip so hard it actually starts bleeding. heeseung’s eyes lighten up at that.

heeseung leans in, “keep it down, my lady. otherwise the both of us will get into trouble.” he whispers, lips grazing the side of your ear.

you nod, whimpering softly. “i-i’m, ah- sorry.”

his thumb makes it’s way back to your clit, rubbing harder and firmer circles now. you can’t hold it back, your pussy fluttering around his digits. your stomach tightens, and after a few seconds - the coil releases, and you gush all over his fingers.

heeseung slowly pulls his fingers out as you pant softly, he also releases your wrists.

“did that satisfy you, my lady?” heeseung asks, and you can’t help but notice the cocky tone in his voice. you're still catching your breath though, so you don't care to humble him.

you hum softly, nodding in agreement. “..satisfied? yes, very.”

heeseung pats your robes back down, fixing your clothing for you. you also comb your fingers through your hair, trying to make it look like it did previously.

the atmosphere definitely probably smells like sex, it’s a confined space after all. you sit back, trying to catch your breath.

a knock breaks the moment. the both of you pause.

heeseung straightens immediately, posture resetting into something more formal.

"yes?" you ask softly, a little worried whoever it was at the door could tell what just went down.

"my lady, may i come in?" it was joo-mi.

"you may." you respond sitting back properly.

the latch clicks, and the door opens just enough for her to step inside. she pauses for half a second when she notices heeseung already seated opposite you, then quickly smooths her expression back into composure.

whatever thought flickers across her face is gone almost immediately, replaced with her usual expression.

“my lady,” she greets, bowing her head slightly.

"did you find what you were looking for, joo-mi?"

“yes, my lady,” she answers softly, a smile creeping up onto her face. “the stalls were as expected. i did not require much time. thank you for letting me do that." she bows her head again in appreciation.

her eyes flick briefly toward the space opposite you, just for a moment, not lingering.

“i also ensured your purchase was added safely to the carriage,” she adds, referring to the ribbon.

heeseung begins to move as if to stand, but joo-mi lightly raises a hand.

“stay seated,” she says politely, not unkindly. “there is no need to adjust for me."

"no, joo-mi, you can have your seat back." you correct. you look at heeseung, "you may leave. thank you for your time."

“understood, my lady,” he says at once. he stands, bowing his head. careful not to bump anything in the confined space of the carriage, his posture resets as he steps out of the carriage.

joo-mi glances toward you, a small teasing smirk on her face. it’s very subtle.

you notice it though. “what?” you ask immediately, eyes narrowing slightly.

“nothing, my lady.” she replies quickly, patting down the fabric of her sleeves in an attempt to smooth it out.

you stare at her, meanwhile she avoids your gaze. that lasts for around two seconds before she eventually loses composure, and ultimately makes eye contact with you.

“you seemed rather interested in that guard.” she says lightly.

you blink once. “i was just speaking with him.”

“yes,” joo-mi agrees, nodding her head. “for some amount of time.”

“there was nothing else for me to do while waiting.”

she hums, straightening her lips. the sound itself is enough to make your expression flatten.

joo-mi lowers her gaze politely again, though her small grin never disappears.

“he is very handsome,” she adds after a moment.

you immediately look away toward the carriage curtains, out the window. “that had nothing to do with it.”

“..of course, my lady.” joo-mi agrees out of respect, despite seeing through your lie.

outside, the faint sound of guards shifting into position can be heard.

“we will be departing shortly, my lady,” she says gently, and you nod.

“are we going back to the estate?” you ask, unsure of what you’re even doing next.

“we can go wherever you’d like, my lady.” joo-mi says, reaching for the handle of the door. “would you like me to ask the guards to take us elsewhere?”

"no." you shake your head, "i want to go back home, please."

joo-mi pauses for a split second, but nods anyway. "of course, my lady." there’s no disappointment in her voice or an attempt to persuade you otherwise.

she slides the carriage door open slightly and relays the instruction to the guards outside.

“we will return to the estate.” voices from outside respond to her in acknowledgment.

movement outside the carriage begins. through the small opening of the carriage window, you briefly catch sight of heeseung again near the escort line. snow catches faintly in his dark hair before melting almost immediately.

joo-mi reaches for the carriage door, closing it once more. inside, warmth settles around you again, quieter now than before.

joo-mi sits across from you, studying your expression carefully before speaking.

“was the market too much today?” she asks gently.

you stare at your hands for a second before answering. "a little, yes."

she nods like she already knew. “then going home is the right choice.”

outside, the carriage finally begins moving again. you sit back in your chair, shutting your eyes. your breathing gradually slows with the movement of the carriage.

the next moment, or it feels as though, you awaken. joo-mi is calling out for you, “my lady,” joo-mi says gently. “we’re back.”

your eyes open slowly. for a second, everything feels blurred together, but you blink, once, twice - and it's clearer.

you straighten slightly in your seat, rubbing at one eye tiredly.

“…already?” your voice comes out softer than intended, still heavy with sleep.

“you slept through most of the journey home, my lady.”

you glance briefly toward the curtained window beside you. it’s darker outside now than before, evening fully settled over the estate grounds.

"how is it already evening? we left early morning, no?" for some reason, your chest feels oddly light. you take another look, genuinely perplexed.

joo-mi pauses at that. “…we did.”

you pull the curtain aside slightly, staring out at the estate grounds again. lanterns have already been lit along the pathways, their warm glow reflects against the snow.

your confusion deepens. the market trip hadn’t felt long enough for this and neither had the ride home. you glance back toward joo-mi. “how long was i asleep?”

she blinks, then slowly looks toward the carriage window herself, as though only now properly registering the darkness outside. “…i’m not certain,” she admits quietly.

you kind of just stare at her, before letting your shoulders loosen in carelessness. whatever.

the thing is, joo-mi is always certain. always aware of time, schedules, routes. but now even she looks unsettled, gaze lingering toward the evening sky outside the carriage. “it should not be this late,” she says after a moment, mumbling to herself more than to you.

the carriage door opens, a different guard stands outside this time, one you vaguely recognize from the estate grounds but not by name. "my lady," he says respectfully, extending a hand out to you. "we have arrived back at the estate."

you take his hand, stepping down from the platform. "tell me, how is it night already?" you ask the guard, making him furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

"you have been out of the estate the whole day, my lady." he responds casually. that makes you pause mid-step, your grip loosens slightly as you look up at him, perplexed.

you glance around once instinctively, everything feels strangely quiet. all of the guards that had originally come with you were surrounding the carriage, preparing for it to be put away, but heeseung was nowhere to be seen.

"hm." you hum, letting go of the guard's hand. "thank you."

“of course, my lady,” he replies, dipping his head in acknowledgement.

but your memory doesn’t feel like a full day, it feels put together, like it was fake or something, maybe.

joo-mi steps closer behind you, noticing your expression immediately. “my lady?” she asks softly. “are you feeling unwell again?”

the guard shifts his stance slightly, attentive now but not alarmed.

you blink once, then slowly shake your head. "no,” you say, though it comes out uncertain even to your own ears. "i'm fine. i would like to return to my quarters, please."

this was strange. there was no way it would've cost you the entire day to ride to the market, spend some time there, and return. you should've had the entire afternoon and more left, so why was nobody questioning it?

behind you, joo-mi steps closer, falling naturally into pace as you begin walking toward the estate doors.

“shall I prepare warm water for you again?” she asks gently, as if nothing about the day was unusual at all.

as the doors of the estate open ahead of you, you shake your head. "yes, please."

joo-mi nods her head in acknowledgment, walking down the empty hallway with you. she escorts you to your room, she pauses, bowing her head slightly. “i will return shortly with your bath,” she says.

you nod, already half distracted, fingers intertwining with each other as if to calm yourself. “thank you.”

joo-mi walks off, and you take a seat on one of the chairs near the window, letting your hands rest in your lap.

you sort of daze off until she comes back.

being a noblewoman was boring in a way that never really changed. always waiting, always being prepared for something that never quite felt like it belonged to you.

there was nothing for you to do except sit, behave, and eventually be married off into another household that would decide your next set of rules for you. there was nothing you were allowed to do alone, either.

your father had noticed. he tried to entertain you in your own way, but you assumed it was hard considering there was nobody around your age within the estate aside from joo-mi. your father wouldn't allow for it. it was a surprise that he was agreeing to marry you off this year, but he probably deemed you as old enough.

she was kind and familiar, but still part of the structure of your life, not outside it. there wasn’t really anyone who felt like they existed in your world without purpose or permission. joo-mi wasn't there because she enjoyed your company, she was there because she had to be.

you barely saw your father either, and your mother was dead. it didn't hurt much to think about now, it was many years ago.

your father never moved on, though. he never really let you drift too far from his grasp. after the death of your mother, something in him must have tightened

you let out a small breath, leaning back slightly in your chair. boring wasn’t even the right word anymore. it honestly felt like you were already dead, but unluckily in hell. your punishment was eternal boredom.

a soft knock catches your attention, and you turn toward the door.

"my lady?" joo-mi calls quietly, "your bath is ready. may i come in?"

you blink once, "come in."

the door opens almost immediately.

joo-mi steps inside, “i’ve prepared it at the temperature you prefer,” she says gently.

you nod, standing up from where you're sat.

joo-mi hesitates for just a moment before speaking again, her voice softer now. "you seem tired, my lady. would you like me to stay nearby you while you bathe?"

"no, thank you, joo-mi." you politely decline as she closes the door to your room behind you. "i'd prefer if i was alone."

joo-mi nods, escorting you to the bathroom, she opens the door for you. "It's ready for you, my lady."

joo-mi remains behind you, hands folded. “i will be just outside if you need anything,” she adds softly.

you nod at her words, before walking in and shutting the door behind you.

you exhale slowly, slipping off the outer material of your gown. you're about to take off the next layer of clothing as well, but you pause.

your mind backtracks to what you thought about earlier, and you didn't want to marry some random man.

your left foot touches the water, then your right follows, sinking in slowly until you’re ankle deep in the bath.

the idea of marriage lingers again at the back of your mind. it's not like getting married would make you any happier. if anything, it would make you feel worse. it makes your gut feel weird. like the concept of a life like that belongs to another version of you that isn’t standing here right now.

the water rises as you lower yourself into the bath, still fully clothed. the fabric clings to your skin as it absorbs the hot water. you settle in until you’re fully seated.

if you disappeared, then you wouldn't be obligated to do anything your father asked you of.

plus, it's not like he'd even notice if his daughter was gone or not. despite living within the same estate, massive or not, you only saw him once a few months.

and even then, the conversations between the two of you are brief, structured, and formal. like a meeting arranged between obligations rather than a father and daughter talking.

you sink further in, water up to your collarbones now.

you thought of joo-mi. maybe she would be sad if you were to leave her, but she would get over it ultimately. the two of you weren't friends, she was an employee to your father.

the bath remains still around you, only small ripples forming when you shift slightly. your thoughts don’t feel loud anymore.

they feel… flat.

there's no substance behind them, they don't feel real. you don't even notice yourself sinking further into the water, the hot steam coming from it applying warm pressure onto your face.

it reaches your jaw, then your lips, which you clamp shut. then your nose, and you stop inhaling.

you shut your eyes too when the water comes up high enough. before you know it, you're fully submerged in it, drowning peacefully.

you think it's peaceful at least, till it's not.

your lungs start to burn, hurting your insides like an uncontrolled fire. on instinct, you straighten quickly, pulling yourself more upright in the bath and lifting your face fully above the water, coughing and sputtering.

your hands press lightly against the edge of the tub for stability.

joo-mi's voice rings from outside, alarmed. "my lady, are you alright in there?"

you don't look up, eyes forward on the water before you. tears start to leak from those same eyes. "..i'm fine, thank you." your voice comes out steadier than you thought it would, to be honest.

on the other side of the door, you hear her shift closer. “are you sure?” she asks again, more carefully this time. she isn't pressuring you into answering, but she doesn't sound convinced.

"yes, i'm fine." you feel more tears streaming down your cheeks. "please leave. i want to be completely alone."

joo-mi speaks again, quieter than before. “..as you wish, my lady.” you hear her foot steps retreating down the hallway, echoing.

your eyes sting before you even fully register it, and it isn't because of the bath water entering them. you shut your eyes, trying to force it away. you stay still, hands remaining braced against the bath’s edge until your breathing begins to settle again, hiccuping softly.

there's footsteps approaching, but you don't register it, even though it sounds like they're already in the same room as you.

then, a light brush of fingers moving the hair stuck to your face. that makes you blink wide open, meeting familiar eyes.

it's heeseung, the guard from earlier, crouching before you. he wasn't supposed to or allowed to be here. you flinch back instinctively.

he pulls his fingers back too, his expression blank. but he doesn't look the same, something about his face is off.

"why are you crying, pretty girl?" he speaks, tone way more mature than when you had previously spoken to him. your throat tightens before you can answer.

heeseung tilts his head slightly, studying you when you don't answer. "is it your father again?" he reaches forward again, hand cupping the side of your face, thumb stroking your cheekbones gently.

"what..? what are you talking about?" you don't bother moving back this time, simply letting him touch you. you didn't care enough at this point. it all felt like a dream, anyway.

"you know what i'm talking about." he says your name after, whispering it softly. he drops his hand from your face. his hand lowers to his side, fingers flexing once like he’s resisting the urge to reach for you again.

"do you want me to kill him?"

the words don’t even settle properly before your face twists in disbelief.

your eyebrows furrow, and you look up at him like he's insane, which he must be for threatening to kill a nobleman.

"have you gone insane?" it comes out sharper than you meant it to, but it fits the way your chest is suddenly tight again. this time not from crying, but from the genuine shock you felt from his words.

heeseung doesn’t react the way you expect. there is no denial, or embarrassment, or any hint of backtracking his words. instead, his gaze is steady on you, face unreadable.

"no. what makes you think that?" his words make you lean back further into the bath away from him. suddenly you regret sending joo-mi off.

heeseung sighs, still crouched before you. "don't look at me like that, god." he clenches his teeth, and that's when you see the sharp fang.

he isn't normal, he isn't a human.

for a second, everything goes too still. even the water feels like it’s stopped moving around you.

heeseung notices immediately. he exhales through his nose, slower this time. his jaw loosens, but the damage is already done

your breath catches so hard it hurts. your eyes widen, and you try pull yourself out of the water. you've barely made it anywhere before your slammed onto the floor chest first with supernatural strength, upper body out of the water but your lower half is not.

a pained whimper leaves your lips, cold tile presses against your cheek, wet hair sticking to your skin. it was painful and overstimulating.

“hey.” his voice is different now, deeper. he sounds annoyed, almost. "stop moving."

you stop, stilling your body. the grip he had on your back relents, and he let's go entirely. "why are you doing this to me?" you mumble out, tired.

in the small amount of time he had you pinned down, it felt like you were about to die, and you already concluded you wouldn't have even minded at this point.

"i'm not doing this to you." his gaze drops to your body, clothes tightly clung to your frame. "you panicked. i just didn't want you to hurt yourself."

you deem it safe enough to turn, sitting up on your rear. "i meant, why are you here, doing this to me?" you use your hands to gesture to everything.

he ignores your question, leaning in again. his fingers touch the damage done to your face from him slamming you down so hard. it was cut slightly, and would definitely bruise.

"don't cry." his thumb wipes at a tear you didn't even know you had. "does it hurt?"

you shake your head, surprising yourself as to why you're so relaxed about this. heeseung shuts his eyes, almost as if he's savouring something.

"i'm sorry, i didn't want to do this so soon." you're about to question him on whatever that means, but he's on you before you can open your mouth.

he leans in, jaw angled to fit your neck. you feel his lips graze, tongue licking a spot on your neck and it tickles. the ticklish feeling is soon over after you feel something sharp sink into your neck, hard and fast.

you nearly scream, but he quickly covers your mouth with the palm of his hand. tears stream down your face from the pain, but he doesn't stop.

he continues sucking, your blood, you presume. the pretty man you wanted as a guard wasn't as innocent as you deemed he was. he was a blood-sucking vampire.

the moment his fangs pierced through your skin, a wave of euphoria is sent right through his body. his throat bobs with each swallow, the sound of him sucking echoing through the quiet room, aside from your pained gasps. the hunger that had been clawing at his insides for centuries started to subside.

heeseung could feel your heartbeat fluttering rapidly. he could hear it too.

your limbs feel weak, especially your hands. they're on his chest and shoulder, trying to push him away but it doesn't work. he grabs one of your wrists, then the other, holding them with his fingers.

your head doesn't feel any better, completely dizzy. you feel as if you're about to pass out, but he pulls away. blood leaks from his perfect lips, he licks at it before it can drip onto the floor. heeseung's hand catches the back of your head before it can fall to the floor.

"you taste so sweet," he reminisces, resisting the urge to go back for seconds. using his hand on the back of your head, he brings you closer to him - licking a stripe up on your open wounds slowly, not letting any go to waste.

"that was payback for earlier in the carriage." you can barely hold eye contact, feeling drained. heeseung notices you about to pass out, but he shakes your head, jolting you back. "no, you can't pass out on me now, baby."

you almost don't catch the pet name, not that you could bring yourself to care anyway. eyes landing on him, they focus.

"who are you..?" you gasp out weakly, slowly regaining your strength.

that small smile appears again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. if anything, it looks like it hurts him to make it at all.

“hmm,” he exhales softly, almost disappointed, but not in you. more so in the situation.

he looks away for a second, jaw tightening as if he’s frustrated. “it's okay, you’re not supposed to remember everything at once anyway,” he adds, softer. “it doesn’t work like that.”

you have zero clue on what he could be talking about, but before you can even ask him, he sighs again.

his face looks like he's contemplating something, chewing his lip before finally settling. he leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "i'll be back for you, don't worry." the way he says your name feels so intimate in the moment, despite it coming from a random man. or well, you thought he was a random man.

heeseung lowers you onto the cold tiles gently, before purposefully knocking a vase to the floor. it echoes through the bathroom, and it's safe to assume it echoes through the hallway enough to be heard from outside.

panicked footsteps come toward the bathroom, and heeseung winks at you, before disappearing in thin air. you gawk.

what the hell just happened?

you barely have anytime to think before joo-mi's voice comes from the other side of the door. "my lady! are you alright in there?"

you don't reply, hoping she'll get the hint to come in and help you, in which she does. "my apologises, my lady, but i have to prioritises your safety." she pushes open the door.

when she sees you laying on the floor, joo-mi immediately rushes over. "my lady!" her hands hover for half a second, before she carefully touches your shoulder, checking you over with precision.

“are you hurt?” she asks quickly, voice controlled but clearly shaken. “can you breathe properly?” her hands push your hair away, in attempt to keep it neat but then her eyes widen.

she sees the two holes in your neck, bite marks.

"oh my god." her hand freezes mid motion in your hair.

then she pulls back slightly, eyes locking onto your neck properly now. the bite marks are unmistakable. joo-mi's expression shifts fast, shock going to alarmed.

"my lady,” she says quickly, helping you upright gently. "don't move. i'll be back soon. you're safe now." she stands.

the door shuts behind her with a decisive click, leaving the bathroom in silence.

the awful sting and dull ache at your neck, pulsing was a simple reminder that what happened wasn’t a dream or panic or confusion.

it was actually real.

your body feels heavy in a different way now. it wasn't just weakness, but exhaustion catching up all at once. the kind that makes even sitting upright feel like effort.

you wanted to go to sleep.

joo-mi returns quickly with your estate's apothecary, as well as your father's steward.

joo-mi returns first, and behind her is the estate’s apothecary. your father’s steward follows close after, his expression immediately hardening the moment he sees the state of you.

“move aside,” the apothecary says quickly, dropping to his knees beside you without hesitation. he looks at your neck, then your face, then your pulse point.

"what happened here?" the steward asks, to which nobody responds.

“bite marks,” the apothecary says simply, already reaching for bandages and a small vial. “they are recent. not deep enough to be fatal, but she’s lost blood.”

“i found her like this,” she says, voice clearly on edge. “someone was in the room.”

the steward’s expression hardens immediately. “no one enters this wing without being cleared, and the guards would have seen them.

the apothecary gently tilts your chin, taking in the severity of your wounding.

suddenly, you feel a harsh pang on the side of your temples. it's sudden enough that your breath catches slightly before you can stop it. you hear voices around you speaking, and a pair of arms catching you before you fall.

shutting your eyes, you feel everything around you blur.

you wake up in your office cubicle, hair sprawled all over. a thin layer of sweat sticks to your neck and forehead, and when you try to move, your head throbs sharply, a dull, lingering ache right behind your temples.

what a weird dream.

the girl in it seemed so familiar though. like her face and the feeling of her presence felt so real.

and not to mention heeseung being in your dream, as some weird, freaked out vampire.

the dream version of him had felt familiar though. familiar in a way that got under your skin. even thinking of him in that concept made your chest tighten.

had you gotten way too deep into the enhypen loophole? should you go get some therapy..? maybe this was the aftermath of going to a concert, or something.

you stare at the black screen of your computer a while longer, trying to recount everything that happened.

“…what the hell,” you mutter under your breath.

it felt so real.

you exhale through your nose, letting it go as you always do when a dream doesn’t make sense to you.

your hand reaches for your neck, where the bite happened. you aren't expecting much, just skin. maybe some sweat from sleeping awkwardly at your desk.

but the moment your fingertips press beneath your jaw, pain flares sharply. you blink, sitting up properly. pulling out your phone, you open up the front camera, angling it toward your neck.

there's nothing. no bite marks, or bruising. it's just your skin.

a breath leaves your lungs shakily, somewhere between relief and embarrassment. “right,” you mutter quietly to yourself. “obviously.”

shrugging it off, you pat your hair down. you stand, stretching your arms. the weirdest part of all of this was that the headache you just had is practically gone. as if it were never there in the first place.

another thing you noticed was that it wasn't typical of you to have dreams midday. it was typically only when you were sleeping through the night.

it was pretty late at night now, and nobody else was at the office aside from a few of your co-workers. the building felt different at this hour.

picking up your items and putting them into your bag, sliding notebooks and loose items into your bag one by one. your mind keeps circling back to the dream.

a voice calling you “my lady." you pause briefly, then zip your bag shut.

no point overthinking it. you stand, shoulders rolling back as you sling the bag over one arm and glance around the office one last time.

you start walking toward the exit, your footsteps echo softly down the corridor, footsteps echoing in the near empty building.

and for a brief second, just as you pass the glass reflection of the hallway windows, it almost feels like you’re not entirely alone like you assumed.

but when you turn your head, there’s nothing there, just your reflection. was your mind playing tricks on you?

okay, you felt weird now. that weird headache was back too, but it was way worse this time.

a sharp pulse comes from behind your temples so suddenly that your vision blurs for a second. you stop walking immediately, one hand catching the edge of the hallway wall before your knees can fully give out beneath you.

that doesn't really help though, because they do give out and the next thing you know, you hit the floor once again. your knees hit first, then your shoulder catches awkwardly against the carpeted floor of the corridor hard enough to force the air from your lungs.

the pain sparks throughout your body, but it’s overtaken immediately by the pounding in your head. what was happening? this was honestly starting to annoy you, all the constant deliriousness and sudden passing out.

another pulse of pain blooms behind your eyes. the tension eases from your body, and your eyes slip shut. the last thing you register before consciousness leaves you entirely is the feeling of someone kneeling beside you.

when you wake up, you're in the infirmary. the first thing you take in is the smell. herbs. the scent is strong enough to sting your nose slightly.

you open your eyes, vision immediately being filled with the sight of a wooden ceiling. your gaze travels downwards, and you notice the heavy blankets laid out on top of you.

you push yourself up too quickly and instantly regret it when dizziness washes through your body. a hand reaches out, steadying you.

“my lady.” it's joo-mi. relief floods her face so fast. "you’re awake,” she breathes out.

she’s kneeling beside the bedding laid out in the infirmary room, hair slightly disheveled, which gives you the impression that she hasn't rested since you passed out. there are dark circles beneath her eyes now you don’t remember being there before.

joo-mi's here but even your own father isn't. typical.

"joo-mi," you sit up, slower this time. "what happened..?" your throat feels dry when you speak. "how long have i been out for?"

“you've been out for three days after you collapsed,” she says gently. “the apothecary said the blood loss and shock caused you to pass out."

your fingers reach up, ghosting over where the bite would've been. this time, your fingers come in contact with bandages, making you wince.

joo-mi notices immediately. “my lady,” she says softly, leaning closer. “be careful. the apothecary said not to touch the dressing.”

your hand instinctively flies down, "my apologies."

giving you a reassuring look, joo-mi shakes your head. "it's alright, my lady." she leans down, sitting back down on her knees. "the estate has been secured, so don't worry about anything."

"thank you, joo-mi." you say, genuinely grateful for her concern."

joo-mi’s expression softens immediately at your thanks. “it is my duty to care for you, my lady,” she says quietly. "though, if it is alright with you, may i ask what happened? do you remember your attacker, my lady?"

your eyes snap back to her, "my attacker..?" memories flash back. yeah, you were attacked by a vampire, and he put you into danger but your curiosity took over.

"that wasn’t enough to bring your memory back?"

yes, he hurt you. the bandages around your neck were proof of that.

why had he spoken to you like he already knew you? why did he sound disappointed instead of surprised when you didn’t remember him?

and the worst of all, why did part of you feel like you should?

joo-mi notices your distant expression immediately. “my lady?” she asks softly, concern creeping back into her voice.

you blink, "i don't remember." you admit, looking down at your lap. "how am

her expression softens as she watches you lower your gaze to your lap, "that's alright my lady. are you feeling hungry? your food is ready, i just have to go and get it."

when she mentions it, there is a faint emptiness in your stomach. you nod, "a little."

joo-mi rises from her knees, patting her skirt down, her expression filled with relief. "that's good. the apothecary said you should eat as soon as possible."

then she slides the door open quietly and disappears into the corridor. "i'll be back soon, my lady."

the infirmary falls silent again.

you're sat in bed, staring at the wall in front of you. your body still feels heavy from exhaustion, so you finally exhale and lean back slightly against the bedding. then the candle beside the far wall flickers, and the temperature in the room drops.

a quiet voice breaks the silence from somewhere behind you. "why didn't you tell her the truth?"

your pulse jumps instantly.

when you turn your head, heeseung's standing in the darkened corner as if he's been standing there since forever. his expression is calm as he steps closer toward you.

“how did you—”

“you think the guards can stop me?" heeseung says quietly, his gaze drifts briefly toward the bandages around your neck.

your lips form a small pout, annoyed at heeseung's ego. "fine. why are you here?"

"i wanted to see you." his honesty confuses you. had he not tried to kill you just a few days ago?

it's almost like he read your thoughts. "i know how that sounds," he says quietly, looking back at your neck. "but if I intended to kill you, you wouldn’t be alive right now."

instead, your curiosity returns. “why did you bite me?” you ask, voice flat out of annoyance. heeseung's been avoiding telling you the truth this whole time, and it's irritating.

"i thought that it would help you remember me. it did last time."

your brows knit together immediately, "last time?" you repeat, sharper now. heeseung's expression shifts, hurt washes over his features.

"..you’re not supposed to be remembering it in pieces," he says quietly. "it’s supposed to come back all at once."

he exhales softly, before speaking again.

"and I was trying to make sure you didn’t forget me again." heeseung comes closer to you, but you don't flinch away this time. you believed him when he said he would've killed you if he actually wanted to.

the space between you feels different this time, not dangerous or threatening. heeseung reaches out, cupping your cheek. his touch is surprisingly gentle this time.

'please don't snap my neck.'

that's all you're thinking of at this current moment. heeseung's face contorts into something similar of hurt, even though you never said it out loud. it's like he read your mind or something.

you know, he probably can read your mind. he's a vampire, why wouldn't you think of that? that explains it all, to be honest - how he's been able to recognise how you're feeling constantly.

vampires were controversial anyway.

half the court didn’t even believe they existed anymore, despite their being clear evidence of it such as old records sealed away in restricted archives or unexplained deaths. you always believed they were real, anyway.

your father hated them. a vampire is what took your mother away, after all. the details were never fully explained to you, anyway.

so you grew up with the idea already carved into your mind - that they were real, and they were dangerous, and they were the reason something important in your life had already been taken away. in theory, you should hate him and you should be terrified.

you should've been calling for guards the second he appeared inside this room.

your father would be horrified. the mere idea of you willingly sitting this close to a vampire would probably send him into a fit of rage severe enough for the entire estate to hear.

the thought comes bitterly this time.

because where even was he? you nearly died. your focus snaps back to heeseung, and suddenly the closeness feels too noticeable again. he drops his hand from your face, instead, he shifts and sits down beside you on the edge of the bed.

"so, you really don’t remember me." heeseung says quietly.

you frown immediately. “why do you keep saying that? that isn't giving me much insight."

"because it’s true."

your brows knit together. "i told you already, i don’t know what you’re talking about."

his gaze is unreadable for a second, but then he looks back, locking eyes with you. "in your past life,” he says quietly, "you were mine." your eyes widen.

heeseung's words settle in your stomach, it feels weird. "..yours?" you almost didn't believe it. a presumably centuries old vampire was claiming that you were his wife in your past life, how crazy did that sound? you stare at him, blankly. "you don't actually expect me to believe you, right?"

heeseung scoffs softly and straightens up from where he’d been leaning closer to you.

"i mean," he says dryly, "not really. you were a lot easier to convince last time."

his words make you pause instantly. "last time?" you repeat slowly. then your expression changes. "..how many times has this happened?"

for the first time since entering the infirmary, heeseung goes completely silent. as if he’s debating whether answering honestly is a good idea.

"heeseung, answer me."

his gaze lowers briefly before lifting back to yours again. "..three."

your eyes widen immediately. "three?!" you whisper harshly, breaking composure for the first time. "you’re telling me i've died three times?"

"you've reincarnated three times." he corrects softly.

"that isn't any better."

a faint flicker of amusement almost appears on his face before disappearing just as quickly.

"i mean, you remembered faster the second time," he murmurs, almost to himself.

you stare at him in disbelief. he continues, "but that time, you did throw a vase at my head."

your face scrunches up slightly, ignoring his dig at you. "how have i died three times? have you killed me all three?" you scoff.

heeseung is taken aback by your question, maybe even offended that you'd even assume that. "why would i kill my lover?"

before you can respond, he reaches over. his fingers settle against your forehead. you tense slightly on instinct, but all he does is flick it gently. "silly girl. you really do think the worst of me, hm?"

you feel a little disrespected that he thought he could just do that and get away with it. you were a noblewoman, after all.

something in you reacts immediately, you swat his hand away. "don’t do that." you snap, more offended than frightened now. you straighten slightly in bed, "i'm a noblewoman, you can't just touch me like that."

that earns a slight tilt of his head. "but you let me touch you back in the carriage, hm?" he says teasingly, making your face burn red.

"you still react the same way," heeseung mumbles. it feels weird that he's comparing you to yourself, yet you don't remember being her.

"how did you even manage to find out it was me?" you ask, curious about the whole reincarnation thing. heeseung looks a little surprised at your question. "does that mean you knew the whole time in the carriage? were you the one that manipulated with the time of day?" you continue spouting, making him press a finger to your lips, shutting you up effectively.

your words come faster as you think through it, the questions stacking on top of each other until you barely pause for breath.

"oh, so you noticed the time was off?" heeseung smiles, pulling his finger away.

"how could i not? and answer my other question - how did you know it was me?"

"..you always reincarnate into the same body." he begins quietly. "of course it changes with circumstances - like age, but i can always tell that it's you." heeseung sighs softly, a small smirk creeping up onto his face. "and you always smell the same."

if you were stupid, you definitely would've missed the seductive tone in his voice, making you flinch back slightly. "..that is inappropriate."

"you're my wife, why would it be?" the words land flatly, like it's the easiest thing for him to say.

a small blush covers the apple of your cheeks, making you look away in retaliation. "not in this life," you scoff.

"that can be easily arranged, baby." heeseung says, leaning over, picking your chin up between his fingers - making you look at him.

you wrap your fingers around his wrist, attempting to pull him away but he doesn't relent, making you give up pretty easily. "..there isn't a chance that i would've willingly married a pervert like you."

heeseung smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. instead of responding, he leans in, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, you freeze.

"relax, pretty." heeseung reassures gently, punctuating his words with a slow, deliberate lick along your jugular. the bandages are thin, and you can feel his fangs grazing the sensitive skin without breaking it. your face is beet red at this point, and you're sweating nervously.

he nuzzles further into the crook of your neck, body nearly on top of yours. you're tensed up, but heeseung doesn't care. after all, you're still the same woman he's loved all this time. "you'll let me have another taste, right? i've missed you. you took ages to come back this time around."

heeseung's fingers lightly push at the bandages around your neck when you don't respond, continuing to speak, "i didn't mean for last time to be so rough," he admits, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your neck. "i was just caught up in the moment."

he lifts his head from your neck, making eye contact with you. from this angle, he looked harmless - you had trusted that face once, or at least, something in you reacts like you had.

you take a deep breath, overwhelmed. "will you leave me alone if i let you..?"

"no." heeseung replies back simply, "you're mine again. why would i let you go once more?" his answer makes you scoff.

he leans back in once more, one hand slides down the side of you and rests at your hip, fingers squeezing gently.

"why would you even bother asking if you were just gonna do it anyway?" you mumble in annoyance. heeseung doesn't respond verbally. you can feel his fangs graze across your pulse again, marking exactly where it's gonna hurt. his empty hand grabs the back of your head gently, fingers tangling in your hair.

in one swift motion, he sinks his sharp teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. a soft whimper leaves your lips as you shut your eyes, trying to bear with the pain. you can almost exactly how much blood is leaving your body with each second. his fingers dig into your hip, pulling you closer to him, you shuffle forward with no surrender.

footsteps cut through the corridor outside, fast and urgent. the door slide open sharply.

"my lady!" joo-mi rushes in first, breath caught, eyes instantly locking onto you. relief flashes across her face for half a second before it tightens into panic when she sees heeseung beside you.

right behind her walks in the estate apothecary follows quickly, already holding a prepared medical kit, a guard following closely behind.

and then your father. he stops at the threshold.

for a moment, the entire room is silent. his eyes take in everything at once. you're sitting weakly in bed as heeseung drains the life essence out of you.

heeseung finally pulls away, caring enough to turn back at the audience watching the two of you. you slump back onto the pillows, exhausted.

the air in the room shifts immediately. "..step away from her," your father says, voice low.

joo-mi moves forward quickly, but the guard pulls her back by the arm protectively. the apothecary doesn’t speak, but his grip tightens around his kit in fear.

heeseung, however, doesn’t rush to defend himself, he simply looks at your father, blood dripping out of his mouth, down his chin. a small grin forms onto his face, "i was waiting for you to arrive." heeseung says quietly.

the guard shifts forward half a step, hand near his weapon. "i said to step away." your father speaks again, making heeseung stand, hands up in mock surrender.

your father's eyes narrow at the movement like it still isn’t enough. "..a vampire," he says quietly, like the word itself is offensive.

heeseung doesn't even react, just taking a slow step back from your bed. that only seems to confirm everything in your father's mind.

"you dare stand in my daughter’s room," your father continues, voice tightening with restrained rage, "after what your kind has done to this family?"

heeseung sighs as if talking to these people were a chore.

your father doesn’t look away from heeseung for even a second. "i should have you executed where you stand." he says coldly.

"you could try." heeseung says, tone full of arrogance, which seems to upset your father further. you shut your eyes, barely able to remain conscious at this point.

"you think immortality makes you untouchable?" your father asks, "you're a lowly creature."

heeseung tilts his head slightly, ignoring his insult. "no," he says simply, "but experience does."

heeseung’s eyes drift briefly toward you again, the expression on his face changes. his eyes soften slightly.

before the guard can even draw his weapon, heeseung's gone - just like that.

your father's expression hardens immediately. "search the estate," he orders sharply.

the guard bows, "yes sir." he leaves the room immediately.

joo-mi finally rushes fully to your bedside the second heeseung is gone, kneeling beside you quickly. "my lady, are you hurt?" she asks in a rush, eyes searching over you anxiously.

you barely respond, a small hum leaving your lips.

the apothecary steps forward, examining your form, "please remain still," he says carefully, though his voice sounds slightly shaken.

your father stays where he is, still staring at the empty spot heeseung disappeared from. his gaze shifts over to you, jaw clenched.

"has she been bitten?" your father asks, not bothering to come any closer.

the apothecary hesitates but nods, "yes, she has, my lord."

your father doesn't speak for a moment, but after around thirty seconds he speaks. "call the executioner, now." you barely register his words, but did he really think he had the power to kill heeseung?

both the apothecary and joo-mi snap their heads toward your father. "what? my lord, you don't mean to-"

your father finally looks at you properly now, and something about his expression makes unease crawl beneath your skin. but it isn't grief, or is it relief that you survived.

it's calculation.

"yes, i do." your father interrupts the apothecary. "she's a risk." he finishes coldly.

for a second, you genuinely think you misheard him.

joo-mi looks horrified. "my lord," she says quickly, voice shaking slightly, "the lady was attacked, she is not at fault-"

"you think I don’t know what vampires do?" your father snaps.

silence fills the room immediately afterward. the apothecary's face is as pale as a ghost's.

your father's gaze remains fixed on you now, unwavering. "if he fed from her," he says, each word clipped and controlled, "then we do not know what he could have left behind."

joo-mi instinctively moves closer to your bedside.

"my lord, respectfully, there has been no sign of corruption," the apothecary says carefully. "her pulse is stable, her condition-"

"that creature stood beside her bed like he belonged there," your father says angrily. "and she let him."

that accusation stings you more than you expected. probably because it was actually true. weakly, you find your voice. "father.."

he doesn't even look at you.

"i want her gone by tonight." he says coldly, "make it quick."

"my lord, please, she is your daughter." joo-mi pleads, but he doesn't even listen to that. he walks out of the room after that.

the apothecary gives you a sympathetic look, and joo-mi already has tears falling down her cheeks.

they continue to stream freely down her face as she rushes closer to your bedside, grabbing your hands carefully like she’s terrified you’ll disappear if she lets go. "my lady.." her voice cracks badly. "i'm sorry, i should've been here with you."

you can barely process what just happened. your father had just ordered your execution.

"joo-mi, please." the apothecary pulls her away gently. he leans closer to you. "my lady, please forgive me." your throat tightens at his words.

fear suddenly floods your chest, sharp enough to cut through the exhaustion. the apothecary’s hands tremble as he uncaps a small vial.

a vial is pressed to your lips, before you are made to drink it.

"please," the apothecary says quietly, and somehow the grief in his voice is worse than if he sounded cold. "drink."

your body feels way too weak to fight properly. the liquid pours into your mouth bitter and burning, sliding down your throat before you can try turn away.

you can hear joo-mi's sobs. the apothecary shuts his eyes, as if he himself doesn't want to watch it.

"i added something to make you sleep first," he murmurs. "you should not feel much pain."

the edges of your vision darken slowly as the medicine settles deeper into your system. one thought repeats quietly in your mind.

'heeseung said he wouldn’t let you go again.'

those are the last words you ever think in that life time before your eyes shut for the last time.

there's low humming somewhere nearby. you assume it's air conditioning.

when you wake up again, you're in an unfamiliar room. your eyes open slowly. then you sit up abruptly, and almost immediately regret it. pain throbs behind your temples hard enough to make you wince.

"fuck.." you mutter, voice hoarse. the word sounds foreign after hearing nothing but formal speech for what felt like days. that was definitely the longest dream you'd had in ages. it was so strange.

you couldn't control yourself at all. it was like a series of events all played out for you. plus, you don't think you've ever died in a dream before - assuming that's what happened in the end.

your breathing quickens slightly as you look around properly now. this room wasn't the infirmary, it was a bedroom. modern-style, and completely unfamiliar.

you glance over. a dark hoodie hangs over the back of the chair nearby. from the looks of it, it belonged to a male. you sit up now, alarmed. the worst possibilities come to mind - did you get assaulted after you passed out..?

pushing the blanket draped over you off, you notice all of your clothes are still on and intact. your hand flies immediately to your neck, no andages this time. but the skin there still feels sensitive beneath your fingertips.

you sigh in relief, standing up. you take hesitant steps toward the bedroom door, pressing an ear to it. your legs still feel slightly weak beneath you, but at least they hold your weight this time.

surprisingly, there was no noise on the other side of it.

leaning back, your hand reaches for the handle, turning softly, not wanting to make any noise. the door opens with only the faintest click.

you peek out cautiously first, it's just an empty hallway.

your gaze flicks toward the front door instinctively, which you can barely see from here. it's locked.

three separate locks, actually.

"..okay," you whisper under your breath. that's mildly concerning.

you step out further anyway, bare feet silent against the floor. you gawk, actually - staring at your bare feet, because you definitely weren't the one to remove your shoes or socks.

a voice suddenly comes from somewhere behind you, "most people wait until they fully recover before they try to escape, you know?"

you nearly jump out of your skin.

spinning around sharply, you're met with lee heeseung - except this time, his hair isn't black. it's burgundy, definitely not natural like the last time you saw him.

well, that was in a dream to be fair.

your heart races, feeling heavy.

it's him.

the heeseung plastered across billboards, album photocards shoved into your drawers, performances you’d replayed at two in the morning when you couldn’t sleep.

your actual, real-life idol. your brain feels like it short-circuits.

"did all that work?" heeseung speaks again, leaning closer. this time, he doesn't hesitate to grab you by the waist, smashing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. his tongue forces it's way past your teeth, kissing you like he's trying to devour you whole and begging for forgiveness all at the same time.

you're dizzy, and confused. did he get the wrong girl? you kiss him back either way. one hand fists your hair gently, angling your head to deepen the kiss further. the other roams on your lower back, before finally resting on your hips.

when heeseung finally breaks away, you're both panting. he rests his forehead against yours, eyes heavy-lidded with clear desire. "i'm sorry for doing that to you." his jaw clenches in anger, like he's remembering a bad memory. "i never forgave myself after that day."

you blink, "..what?" you pant, out of breath. "doing what to me?"

heeseung tilts his head, pulling his head away but his hands are still on you, as if he's scared that if he lets go you'll disappear again. "hm." he inhales, "your dream. it was real. it was your memories in your past life."

for a second, your brain refuses to accept the sentence. real?

you stare at him, searching his face for any sign of joking. there isn't any. "what, you're actually a vampire and i've been reincarnated multiple times?" you joke, but heeseung's face is dead serious.

after a few seconds, he parts his lips, flashing his fangs.

your throat tightens at the sight.

"that doesn’t make sense," you whisper. "tell me something that happened in the dream, then."

"you let me get you off in the carriage." he says, a smug grin on his face as the words leave his mouth. your face heats up at the embarrassing memory.

"okay," you fold almost immediately. "i believe you." heeseung looks relieved at your words, but a little surprised too. to be honest though, you sort of believed in the whole red-string theory. if he's found you multiple times in each life time, then maybe it was meant to be.

that same teasing smirk you saw in your dream re-appears on his face.

"i think that's the shortest amount of time it's ever taken me to convince you." he says. "you're getting better at it."

you think about his words. you were a huge fan of him, at least in this life time, there wouldn't be a reason for you to deny him. he was the bias in your favourite group, after all. his voice interrupts your thoughts.

"oh, so you're a fan of my work?" heeseung asks coyly, leaning in closer. you lean back instinctively, face feeling hot.

"..you can't use your mind-reading thing against me." memories of your dream flash-back to you. mainly when heeseung left you to die, kind of.

heeseung opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. "mind you, you're basically the reason i died, and you bit me twice without my permission."

the teasing in heeseung’s face doesn’t disappear, but it softens. "i'm sorry." he wraps his arms around you, bringing you closer to him. you indulge in his touch, but then he opens his mouth again. "plus, i asked you the second time."

you scoff, pulling away. "if my memory serves me correctly, i said no and you bit me anyway."

a guilty expression washes over his face. "you're right. i'm sorry, baby." the pet-name catches you off guard. especially since it's coming from lee heeseung of all people. maybe this was a dream too, and you were going to wake up disappointed.

"it isn't a dream." heeseung says, sounding a little frustrated. his fingers graze your jaw, before grabbing your face, squishing your cheeks together firmly, but gently. "do i have to prove that to you?"

you're taken aback, eyes widening slightly. his lips are on yours before you can even fully register the meaning of his words. his kiss isn't as gentle as it was previously though. his fangs graze your bottom lip, barely, but still cutting the muscle open. his tongue swipes, licking up any blood that seeps out of the cut. heeseung's hands slide into your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss as he presses your back against the wall.

when he finally breaks away, saliva connecting your slick lips, you're both left panting. his eyes are half lidded, looking at you with clear desire.

“let me make it up to you,” heeseung murmurs, voice low. “let me show you how sorry i am for letting you go. for how much i need you.”

one of his hand trails down your side, resting on your waist. that same cold hand of his slides underneath your shirt, making you flinch as his palms skim over the soft skin of your stomach and ribs. he tugs at the fabric, silently demanding more access to you.

this time, he actually waits for an answer.

you blink in surprise at first, but nod when you see his pleading eyes.

“fuck, you taste so good," he rasps, ducking his head to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. “i’ve wanted this for so long..."

he nips at your pulse point, before soothing the sting with his tongue. heeseung makes no move to bite you this time, simply just sucking hickeys onto your neck as his hands explore your body.

he grabs your hand, dragging you to his living room. heeseung guides you backwards until the back of your legs hit the couch, causing you to sit down.

he follows, settling between your parted thighs. “tell me what you want, baby.” heeseung coaxes, looking up at you through his lashes. “i’ll give you anything."

this was all happening so quickly, you felt dizzy. you snap back into reality. clearing your throat, you realised you were in control here clearly, so you might as well take advantage of it.

when you don't respond, heeseung sighs - before grabbing your wrists, pinning them above your head. "i was trying to be gentle, since i haven't fucked you for centuries, but you make it so hard to resist."

heeseung leans closer, pressing his body against yours. his cock throbbed painfully in his sweat pants, slowly losing self-control with each second. you can't ignore the feeling of his hard-on eagerly touching you, still separated with the layers of both of your clothing.

"i had to wait hundreds of years for this," he whispers lowly, "for you to be under me once again."

heeseung misses your past lives together. he misses the way you used to writhe underneath him, hearing you moan his name over and over again. he learnt exactly what made you whimper, learnt exactly where your g-spot was, and how to make your legs shake. how else did you get off so quickly back in the carriage?

heeseung's hand snakes down past the band of your skirt. you were still dressed in your office uniform, after all. he can feel the heat radiating from your pussy, even your arousal was evident through the thin fabric. "i don't want to upset you again," he begins, he mumbles against your neck, "so, i'll ask this time. will you let me fuck you?"

you make eye contact with him, and all the blood in your body goes straight to your heart, pumping furiously. folding, you nod. "..okay."

heeseung grins, releasing your wrists. you're confused, but then before you can react, you're manhandled onto your stomach.

"what-" you start to speak, but heeseung cuts you off. "shh, just relax." he murmurs, hands gripping your hips firmly, thumbs digging into the soft flesh. one of his hands slides around to the front, going underneath the waistband of your skirt.

his fingers rub against your panties, thumb specifically going for your clit. heeseung lets out a soft groan when he feels how damp you are. "you're so wet for me, yet you act like you don't want this, hm?"

"can you just fuck me?" you hiss, embarrassed. you lift your hips slightly, trying to feel more than just teasing touches, but his fingers don't move.

he calls your name, voice low. "i don't appreciate you talking to me like that." you feel his fingers tangle into your hair, before tugging you backward. "i was going to be gentle with you, considering you haven't taken me in years."

heeseung's hand pushes your skirt up, making it bunch around at your waist. his palm comes down, spanking your ass. "but i guess you're still an eager slut, same as all of those years ago." a soft whimper leaves your lips.

"..why would you even say that?" you grumble, annoyed at the fact that he was not only degrading you, but also comparing you to another version of yourself again. it didn't exactly turn you off though.

his fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, practically ripping them off you. "why would i say that? because it's true." his hand comes back down. "spread your legs." his tone leaves no room for argument.

hesitantly, you spread your legs. heeseung wastes no time, his hand delivering another sharp spank, this time to your aching cunt. he groans at the sound of your startled gasp as a result of it, the noise sending a jolt of arousal straight to his dick.

a shaky sigh leaves his lips, and you can feel his presence step back. "on your knees." he says calmly, making your eyebrows knit in confusion. you look back at him, but he looks dead serious - it's kind of scary even.

you blink, but retreat, climbing off the couch, settling onto your knees. looking up, he's already looking down at you, expression impassive as he tugs at the waistband of his sweats.

your bare knees are already digging into the hardwood floor, making you shift slightly. heeseung reaches inside, freeing his dick - and making your eyes widen at the impressive size.

it was pretty though, in a weird way. his tip was a pretty pink, and a prominent vein went along the side of it.

"..you don't actually expect me to give you a blowjob, right?" you say, dumbfounded. it wasn't outrageously thick in girth, but the actual length of it looks like it could kill you maybe.

heeseung's hand reaches for the top of your scalp, he curls his fingers in your silky hair, gripping firmly but not painfully as he makes you look up at him. "does it look like i'm kidding?"

you gulp, the look on his face told you he definitely wasn't. with a slight tug of his hand, he guides you closer until the swollen head of his dick brushes against your bottom lip. "open your mouth, pretty."

the pet-name kind of eases your hesitance in a way. you part your lips, revealing the pink wetness of your tongue. heeseung applies steady pressure, slowly pushing past your lips and onto your tongue. the taste of his pre-cum floods your senses as he starts feeding you more of his dick, inch by inch.

"that's it.." heeseung groans, throwing his head back, holding you in place as he starts shallow thrusts. the hand in your hair tightens, forming a pony-tail with whatever hair is in grasp of his fingers.

you pull off, gagging when he starts to thrust. you aren't used to this, and his dick is way too big - hurting your jaw. heeseung allows you to compose yourself, reaching down with his other hand to wipe at a stray tear. "too big?" he snorts teasingly, making you glare up at him.

"shut up." you hiss, wrapping your fingers around his shaft again, taking him back into your mouth. heeseung hums approvingly at that.

"that's better.." he praises, moving the hair out of your face. he pants softly, starting to move his hips forward into your mouth. each thrust pushes him further past your stretched lips, the thick head of his dick nudging the back of your throat.

one of his hands remains tangled in your hair, setting the pace, while the other one traces along your jawline gently. that same hand drops lower, grazing over your neck as he feels it bulge slightly around his dick. drool escapes the corners of your mouth, coating your chin and dripping down onto your heaving chest, staining your blouse.

"you're taking me so well." heeseung whimpers softly, hand on your neck moving to your cheek as he strokes it gently. "guess your body still knows who it belongs to even after all this time."

you feel yourself getting light-headed from the lack of oxygen, and so you pull off. heeseung hesitantly lets you, watching the string of saliva that connects your lips to the swollen head of his cock.

"was that too much for you, baby?" heeseung strokes your hair gently, but his tone is nothing but condescending. ironic because the entire time he was trying not to cum as soon as you wrapped your lips around his tip.

his hand reaches back down underneath your skirt as you willingly part your legs for him. heeseung's fingers finding your most intimate area, spreading your slick folds open. "you're even wetter than before," he observes, almost snickering. "did sucking my dick really excite you that much?"

without waiting for a response, he pushes two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your sopping heat, pumping steadily as he stretches you open for him. you gasp, hands immediately gripping onto his forearm in an attempt to stabilise yourself. that makes him grin, leaning in to whisper into your ear. "i'm the only one who can make you feel like this, right?"

you weren't a virgin in this timeline, but he didn't need to know that. you nod at his words, "...yeah, of course." his eyebrows furrow, and at that you remember he can read minds. shit.

heeseung's thumb finds your clit, rubbing firm circles which coaxes more of your essence to coat his digits. his other hand has a bruising grip on your hip. heeseung's gaze is locked onto your face, taking in every micro-expression and breathy whimper that leaves your lips. "maybe i wasn't your first, but you'd be stupid to think i'd let someone else touch you ever again."

the pressure in your stomach increases, but he pulls his fingers out before you can even consider cumming. you open your mouth in protest, but he stuffs his fingers in, silencing you effectively.

he pulls his fingers out of your mouth. heeseung pulls you up and bends you back over the couch, stomach flat against it as he tugs your hips up with his hands. "you're so annoying," you whine, turning your head back to glare at him. "i was going to cum."

"you're about to cum soon, stop being impatient. you're not the one who's waited years." he snaps back, annoyed. heeseung's hand forces your head down into the pillows of the cushion, and that's when you feel his swollen tip press against your wet folds.

heeseung pushes in without any warning, bottoming out immediately, making you jolt as you moan into the pillows. your cunt immediately tries to push out the large intrusion by fluttering dramatically around his length as heeseung stills, letting you adjust.

he pulls your head up by your hair, letting you breathe. it kind of hurts in your lower region, making you exhale. "am i bleeding..?" you whimper out, internally hoping he'll say no.

"a bit, yeah." his fingers reach to your inner thigh, scooping up what you presume to be the blood, and you can hear him lick his fingers - ew. heeseung pushes your head back into the pillows, before withdrawing his hips, only to slam back harder. you choke.

heeseung says something to you, but you can barely register his words with his dick so far in you that you can basically feel it in your throat. he leans forward, pulling you up so your back is against his chest, his hand snaking around to press against the lower part of your tummy.

"nothing to say?" he whispers into your ear, moving his hips up again in a particularly hard thrust, making a loud cry leave your swollen lips. his hand drops further down, cupping your cunt as he rubs your clit.

you can barely stand, resting the back of your head against his shoulder. "..what? i-i didn't hear you." you mumble, tears welling up into your eyes.

heeseung leans forward, kissing the side of your neck. his fangs graze the skin again, but you can't lean away due to his arm on your collarbone keeping you pressed against him. "i said, you wouldn't mind if i take a sip now, right?"

you turn your head in rejection, unknowingly realising that it just gives him easier access to your neck. in turn heeseung takes that opportunity., sinking his fangs into your neck. he doesn't stop moving his dick in and out of you either.

you can't form thoughts as your vision starts to blur, unable to stop choked moans and whimpers from leaving your throat. it just feels way too good, even if this is his way of punishing you - using you like a personal fleshlight of sorts.

heeseung continues sucking on your neck, hand back on your lower stomach, pressing down as he feels himself in there. he pulls away, panting softly in your ear. "are you going to cum soon, pretty?"

you nod, completely putting all of your weight onto him and the couch as you can barely keep yourself up right. heeseung lets you lean onto him, increasing the fervour of his thrusts. your eyes roll into the back of your head as you feel him lick onto the wound he made on your neck.

"..t-that tickles, stop." you mumble out, gummy walls clenching down onto his cock at the feeling of him licking you.

heeseung pushes you back onto your stomach, following you as he pushes his weight onto you. he moves your hair from the side of your neck, kissing your jaw. "but baby, you just tightened up the second i did that." the pace of his thrusts increase, hips meeting against your ass each time. heeseung sucks a hickey onto your neck, licking over it once he deems it as perfect.

you feel lightheaded at this point, and you're on the brink of cumming. heeseung's hand wraps around your throat, applying light pressure there. his mouth moves down, biting your shoulder now. that's your breaking point, making you cum over his cock. "you taste even better like this.." he whines softly into your ear, pulling away from your shoulder.

your thighs shake underneath him, sobbing as you shut your eyes completely. heeseung doesn't stop though, whimpering softly into your ear as he re-doubles his efforts, trying to make himself cum.

"f-fuck," he whines, burying his face into the crook of your neck. every flutter of your tight walls contracting around him made his eyes roll back. your body twitches as heeseung continues, chasing his own release. you could basically feel every vein and ridge of his dick now, feeling extra sensitive because you just came.

heeseung's cock twitched inside you, before you feel him empty himself deep inside of you. he fills you completely, a loud moan leaving his lips at the same time, "i love you...you're mine." he pants out, mumbling against your neck, "you're mine only, nobody else gets to have you but me."

you honestly feel like you're about to pass out, slumping back into the couch. the combination of his rough treatment plus the blood sucking was enough to make you want to sleep. heeseung notices this.

he kisses the side of your cheek, "one more time?" the glare you shoot him afterwards gives him your answer, but heeseung doesn't relent, flipping you onto your back. "don't look at me like that. i'm just excited to finally have you back."

"hey, heeseung.." you call out tiredly, looking up at him. "why haven't you just turned me into a vampire already?" maybe it wasn't possible? who knows.

heeseung stares down at you, his pupils becoming bigger at your words. "..you never wanted me to turn you into one, even though i wanted to." he mumbles quietly, making your eyes widen.

before you can even process it properly, heeseung speaks again, too fast this time, like the words slipped out before he could stop them.

"..do you want me to?"

you blink.

the question hangs between you immediately. you? a vampire? the thought feels strange, almost unreal. you imagine the fangs, the immortality, oh and the blood. but somehow, your brain circles back to heeseung.

to staying beside him. to not dying while he remains exactly the same, waiting for your next return. "..i'm okay with it," you admit slowly. "if you want to, of course."

heeseung stares at you. his hand lifts instinctively, fingertips brushing lightly beneath your jaw before stopping himself halfway.

"you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that."

this literally took me ages and i literally was just gonna keep this in the drafts bc i couldn't stick w a consistent plot line so if there are any loopholes try ur best to ignore them 😭😭 i tried my best to proofread and make sure there wasn't any tho 🫶🫶

i wanted to have a try but im lowkey never writing smut again bc that shit was WAY too hard like there is just sm going on omfg, lowkey the reason this even took so long to write bc i just kept procrastinating it lol😭🤦‍♀️

🤏 was this close to just deactivating during and after writing the smut..

[microwavedstrawberr1es]

cooked. COOOOOOOOOKEEEEEDDD

[icupsaki]

may you never forget me

synopsis: in which heeseung spots you in the crowd and realises that his past lover has been reincarnated once again. however this time around, he definitely isn't letting you go.

pairing: idol!lee heeseung x f!reader

genre: historical (joseon era) au, modern au, romance, past lovers, red string theory (sort of), bittersweet, reincarnation, dual timeline, vampire!heeseung

cw: angst, major character death, blood/violence, attempted suicide, implied that reader has depression, age gap relationship, fluff, yearning from both sides, porn with plot, unprotected sex, power dynamics, unestablished relationships, dubcon (heeseung uses vampire hypnosis once), dom/sub, oral (m receiving), fingering, choking, rough sex, manhandling but it’s consensual, possessive!heeseung, slight breathplay, overstimulation, biting, spanking, brat tamer(?)!heeseung, implied multiple rounds, sort of emotional manipulation on heeseung's side, reader is also hinted to have social anxiety, heeseung takes advantage of this, no use of y/n, semi proofread (sorry for any mistakes)

word count: around 19k (i don't even know how this happened)

MDNI

the stadium pulsed with noise.

lights flashed across thousands of raised phones, white and silver beams sweeping over the crowd like waves. somewhere to your right, a girl was crying so hard she could barely scream his name out anymore.

but that was understandable, in your eyes at least.

it was lee heeseung, after all.

on the massive screen above the stage, his face appeared again alongside his members, sweat-damp hair falling into dark eyes, breath uneven from dancing all night.

you were so close to the stage, standing in the pit. your throat burned from screaming too, though your voice had long disappeared many songs ago.

heeseung drew you in so much, but it almost didn't feel voluntary. not in the way that you were being forced to like him, but in the way that you felt as if you were bound to love him. your chest ached so violently watching him smile that you had to press a hand against it.

heeseung steps forward, microphone lifted effortlessly as the opening notes of the final chorus rang through the stadium. the cameras follow him with ease. for a moment, he tilts his head slightly, eyes skimming over the crowd out of habit.

that's when his eyes land on you.

you think it's just a lucky glance, him simply sparing his gaze across the sea of people like usual. he never pulls away.

for a second, his expression falters, and that's when you can confirm that his eyes are on you. it's subtle enough for nobody else to notice, as he pulls away shortly after.

your breath catches in your throat from the way he looked at you like he knew you somehow, which would be impossible. maybe you reminded him of somebody?

heeseung avoids your side of the stage for a remainder of the night, only returning toward the end. every time he drifts near that side again, his gaze stays deliberately elsewhere, toward the upper sections, the cameras, his members, anywhere but you.

idols are trained to look everywhere. to make every fan feel seen, but he avoids your eyes so carefully it almost feels intentional.

by the final song, you’ve nearly convinced yourself you imagined the entire thing. maybe he wasn't looking at you at all.

confetti spills from the ceiling in silver streams, disappearing beneath flashing lights and deafening screams. the members bow beside him, smiling breathlessly as they thank the crowd.

after he bows too, he looks up, straight at you.

you blink, your heart pounding extra hard. this time, the hurt in his expression is unmistakeable. he looks like he's in some sort of pain.

the concert is basically over after that, and enhypen say good bye to all of their fans. you go home, tired after the commute home. you can't stop thinking of the way heeseung looked at you tonight, even if it was just you being delusional.

you don't fall asleep like you usually do. at first, you lie on your back staring at the ceiling, phone face-down beside you, unable to get anywhere after shutting your eyes.

every time you try to think about something else, your mind slips back to him, despite being exhausted. you turn onto your side, pulling the blanket up even though you’re not even cold. the concert noise fades in your memory.

your thoughts slow down, one by one, finally. the room around you gets softer at the edges. eventually, your grip on the blanket loosens without you noticing.

right before you fully drift off, there’s one last strange, quiet image that slips through your mind.

it's similar to falling snow behind your eyes.

snow falls quietly onto dark stone next to you.

"is it really that time of the year already, joo-mi?" you ask, reaching your hand out to let more snow fall onto the palm of your hand.

your servant, joo-mi, stands next to you, nodding her head. "i believe so, my lady."

"it's colder than i remember. compared to last year, at least." you mumble, watching how the flakes of snow dissolve on your skin.

you curl your fingers slightly, as if you might be able to hold onto the winter itself. the courtyard is empty at this late hour apart from you and joo-mi. oh, and the singular guard standing at the entrance.

shifting beside you, joo-mi lowers her gaze respectfully. "winter has arrived earlier, my lady. the elders mentioned that it would be a long one."

you hum softly in response, though your attention is already elsewhere. the mountains beyond the perimeters of the estate.

you stare at them for a moment longer than you mean to.

there is something about them tonight. something that draws you in. anywhere away from this place would do you justice, honestly. you were extremely bored.

and unfortunately expected to be wed to a noble boy by the end of this year. gross.

a gust of wind moves through the courtyard, brushing cold against your cheeks.

joo-mi shifts closer instinctively. “my lady, shall we return inside? the wind is growing harsher. i don't want you to grow ill."

you don’t answer her question, gaze drifting across the courtyard. specifically, back to the guard at the front gate, half-shadowed beneath the light.

"joo-mi, why is there only one tonight?" you look up at her, eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. the guard doesn't look familiar anyway. he was young, you could tell by his stature. it wasn't the usual older guard that took the night shift, and there was meant to be two.

joo-mi follows your gaze again, hesitating for only a moment before answering. “i believe one of the guards fell ill earlier today, my lady. the replacement was assigned on short notice.”

you turn your head back, uncaring. "i want to go back inside now."

joo-mi bows her head immediately. “of course, my lady.”

she steps forward at once, adjusting her pace to yours as you begin to turn away from the courtyard.

the cold bites at your skin for one last moment before the warmth of the estate corridors begins to surround you instead. joo-mi follows behind closely, blowing out the candle she was previously using when the two of you were outside.

joo-mi escorts you to your room, opening the door for you. you thank her.

"my lady, you have a long day tomorrow. you should rest well tonight."

you step into your room, the door sliding shut behind you with a soft thud that echoes through the hallways. the warmth inside your room is immediate.

“of course,” you reply quietly, voice muffled. you walk in further, slipping out of your outer layer. "you should rest as well, joo-mi."

"yes, my lady. good night." her footsteps slowly retreat down the slim hallway, footsteps pattering against the wood.

you sit at the edge of your bed for a moment, hands resting loosely in your lap. you weren't tired at all, unfortunately. but, you required an escort everywhere in this estate - per your father's requests.

you had no choice but to fall asleep. there was nothing else to do, after all. every single novel sitting on the shelf beside you had been read, along with every puzzle. you truly were bored.

eventually, you lie back, pulling the blanket over you. the fabric is warm, making you feel sleepier.

the lantern light from earlier has long since dimmed, leaving the room in a soft, peaceful ambience. apart from the sound of the harsh wind from outside.

your breathing slows without you noticing.

your eyes drift toward the ceiling, before shutting on reflex and falling asleep.

the next morning you awake to soft knocks on your door, tapping once.

then again, a little more carefully. “my lady?” joo-mi’s voice filters through the wood, familiar and steady.

light spills faintly through the edges of your curtains, revealing the morning sun before you can even open your eyes properly.

"you can come in," you say, mid yawn, stretching your arms up into the air.

there's a brief pause before your door slides open, but when it does, joo-mi is on the other side. joo-mi steps in quietly, already composed, her hands folded in front of her as she keeps her gaze respectfully lowered.

"did you sleep well, my lady?" she smiles softly at you, which reminds you of her age. she was only a few years your senior.

you’re still half-lost in sleep as you sit up, hair slightly disheveled, blinking at the brightness leaking through the curtains. you cling to the warmth of the blankets.

"i think so." you mumble, stretching your arms again before letting them drop lazily into your lap.

joo-mi moves further into the room, already beginning her routine without needing instruction, picking up your garments from yesterday and folding them. she folds out each crease with care, before replacing those garments with new ones for you today.

"are you excited for today, my lady?" joo-mi asks from behind you, tone cheerful. "you'll be going out town."

you were excited at first when you heard the news, but when you found out your father was practically sending an entire army to supervise you, your feelings on it dulled.

but now, the word feels slightly dull on your tongue as you speak them. "sure."

joo-mi continues folding your garments with calm efficiency, laying out today’s clothing with care before turning back toward you.

“you seemed pleased when you were told,” she adds, glancing at you over her shoulder. “it is the market district, is it not? there will be many new sights.”

market district? there wasn't much you were interested in, to be honest. you weren't the most outgoing.

"yes.." you say slowly, coming out quieter than initially intended. your fingers tug slightly at the edge of the blanket, resisting the urge to pull them back over yourself.

it should be exciting.

it is exciting.

but you can barely bring yourself to care. you look at joo-mi, "do you think father would let me skip this today?"

joo-mi looks at you, not expecting the question as her hands pausing mid-fold.

“my lady…” she begins carefully, as if choosing each word to avoid sounding like a reprimand. “your father has been preparing for this trip for some time. i don't think he would be happy...if it were to be postponed.

but you already knew that.

joo-mi he sets your garments down neatly before stepping closer, her tone softening again. “is something troubling you this morning?”

the question lingers in the air.

you open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out immediately. because there isn’t a clear reason, nothing you can point to and name properly.

"no, there isn't, joo-mi." you reassure, "i'll go. can i change now?" you ask her, standing up, shuffling the bedsheets off your lower half.

joo-mi relaxes slightly at your response, the tension in her expression smoothing back into its usual calm composure. “of course, my lady,” she says gently. “i'll start preparing your bath."

she bows her head and steps toward the door, pausing only long enough to glance back once more, before slipping out and closing it softly behind her.

you stand, stretching once more as the last remnants of sleep finally leave your body. the bed creaks softly as you move away from it, the warmth of the blankets already fading behind you.

then there’s a soft knock.

“come in,” you say.

the door slides open, and joo-mi appears once more, her hands neatly folded in front of her.

“my lady,” she says gently, “your bath is ready for you.” you nod once at her words, still lost in the lingering haze of sleep.

you follow her down the cold hallway, a familiar path to your private bathroom. joo-mi opens the door for you, revealing a steaming hot bath. the warmth spills out into the hallway the moment the door opens, contrasting the air behind you.

steam curls lazily into the corridor. the bath inside has been prepared as you like it.

joo-mi steps aside respectfully, keeping her gaze lowered. “my lady, I will be just outside if you need anything.” she bows, before stepping out of the room and leaving.

the sound of the latch clicks softly, and you are alone. you move closer to the bath slowly.

you take off your garments, before taking a step into the water, sinking your entire body in shortly after. the warm water ripples around you, surrounding your entire body - practically easing your muscles after only a minute of being submerged.

you sink in a little deeper as the steam around you rises, relaxing your body without your permission. you stay in that bath for around twenty minutes, simply basking in the warm water.

stepping out, you wrap a towel around yourself, calling for joo-mi. "joo-mi, can i have my clothes?"

she pushes the door to the side gently, draping you in something that resembles an overcoat, temporarily shielding you from the cold. nobody was allowed to enter your chambers anyway, so she escorts you back to your room.

upon entering, she reaches for your clothing that she had previously laid out, before coming behind you and helping you change into them.

joo-mi moves behind you with quiet efficiency, her hands careful as she helps you out of the bath wrap and into the layers she had prepared earlier.

you stand still, letting her work.

it's a smooth and easy process, as always. both you and joo-mi had gotten used to this already, it was a daily routine after all.

she takes a step back after she finishes, admiring you and her work. all your sleeves were aligned properly, as well as your folds being smoothed down. "my lady," she gasps quietly, "you look so beautiful, especially today."

her words bring a small smile to your lips, "thank you, joo-mi. you're the reason for that."

a light pink dusts her cheeks, "thank you, my lady - but i only played a small role. i only ensure what is already there is brought out properly,” she adds more softly, smoothing the front of her sleeves out of habit. “you have always been beautiful, my lady.”

joo-mi steps back slightly, then reaches for the last piece of your outer layer, holding it up for you to slip into. you do exactly that, and she smooths out the final layer.

joo-mi gently tugs at the fabric, ensuring that it's fitted perfectly as you outstretch your arms. "i'm done, my lady. are you ready to step out? the carriage should be ready for us."

you let your arms fall back to your sides, nodding as you slip your shoes on. "if i must. let's go."

joo-mi opens the door for you, sliding it once again. the rhythm of your footsteps blends softly with Joo-mi’s as you move through the corridor.

joo-mi walks just half a step behind you, as always, careful not to overtake or fall too far back.

“the carriage is waiting at the front gate,” she says gently. “your father has already left instructions for your escort.”

you hum faintly in response, gaze forward, "you are coming with me today, right?" you ask her, double checking.

"yes, my lady. i should be accompanying you today. i wasn't made aware of any change of plans." joo-mi says, walking down onto the footpath with you.

servants pass in the opposite direction occasionally, bowing quickly as you go by.

as you near the entrance hall, you slow slightly without meaning to, you can see the carriage from here now.

joo-mi notices immediately. “my lady?”

you blink once, then continue walking. “It’s nothing.” but the hesitance in your step tells her everything. your eyes linger ahead for just a moment longer than necessary, you see a lot of people you don't know surrounding the gate.

behind you, joo-mi’s steps remain steady, but her voice softens slightly when she speaks again.

“it will be a busy day,” she says. “but I will be with you.” she reassures. you continue walking forwards, catching the attention of the servants preparing the carriage.

there’s a brief shift in movement as they straighten, bowing as you approach.

the air outside brushes against your skin, a servant lowers his head. “my lady.” you acknowledge it lightly.

one of them quickly moves to open the carriage door properly, while another steps aside to clear your path. you thank him quietly, taking the hand he offered to you to step into the carriage.

you don't recognise any of the guards accompanying you today, unfortunately. joo-mi steps in afterwards, sitting across from you.

outside, the courtyard continues with it's movement, guards taking their positions, as well as double checking the horses.

a few minutes pass, and you finally feel the carriage moving. you peer slightly outside, seeing the front gates to the estate opening.

as the carriage begins to move, joo-mi continues speaking, pointing out small things about your journey, like the scenery. you nod, engaging in conversation with her.

the market should be around an hours drive on a carriage, so around ten minutes you decide to just take a small nap. you were pretty tired anyway, despite only having woken up a short while ago.'

after it feels like you've only shut your eyes for five minutes when joo-mi calls out for you. "my lady?" she asks softly, "we're nearly there."

you wink an eye open, sitting up as you smooth yourself over. "thank you," you mumble, covering your mouth with your palm as you yawn.

you sit in silence, your arm sitting atop your stomach as you lean into the chair behind you. pushing the curtain back with your other hand, you look around, seeing the bustling markets.

the sound hits you first, plenty of voice overlapping, as well as vendors calling out to customers. an uncomfortable feeling sits at the bottom of your topic.

your chest tightens faintly, though you don’t understand why. the carriage rolls forward again before the thought can settle properly.

you swallow once more, as your gaze tracks across it all without really landing anywhere for too long. too many faces, too many directions, too many things happening at once to properly follow.

you feel very aware of your body all of the sudden. joo-mi speaks softly across from you, but you only catch part of it, she's saying something about the market being way busier than expected.

you sit back slightly, letting the curtain fall a little more into place as you nod, like you're on auto-pilot. the carriage comes to a stop, and around thirty seconds after the door opens.

your fingernails dig into your palms unknowingly, making you bleed. joo-mi looks at you, not noticing the injury but just the tense expression on your face. "are you alright, my lady?"

snapping your head back to her, "i'm fine, yes. you can go out first." joo-mi looks at you like you're insane. you were a higher status, that meant you were meant to exit the carriage first.

"are you sure, my lady? it's against the rules-" joo-mi asks, unsure. you cut her off, "i insist."

joo-mi hesitates for only a second longer, then bows her head and steps down carefully from the carriage.

you take a deep breath. you remain seated for a moment longer, your hand is still curled tightly in your lap, though you don’t register the sting properly until the air shifts again.

a shadow falls near the carriage step. it isn't large enough to beg for attention, but it defiinitely catches yours.

a guard stands there. he's young and composed.

his uniform is simple, outer guard markings visible but unadorned. he doesn’t speak at first.

he’s looking at you, offering a small smile as he bows in your direction. he extends a hand, “allow me, my lady,” he says.

you stare at his hand, which stays steady, palm open, waiting without pressure. you stand up after contemplating for a few seconds, placing your hand in his.

his grip is careful, firm enough to support you, light enough not to feel so restrictive. he helps you step down from the carriage.

when your feet meet the ground, he releases you immediately, stepping back into proper distance as if nothing more than protocol has occurred. “thank you, my lady,” he says, lowering his gaze respectfully.

he bows again, making you nod in acknowledgement. "..thank you." you speak quietly, walking over to joo-mi.

you can feel eyes on you from everywhere. it wasn't everyday that a member of a noble family attended a marketplace. you felt bashful under all their gazes.

people glance as you pass, some quick, some lingering just a little too long before they remember themselves and look away. it makes your shoulders tighten without permission, your posture subtly shifting as you try to make yourself feel smaller.

joo-mi notices, stepping half a pace closer so she can speak without anyone else hearing.

“this way, my lady,” she guides gently. “the main stalls are just ahead. It will be less crowded there

joo-mi offers you a smile, you return it partially. "what was that guard's name?" you ask, referring to the one that had helped you down from the carriage.

joo-mi blinks slightly at the question, as if she hadn’t expected your attention to linger there. “the guard?” she repeats softly, glancing over her shoulder in the direction you came from.

the young man is already stepping back into position near the carriage. you turn your head, and he's already looking - flashing you a smile. you turn back.

“i believe he is one of the newer outer guards assigned to the rotation,” she says thoughtfully. “he was brought in recently, so i haven't heard his name often. but," she trails off, "i think his name is lee heeseung."

you nod in acknowledgement, before walking off in the direction of a stall you deem as interesting enough.

the stall is crowded with fabric and jewellery, you think some of it looks pretty. joo-mi follows close behind as you stop in front of it, the merchant immediately straightening up at the sight of your clothing.

"my lady," he greets, bowing in front of you. "please, take your time looking."

you nod politely, already shifting your gaze down toward the display in front of you. there are strings of beads, along with other accessories such as embroidered scarves and such.

joo-mi points to one of the scarves of your favourite colour, “my lady, this would look beautiful on you.” she reaches over, lifting a ribbon between her fingers.

glancing at the ribbon briefly, you hum in agreement. "do you think i should take it?"

joo-mi nods, looking down in respect. "if you wish to, my lady."

you wave your hand, turning back to the merchant. "i would like one of these." you gesture to the ribbon in joo-mi's hands, and he nods immediately.

the merchant bows quickly, almost relieved at your decision. “of course, my lady. i will wrap it immediately.”

he reaches under the counter, retrieving another ribbon of the same colour. he lays it neatly on a small cloth before beginning to fold it with practiced precision.

you turn your head away, disinterested in the process. unfortunately for you, your father had asked you to stay out the whole day - besides nightfall, of course.

joo-mi pays for the ribbon using the money pouch given to her by your father. "my lady, would you like me to have these added to your belongings in the carriage?"

you look at her, nodding. "yes."

the merchant ties the ribbon carefully, placing it into a small paper wrapping before sliding it forward. “thank you for your purchase, my lady.”

joo-mi takes it first, holding it securely before turning back to you. she steps closer to you, "we should continue, my lady. the market will only start to get busier."

with a defeated sigh, you nod. "if we must. when will we be able to go back?" you ask her, glancing back at the carriage.

"i'm sure we can leave when you would like, my lady." joo-mi responds softly.

you glance back toward the carriage again. it sits a little further down the street now, partially visible between moving bodies and stalls. the guards remain stationed around.

the idea of already returning feels like a waste.

you begin walking, joo-mi trails after you. she notices your hesitation without commenting on it. instead, she adjusts her pace to match yours as you start walking again.

“we do not need to stay long,” she adds softly. “just enough for you to see what you wish. your father only asked that you are properly escorted and return before evening."

you nod, humming.

"joo-mi, do you want anything from these stalls?" you ask, turning to her. the question catches her off guard.

she blinks once, clearly not expecting the question at all.

for a moment, she actually hesitates, before quickly lowering her gaze.

“my lady…i am not here to purchase anything,” she says gently, as if reminding both you and herself of her position.

you keep walking, watching her for a reaction.

joo-mi adjusts her sleeves slightly, composing herself again. “if you are asking out of kindness, then i am grateful."

she pauses again, "but i do not need anything."

eyes forward, you hum. "that isn't what i asked, joo-mi.

“my lady,” she says carefully, “your visit is for you. It is not necessary for me to-"

the look that you give her makes her pause, cheeks heating up. "i suppose i could look around, if you truly wish that."

you nod, "please do. none of this interests me, and i would rather rest at the carriage."

joo-mi nods, "i understand. i'll escort you back, my lady." she guides you through the crowd, subtly choosing paths where you'll avoid the densest parts of the market.

soon, the carriage comes back into view, waiting exactly where you left it. the guards are still stationed in their positions.

"thank you." you look at her once you're standing next to the carriage. she hesitates for a brief moment, as if still unsure whether she’s truly allowed to separate from you in a place like this.

“if you are certain,” she adds softly, “i will not be long.”

one of the guards bows to you, opening the door and allowing you entry to the carriage. "welcome back, my lady."

looking back at joo-mi, you give a small, dismissive wave of your hand. “go.”

that seems to reassure her.

joo-mi straightens, composing herself again into her usual calm composure. “i will remain within sight. if you need anything, call for me immediately.”

you nod once in response. she bows, then steps away into the market.

the guard shuts the door, and you sit in there peacefully. the outside noise dulls immediately, and you sigh in relief.

there's a knock on the door, soft. as if whoever is outside is waiting for permission rather than demanding attention.

a masculine voice follows, lowered slightly just loud enough for you to hear. “my lady.”

you don't recognise it immediately, but you sit up.

"you can open the door." a few seconds after, the door is slid open softly.

you blink when you realise it's the same guard from before, lee heeseung.

you take in his face properly this time. his face is gentle in structure, and you would consider him to be handsome. he seems to be somewhere around your age too.

when he speaks again, his voice is steady, but softer than you expect. “my lady,” he says, carefully. “i apologise if i disturbed you. i only wished to ensure you were well.”

you look at him, tilting your head in confusion slightly at his concern, "no, you didn't disturb me."

you pause in thought. joo-mi was going to be a while at the market's, right? you use your chin, gesturing to the seat before you. "come in. i'm bored."

there’s a brief pause outside the carriage. his face contorts into one of confusion, as if he’s double checking whether or not he heard you correctly.

"my lady?" his voice rings again, making you glance back at him. "inside the...carriage?"

"yes," you say simply. "unless that’s a problem."

"no, of course not, my lady." he steps onto the upper platform. once inside, he lowers himself into the space opposite you.

for a moment, neither of you speak.

"close the door, please." you ask softly, leaning back into your seat. he reaches over, shutting the door. the carriage feels smaller with him inside, but not uncomfortable.

he glances briefly toward you, then quickly lowers his gaze again, as if remembering himself.

"i apologise if this is improper," he says quietly. "i'm still on duty."

you look at him, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "i am the one that asked you to come inside, no?"

a faint pause, "yes, my lady."

that makes you exhale, almost amused.

"then talk to me." you say. "joo-mi’s not here, and i’m not doing anything."

he blinks once at that, before locking eyes with you. it's like he's locked your gaze onto his own, because you're unable to pull away.

heat crawls slowly through your body, it starts low in your chest, feeling strange. you sit up, re-adjusting your body.

"talk?" he repeats, like he’s making sure he understood the request correctly.

"yes," you confirm. "anything. i don’t care."

he shifts in his seat, thinking. "most of my days are unevenful, my lady. i'm not sure what you'd like to hear."

you tilt your head. "then tell me uneventful things."

when he doesn't respond, flustered, you scoff. you lean forward, pointing to his hand - where there is clear injury. it looks like the palm of his hand was sliced open by something.

"tell me what happened to your hand. i want to know." his attention drops instantly to where you’re pointing. then he reacts subtly, almost too late. he curls his fingers slightly as if to hide it, but stopping before he fully closes his hand. the injury is still visible. a clean, uneven cut across his palm, recently dressed but already faintly stained through the edge of the wrapping.

"it's nothing serious, my lady." he starts, voice careful and even. "just apart of my duties."

"what part of your duties requires you to have bleeding hands?" you look at him, raising an eyebrow.

"my duties involve assisting wherever needed," he says after a moment, voice steady. “not all tasks will be predictable. the crate was heavier than expected. i misjudged it when securing the corner."

"you mean to tell me that a crate cut you open like a fish?" you blink, seeing through his lie.

you hold out your hand, "give me your hand." he hesitates for only a fraction of a second, just enough to register that you’re actually serious, before carefully shifting his injured hand forward.

he places it in your open palm.

up close, the cut is clearer. not deep enough to be life-threatening, but enough to sting sharply. the dressing around it is already slightly worn at the edges, clearly not tended to properly.

"this was clearly done by a knife." you look at him, running a finger gently over the wound. he flinches, and you notice.

you press down harder, and a small whimper leaves his lips. his shoulders stiffen, his jaw clenches tightly.

"my lady," he says quietly, "it hurts when you do that.."

you hum, smoothing your finger up and down the bandage. "but," you look up at him, "you like that, don't you?"

he doesn’t pull away, but his fingers tense in your hold, like he’s forcing himself not to react more.

"i asked you a question." you say, catching his attention once again.

he looks up at you, and that same fire burns through your lower abdomen now. "i am not sure how to respond to that, my lady." he admits bashfully.

"with honesty," you say, dropping his hand from your grasp.

"then yes. it felt nice, coming from you my lady." there’s no playfulness in his tone.

you blink in surprise that he was actually honest. you hum softly, leaning back in your seat.

the heat in your body is bothering you now. it's too strong to ignore, like someone struck a match beneath your ribs and let the flame burn.

"..are you permanently assigned to me?" you ask, turning back to him.

the question seems to catch him slightly off guard. he straightens a little, as if adjusting back into duty.

“i am assigned to the outer escort rotation for your household,” he answers carefully. “so, not permanently, my lady. i rotate between posts. but while you are outside the estate, i am your escort."

"who gave you those orders?" you ask him, a small pout forming on your face.

his gaze flickers up for a moment. “…is there a concern, my lady?”

"answer my question first." you nudge his calf with your foot gently.

"…the head of the estate guard rotation," he replies carefully. "the order came through your household steward, under your father’s direction."

"ignore them." you wave your hand dismissively. "i want you on my rotation. you are staying with me."

it looks like he genuinely doesn’t process the words properly.

he nearly chokes, "pardon me, my lady?" he doesn't believe he heard you correctly.

his gaze flickers up briefly, then away again. "do you mean… during today’s escort duty?"

"i want you to escort me everywhere, anytime i want." you speak softly, resting your chin on your hand. “not random guards i don’t know.”

"…that is not a simple request," he says carefully. his posture straightens slightly.

"escort assignments are rotated to prevent overexposure and maintain security protocol."

you barely process his words, "i don't care. you're on my team from now on."

"..my lady," he says carefully, "that is not something I can decide." for a second, he looks genuinely uncertain how to respond without overstepping or possibly offending you.

glancing back at him, you notice the fear on his face. "oh, relax. if it makes you feel any better, i'll ask my father about it."

"…if your father approves a reassignment," he says slowly, "then I will follow the order given."

his eyes lift briefly to yours. "however, escort rotations are handled for security reasons. consistency with a single guard is not usually recommended."

he hesitates, before speaking softly again, "that said… I will not refuse a direct instruction if it is officially issued."

"it's officially issued by me that you are with me from now on." you reply quickly, sitting up.

"may I ask what makes you certain about this decision, my lady?" he asks.

"you entertain me." you admit honestly. "what's your name?" you weren't one hundred percent sure if joo-mi even had the correct name.

"lee heeseung, my lady." he bows his head in respect.

your gaze drifts back to his face again, and reluctantly, you have to admit it probably influenced your decision a little too.

because unfortunately for you, heeseung is extremely attractive.

but for some reason, you can't stop this insatiable feeling that you got when you first looked heeseung in the eyes. and no, it wasn't just because of his pretty face.

you sigh softly, and heeseung notices the agitation.

"my lady, are you feeling alright?" he asks softly, leaning closer.

you shake your head, "it feels so hot in here," you say, leaning back. you start to fan yourself, "..i feel so hot."

"would you like me to call somebody, my lady?" he asks softly, leaning a bit closer. as soon as he does that, you feel your lower region ache.

"..no." you sit-up, shaking your head. would it be shameful of you to ask a guard to relieve you? it’s definitely a breach of contract somehow, but that was for your father to worry about, not you.

"..come here." you ultimately decide, making space for him next to you.

heeseung obliges, blinking innocently. you almost feel bad for taking advantage of your position.

your cheeks heat up, and they’re about to burn brighter at the request you’re about to make. lowering your voice to a whisper, you speak. "..i want you to touch me."

heeseung’s eyes widen. "did i hear you correctly, my lady? you want me to touch-"

you cut him off immediately, clamping a hand over his big mouth. when you trust him to be silent again, you remove your hand.

"keep it down, will you?" you hiss, sighing. "..you know what, never mind."

you begin to fan yourself again, ignoring him out of embarrassment. after a few seconds, heeseung speaks up again.

"my lady," he starts, but you don’t turn toward him. heeseung calls out for you again, which finally makes you turn your head.

"what?" you glare at him, a soft frown on your lips.

"if you were asking me to relieve you,” he whispers this time, leaning closer. “i’d be willing to oblige you.”

you stare at him for a second, trying not to shy away from his gaze. taking a deep breath, you nod. “..please.”

“do i have permission to touch you, my lady?” you nod instantly, feeling the ache between your legs grow even more.

heeseung’s hands are immediately on yours. one hand slides under your robes to your front, spreading your thighs apart. he cups your pussy possessively.

his fingers are gentle at first, pushing your underwear to the side as he rubs at your folds with feather-light touches. he teases your entrance, circling but not penetrating.

you groan in annoyance at this, making him apologise swiftly, “sorry, my lady.” an apology leaves his lips, yes, but you don't miss the stupid grin on his face as he says it.

your wetness coats his fingers as he continues exploring your folds. “you’re so wet already,” he whispers softly, almost in admiration. it’s embarrassing - the way he's just gawking at the slick connecting his fingers to your cunt.

“can you keep it down?” you whisper back, turning your head away shyly.

“of course, my lady.” he agrees, shuffling closer to you. he lifts your thigh, granting him easier access to your slit. heeseung slip a single finger into you, letting out a quiet groan at the tightness wrapped around his finger.

you bring your hand to your own mouth to conceal your noises. heeseung pumps his finger slowly, revelling in your soft gasps and whimpers despite you attempting to muffle the noises.

a second finger joins the first, stretching you deliciously as he curls them just right - hitting that spongy spot. your toes curl, a louder whimper slipping from your lips.

when his thumb finds your clit, rubbing firm circles, your hand grips onto his wrist, nails digging into his skin.

that doesn’t stop his ministrations, though. heeseung continues to pump his fingers in and out of your sopping heat steadily.

“w-wait,” you whimper out, making him glance up at you. you use your hand to tug at his uniform, pressing your lips against his.

heeseung kisses you back hungrily, tongue delving into your mouth to taste you. he continues to move his fingers in you, redoubling his efforts even.

his thumb flicks over your clit rapidly, making you squeeze your thighs around his wrist. he can’t really move his fingers in and out if you do that, so he opts to curl his fingers inside you, finding that special spot that makes your toes curl.

he swallows a loud moan that definitely would’ve left your lips. when he finally pulls back, you’re both panting hard.

“my lady,” heeseung breathes out, “i can’t pleasure you if you keep shutting me out like this.” he breathes out, referring to the leg lock you currently have his wrist in.

you apologise softly, “i-i’m sorry,” you sputter, “it was just..a lot.” a smirk appears on heeseung’s lips at your words.

“my lady,” he speaks, and you look at him. “may i be granted permission to make you feel as good as you possibly can?”

you stare at him, confused at first. “you want permission to do anything?” heeseung nods at your words.

you’re hesitant, but he seems to know what he’s been doing this whole time. “..fine - i grant you permission."

he withdraws his fingers. heeseung grabs both of your wrists with one hand, holding them against your chest. he backs you further up into the seat, spreading your thighs with his knee.

now that you’re spread out for him, he plunges his fingers back in - making you gasp.

his pace is brutal now, practically fingerblasting you. the way his fingers piston in and out of your dripping pussy create obscene squelches that fill the usual silence of the carriage.

you squirm, thighs shaking the slighest. as a result of trying to silence yourself, you bite your lip so hard it actually starts bleeding. heeseung’s eyes lighten up at that.

heeseung leans in, “keep it down, my lady. otherwise the both of us will get into trouble.” he whispers, lips grazing the side of your ear.

you nod, whimpering softly. “i-i’m, ah- sorry.”

his thumb makes it’s way back to your clit, rubbing harder and firmer circles now. you can’t hold it back, your pussy fluttering around his digits. your stomach tightens, and after a few seconds - the coil releases, and you gush all over his fingers.

heeseung slowly pulls his fingers out as you pant softly, he also releases your wrists.

“did that satisfy you, my lady?” heeseung asks, and you can’t help but notice the cocky tone in his voice. you're still catching your breath though, so you don't care to humble him.

you hum softly, nodding in agreement. “..satisfied? yes, very.”

heeseung pats your robes back down, fixing your clothing for you. you also comb your fingers through your hair, trying to make it look like it did previously.

the atmosphere definitely probably smells like sex, it’s a confined space after all. you sit back, trying to catch your breath.

a knock breaks the moment. the both of you pause.

heeseung straightens immediately, posture resetting into something more formal.

"yes?" you ask softly, a little worried whoever it was at the door could tell what just went down.

"my lady, may i come in?" it was joo-mi.

"you may." you respond sitting back properly.

the latch clicks, and the door opens just enough for her to step inside. she pauses for half a second when she notices heeseung already seated opposite you, then quickly smooths her expression back into composure.

whatever thought flickers across her face is gone almost immediately, replaced with her usual expression.

“my lady,” she greets, bowing her head slightly.

"did you find what you were looking for, joo-mi?"

“yes, my lady,” she answers softly, a smile creeping up onto her face. “the stalls were as expected. i did not require much time. thank you for letting me do that." she bows her head again in appreciation.

her eyes flick briefly toward the space opposite you, just for a moment, not lingering.

“i also ensured your purchase was added safely to the carriage,” she adds, referring to the ribbon.

heeseung begins to move as if to stand, but joo-mi lightly raises a hand.

“stay seated,” she says politely, not unkindly. “there is no need to adjust for me."

"no, joo-mi, you can have your seat back." you correct. you look at heeseung, "you may leave. thank you for your time."

“understood, my lady,” he says at once. he stands, bowing his head. careful not to bump anything in the confined space of the carriage, his posture resets as he steps out of the carriage.

joo-mi glances toward you, a small teasing smirk on her face. it’s very subtle.

you notice it though. “what?” you ask immediately, eyes narrowing slightly.

“nothing, my lady.” she replies quickly, patting down the fabric of her sleeves in an attempt to smooth it out.

you stare at her, meanwhile she avoids your gaze. that lasts for around two seconds before she eventually loses composure, and ultimately makes eye contact with you.

“you seemed rather interested in that guard.” she says lightly.

you blink once. “i was just speaking with him.”

“yes,” joo-mi agrees, nodding her head. “for some amount of time.”

“there was nothing else for me to do while waiting.”

she hums, straightening her lips. the sound itself is enough to make your expression flatten.

joo-mi lowers her gaze politely again, though her small grin never disappears.

“he is very handsome,” she adds after a moment.

you immediately look away toward the carriage curtains, out the window. “that had nothing to do with it.”

“..of course, my lady.” joo-mi agrees out of respect, despite seeing through your lie.

outside, the faint sound of guards shifting into position can be heard.

“we will be departing shortly, my lady,” she says gently, and you nod.

“are we going back to the estate?” you ask, unsure of what you’re even doing next.

“we can go wherever you’d like, my lady.” joo-mi says, reaching for the handle of the door. “would you like me to ask the guards to take us elsewhere?”

"no." you shake your head, "i want to go back home, please."

joo-mi pauses for a split second, but nods anyway. "of course, my lady." there’s no disappointment in her voice or an attempt to persuade you otherwise.

she slides the carriage door open slightly and relays the instruction to the guards outside.

“we will return to the estate.” voices from outside respond to her in acknowledgment.

movement outside the carriage begins. through the small opening of the carriage window, you briefly catch sight of heeseung again near the escort line. snow catches faintly in his dark hair before melting almost immediately.

joo-mi reaches for the carriage door, closing it once more. inside, warmth settles around you again, quieter now than before.

joo-mi sits across from you, studying your expression carefully before speaking.

“was the market too much today?” she asks gently.

you stare at your hands for a second before answering. "a little, yes."

she nods like she already knew. “then going home is the right choice.”

outside, the carriage finally begins moving again. you sit back in your chair, shutting your eyes. your breathing gradually slows with the movement of the carriage.

the next moment, or it feels as though, you awaken. joo-mi is calling out for you, “my lady,” joo-mi says gently. “we’re back.”

your eyes open slowly. for a second, everything feels blurred together, but you blink, once, twice - and it's clearer.

you straighten slightly in your seat, rubbing at one eye tiredly.

“…already?” your voice comes out softer than intended, still heavy with sleep.

“you slept through most of the journey home, my lady.”

you glance briefly toward the curtained window beside you. it’s darker outside now than before, evening fully settled over the estate grounds.

"how is it already evening? we left early morning, no?" for some reason, your chest feels oddly light. you take another look, genuinely perplexed.

joo-mi pauses at that. “…we did.”

you pull the curtain aside slightly, staring out at the estate grounds again. lanterns have already been lit along the pathways, their warm glow reflects against the snow.

your confusion deepens. the market trip hadn’t felt long enough for this and neither had the ride home. you glance back toward joo-mi. “how long was i asleep?”

she blinks, then slowly looks toward the carriage window herself, as though only now properly registering the darkness outside. “…i’m not certain,” she admits quietly.

you kind of just stare at her, before letting your shoulders loosen in carelessness. whatever.

the thing is, joo-mi is always certain. always aware of time, schedules, routes. but now even she looks unsettled, gaze lingering toward the evening sky outside the carriage. “it should not be this late,” she says after a moment, mumbling to herself more than to you.

the carriage door opens, a different guard stands outside this time, one you vaguely recognize from the estate grounds but not by name. "my lady," he says respectfully, extending a hand out to you. "we have arrived back at the estate."

you take his hand, stepping down from the platform. "tell me, how is it night already?" you ask the guard, making him furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

"you have been out of the estate the whole day, my lady." he responds casually. that makes you pause mid-step, your grip loosens slightly as you look up at him, perplexed.

you glance around once instinctively, everything feels strangely quiet. all of the guards that had originally come with you were surrounding the carriage, preparing for it to be put away, but heeseung was nowhere to be seen.

"hm." you hum, letting go of the guard's hand. "thank you."

“of course, my lady,” he replies, dipping his head in acknowledgement.

but your memory doesn’t feel like a full day, it feels put together, like it was fake or something, maybe.

joo-mi steps closer behind you, noticing your expression immediately. “my lady?” she asks softly. “are you feeling unwell again?”

the guard shifts his stance slightly, attentive now but not alarmed.

you blink once, then slowly shake your head. "no,” you say, though it comes out uncertain even to your own ears. "i'm fine. i would like to return to my quarters, please."

this was strange. there was no way it would've cost you the entire day to ride to the market, spend some time there, and return. you should've had the entire afternoon and more left, so why was nobody questioning it?

behind you, joo-mi steps closer, falling naturally into pace as you begin walking toward the estate doors.

“shall I prepare warm water for you again?” she asks gently, as if nothing about the day was unusual at all.

as the doors of the estate open ahead of you, you shake your head. "yes, please."

joo-mi nods her head in acknowledgment, walking down the empty hallway with you. she escorts you to your room, she pauses, bowing her head slightly. “i will return shortly with your bath,” she says.

you nod, already half distracted, fingers intertwining with each other as if to calm yourself. “thank you.”

joo-mi walks off, and you take a seat on one of the chairs near the window, letting your hands rest in your lap.

you sort of daze off until she comes back.

being a noblewoman was boring in a way that never really changed. always waiting, always being prepared for something that never quite felt like it belonged to you.

there was nothing for you to do except sit, behave, and eventually be married off into another household that would decide your next set of rules for you. there was nothing you were allowed to do alone, either.

your father had noticed. he tried to entertain you in your own way, but you assumed it was hard considering there was nobody around your age within the estate aside from joo-mi. your father wouldn't allow for it. it was a surprise that he was agreeing to marry you off this year, but he probably deemed you as old enough.

she was kind and familiar, but still part of the structure of your life, not outside it. there wasn’t really anyone who felt like they existed in your world without purpose or permission. joo-mi wasn't there because she enjoyed your company, she was there because she had to be.

you barely saw your father either, and your mother was dead. it didn't hurt much to think about now, it was many years ago.

your father never moved on, though. he never really let you drift too far from his grasp. after the death of your mother, something in him must have tightened

you let out a small breath, leaning back slightly in your chair. boring wasn’t even the right word anymore. it honestly felt like you were already dead, but unluckily in hell. your punishment was eternal boredom.

a soft knock catches your attention, and you turn toward the door.

"my lady?" joo-mi calls quietly, "your bath is ready. may i come in?"

you blink once, "come in."

the door opens almost immediately.

joo-mi steps inside, “i’ve prepared it at the temperature you prefer,” she says gently.

you nod, standing up from where you're sat.

joo-mi hesitates for just a moment before speaking again, her voice softer now. "you seem tired, my lady. would you like me to stay nearby you while you bathe?"

"no, thank you, joo-mi." you politely decline as she closes the door to your room behind you. "i'd prefer if i was alone."

joo-mi nods, escorting you to the bathroom, she opens the door for you. "It's ready for you, my lady."

joo-mi remains behind you, hands folded. “i will be just outside if you need anything,” she adds softly.

you nod at her words, before walking in and shutting the door behind you.

you exhale slowly, slipping off the outer material of your gown. you're about to take off the next layer of clothing as well, but you pause.

your mind backtracks to what you thought about earlier, and you didn't want to marry some random man.

your left foot touches the water, then your right follows, sinking in slowly until you’re ankle deep in the bath.

the idea of marriage lingers again at the back of your mind. it's not like getting married would make you any happier. if anything, it would make you feel worse. it makes your gut feel weird. like the concept of a life like that belongs to another version of you that isn’t standing here right now.

the water rises as you lower yourself into the bath, still fully clothed. the fabric clings to your skin as it absorbs the hot water. you settle in until you’re fully seated.

if you disappeared, then you wouldn't be obligated to do anything your father asked you of.

plus, it's not like he'd even notice if his daughter was gone or not. despite living within the same estate, massive or not, you only saw him once a few months.

and even then, the conversations between the two of you are brief, structured, and formal. like a meeting arranged between obligations rather than a father and daughter talking.

you sink further in, water up to your collarbones now.

you thought of joo-mi. maybe she would be sad if you were to leave her, but she would get over it ultimately. the two of you weren't friends, she was an employee to your father.

the bath remains still around you, only small ripples forming when you shift slightly. your thoughts don’t feel loud anymore.

they feel… flat.

there's no substance behind them, they don't feel real. you don't even notice yourself sinking further into the water, the hot steam coming from it applying warm pressure onto your face.

it reaches your jaw, then your lips, which you clamp shut. then your nose, and you stop inhaling.

you shut your eyes too when the water comes up high enough. before you know it, you're fully submerged in it, drowning peacefully.

you think it's peaceful at least, till it's not.

your lungs start to burn, hurting your insides like an uncontrolled fire. on instinct, you straighten quickly, pulling yourself more upright in the bath and lifting your face fully above the water, coughing and sputtering.

your hands press lightly against the edge of the tub for stability.

joo-mi's voice rings from outside, alarmed. "my lady, are you alright in there?"

you don't look up, eyes forward on the water before you. tears start to leak from those same eyes. "..i'm fine, thank you." your voice comes out steadier than you thought it would, to be honest.

on the other side of the door, you hear her shift closer. “are you sure?” she asks again, more carefully this time. she isn't pressuring you into answering, but she doesn't sound convinced.

"yes, i'm fine." you feel more tears streaming down your cheeks. "please leave. i want to be completely alone."

joo-mi speaks again, quieter than before. “..as you wish, my lady.” you hear her foot steps retreating down the hallway, echoing.

your eyes sting before you even fully register it, and it isn't because of the bath water entering them. you shut your eyes, trying to force it away. you stay still, hands remaining braced against the bath’s edge until your breathing begins to settle again, hiccuping softly.

there's footsteps approaching, but you don't register it, even though it sounds like they're already in the same room as you.

then, a light brush of fingers moving the hair stuck to your face. that makes you blink wide open, meeting familiar eyes.

it's heeseung, the guard from earlier, crouching before you. he wasn't supposed to or allowed to be here. you flinch back instinctively.

he pulls his fingers back too, his expression blank. but he doesn't look the same, something about his face is off.

"why are you crying, pretty girl?" he speaks, tone way more mature than when you had previously spoken to him. your throat tightens before you can answer.

heeseung tilts his head slightly, studying you when you don't answer. "is it your father again?" he reaches forward again, hand cupping the side of your face, thumb stroking your cheekbones gently.

"what..? what are you talking about?" you don't bother moving back this time, simply letting him touch you. you didn't care enough at this point. it all felt like a dream, anyway.

"you know what i'm talking about." he says your name after, whispering it softly. he drops his hand from your face. his hand lowers to his side, fingers flexing once like he’s resisting the urge to reach for you again.

"do you want me to kill him?"

the words don’t even settle properly before your face twists in disbelief.

your eyebrows furrow, and you look up at him like he's insane, which he must be for threatening to kill a nobleman.

"have you gone insane?" it comes out sharper than you meant it to, but it fits the way your chest is suddenly tight again. this time not from crying, but from the genuine shock you felt from his words.

heeseung doesn’t react the way you expect. there is no denial, or embarrassment, or any hint of backtracking his words. instead, his gaze is steady on you, face unreadable.

"no. what makes you think that?" his words make you lean back further into the bath away from him. suddenly you regret sending joo-mi off.

heeseung sighs, still crouched before you. "don't look at me like that, god." he clenches his teeth, and that's when you see the sharp fang.

he isn't normal, he isn't a human.

for a second, everything goes too still. even the water feels like it’s stopped moving around you.

heeseung notices immediately. he exhales through his nose, slower this time. his jaw loosens, but the damage is already done

your breath catches so hard it hurts. your eyes widen, and you try pull yourself out of the water. you've barely made it anywhere before your slammed onto the floor chest first with supernatural strength, upper body out of the water but your lower half is not.

a pained whimper leaves your lips, cold tile presses against your cheek, wet hair sticking to your skin. it was painful and overstimulating.

“hey.” his voice is different now, deeper. he sounds annoyed, almost. "stop moving."

you stop, stilling your body. the grip he had on your back relents, and he let's go entirely. "why are you doing this to me?" you mumble out, tired.

in the small amount of time he had you pinned down, it felt like you were about to die, and you already concluded you wouldn't have even minded at this point.

"i'm not doing this to you." his gaze drops to your body, clothes tightly clung to your frame. "you panicked. i just didn't want you to hurt yourself."

you deem it safe enough to turn, sitting up on your rear. "i meant, why are you here, doing this to me?" you use your hands to gesture to everything.

he ignores your question, leaning in again. his fingers touch the damage done to your face from him slamming you down so hard. it was cut slightly, and would definitely bruise.

"don't cry." his thumb wipes at a tear you didn't even know you had. "does it hurt?"

you shake your head, surprising yourself as to why you're so relaxed about this. heeseung shuts his eyes, almost as if he's savouring something.

"i'm sorry, i didn't want to do this so soon." you're about to question him on whatever that means, but he's on you before you can open your mouth.

he leans in, jaw angled to fit your neck. you feel his lips graze, tongue licking a spot on your neck and it tickles. the ticklish feeling is soon over after you feel something sharp sink into your neck, hard and fast.

you nearly scream, but he quickly covers your mouth with the palm of his hand. tears stream down your face from the pain, but he doesn't stop.

he continues sucking, your blood, you presume. the pretty man you wanted as a guard wasn't as innocent as you deemed he was. he was a blood-sucking vampire.

the moment his fangs pierced through your skin, a wave of euphoria is sent right through his body. his throat bobs with each swallow, the sound of him sucking echoing through the quiet room, aside from your pained gasps. the hunger that had been clawing at his insides for centuries started to subside.

heeseung could feel your heartbeat fluttering rapidly. he could hear it too.

your limbs feel weak, especially your hands. they're on his chest and shoulder, trying to push him away but it doesn't work. he grabs one of your wrists, then the other, holding them with his fingers.

your head doesn't feel any better, completely dizzy. you feel as if you're about to pass out, but he pulls away. blood leaks from his perfect lips, he licks at it before it can drip onto the floor. heeseung's hand catches the back of your head before it can fall to the floor.

"you taste so sweet," he reminisces, resisting the urge to go back for seconds. using his hand on the back of your head, he brings you closer to him - licking a stripe up on your open wounds slowly, not letting any go to waste.

"that was payback for earlier in the carriage." you can barely hold eye contact, feeling drained. heeseung notices you about to pass out, but he shakes your head, jolting you back. "no, you can't pass out on me now, baby."

you almost don't catch the pet name, not that you could bring yourself to care anyway. eyes landing on him, they focus.

"who are you..?" you gasp out weakly, slowly regaining your strength.

that small smile appears again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. if anything, it looks like it hurts him to make it at all.

“hmm,” he exhales softly, almost disappointed, but not in you. more so in the situation.

he looks away for a second, jaw tightening as if he’s frustrated. “it's okay, you’re not supposed to remember everything at once anyway,” he adds, softer. “it doesn’t work like that.”

you have zero clue on what he could be talking about, but before you can even ask him, he sighs again.

his face looks like he's contemplating something, chewing his lip before finally settling. he leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "i'll be back for you, don't worry." the way he says your name feels so intimate in the moment, despite it coming from a random man. or well, you thought he was a random man.

heeseung lowers you onto the cold tiles gently, before purposefully knocking a vase to the floor. it echoes through the bathroom, and it's safe to assume it echoes through the hallway enough to be heard from outside.

panicked footsteps come toward the bathroom, and heeseung winks at you, before disappearing in thin air. you gawk.

what the hell just happened?

you barely have anytime to think before joo-mi's voice comes from the other side of the door. "my lady! are you alright in there?"

you don't reply, hoping she'll get the hint to come in and help you, in which she does. "my apologises, my lady, but i have to prioritises your safety." she pushes open the door.

when she sees you laying on the floor, joo-mi immediately rushes over. "my lady!" her hands hover for half a second, before she carefully touches your shoulder, checking you over with precision.

“are you hurt?” she asks quickly, voice controlled but clearly shaken. “can you breathe properly?” her hands push your hair away, in attempt to keep it neat but then her eyes widen.

she sees the two holes in your neck, bite marks.

"oh my god." her hand freezes mid motion in your hair.

then she pulls back slightly, eyes locking onto your neck properly now. the bite marks are unmistakable. joo-mi's expression shifts fast, shock going to alarmed.

"my lady,” she says quickly, helping you upright gently. "don't move. i'll be back soon. you're safe now." she stands.

the door shuts behind her with a decisive click, leaving the bathroom in silence.

the awful sting and dull ache at your neck, pulsing was a simple reminder that what happened wasn’t a dream or panic or confusion.

it was actually real.

your body feels heavy in a different way now. it wasn't just weakness, but exhaustion catching up all at once. the kind that makes even sitting upright feel like effort.

you wanted to go to sleep.

joo-mi returns quickly with your estate's apothecary, as well as your father's steward.

joo-mi returns first, and behind her is the estate’s apothecary. your father’s steward follows close after, his expression immediately hardening the moment he sees the state of you.

“move aside,” the apothecary says quickly, dropping to his knees beside you without hesitation. he looks at your neck, then your face, then your pulse point.

"what happened here?" the steward asks, to which nobody responds.

“bite marks,” the apothecary says simply, already reaching for bandages and a small vial. “they are recent. not deep enough to be fatal, but she’s lost blood.”

“i found her like this,” she says, voice clearly on edge. “someone was in the room.”

the steward’s expression hardens immediately. “no one enters this wing without being cleared, and the guards would have seen them.

the apothecary gently tilts your chin, taking in the severity of your wounding.

suddenly, you feel a harsh pang on the side of your temples. it's sudden enough that your breath catches slightly before you can stop it. you hear voices around you speaking, and a pair of arms catching you before you fall.

shutting your eyes, you feel everything around you blur.

you wake up in your office cubicle, hair sprawled all over. a thin layer of sweat sticks to your neck and forehead, and when you try to move, your head throbs sharply, a dull, lingering ache right behind your temples.

what a weird dream.

the girl in it seemed so familiar though. like her face and the feeling of her presence felt so real.

and not to mention heeseung being in your dream, as some weird, freaked out vampire.

the dream version of him had felt familiar though. familiar in a way that got under your skin. even thinking of him in that concept made your chest tighten.

had you gotten way too deep into the enhypen loophole? should you go get some therapy..? maybe this was the aftermath of going to a concert, or something.

you stare at the black screen of your computer a while longer, trying to recount everything that happened.

“…what the hell,” you mutter under your breath.

it felt so real.

you exhale through your nose, letting it go as you always do when a dream doesn’t make sense to you.

your hand reaches for your neck, where the bite happened. you aren't expecting much, just skin. maybe some sweat from sleeping awkwardly at your desk.

but the moment your fingertips press beneath your jaw, pain flares sharply. you blink, sitting up properly. pulling out your phone, you open up the front camera, angling it toward your neck.

there's nothing. no bite marks, or bruising. it's just your skin.

a breath leaves your lungs shakily, somewhere between relief and embarrassment. “right,” you mutter quietly to yourself. “obviously.”

shrugging it off, you pat your hair down. you stand, stretching your arms. the weirdest part of all of this was that the headache you just had is practically gone. as if it were never there in the first place.

another thing you noticed was that it wasn't typical of you to have dreams midday. it was typically only when you were sleeping through the night.

it was pretty late at night now, and nobody else was at the office aside from a few of your co-workers. the building felt different at this hour.

picking up your items and putting them into your bag, sliding notebooks and loose items into your bag one by one. your mind keeps circling back to the dream.

a voice calling you “my lady." you pause briefly, then zip your bag shut.

no point overthinking it. you stand, shoulders rolling back as you sling the bag over one arm and glance around the office one last time.

you start walking toward the exit, your footsteps echo softly down the corridor, footsteps echoing in the near empty building.

and for a brief second, just as you pass the glass reflection of the hallway windows, it almost feels like you’re not entirely alone like you assumed.

but when you turn your head, there’s nothing there, just your reflection. was your mind playing tricks on you?

okay, you felt weird now. that weird headache was back too, but it was way worse this time.

a sharp pulse comes from behind your temples so suddenly that your vision blurs for a second. you stop walking immediately, one hand catching the edge of the hallway wall before your knees can fully give out beneath you.

that doesn't really help though, because they do give out and the next thing you know, you hit the floor once again. your knees hit first, then your shoulder catches awkwardly against the carpeted floor of the corridor hard enough to force the air from your lungs.

the pain sparks throughout your body, but it’s overtaken immediately by the pounding in your head. what was happening? this was honestly starting to annoy you, all the constant deliriousness and sudden passing out.

another pulse of pain blooms behind your eyes. the tension eases from your body, and your eyes slip shut. the last thing you register before consciousness leaves you entirely is the feeling of someone kneeling beside you.

when you wake up, you're in the infirmary. the first thing you take in is the smell. herbs. the scent is strong enough to sting your nose slightly.

you open your eyes, vision immediately being filled with the sight of a wooden ceiling. your gaze travels downwards, and you notice the heavy blankets laid out on top of you.

you push yourself up too quickly and instantly regret it when dizziness washes through your body. a hand reaches out, steadying you.

“my lady.” it's joo-mi. relief floods her face so fast. "you’re awake,” she breathes out.

she’s kneeling beside the bedding laid out in the infirmary room, hair slightly disheveled, which gives you the impression that she hasn't rested since you passed out. there are dark circles beneath her eyes now you don’t remember being there before.

joo-mi's here but even your own father isn't. typical.

"joo-mi," you sit up, slower this time. "what happened..?" your throat feels dry when you speak. "how long have i been out for?"

“you've been out for three days after you collapsed,” she says gently. “the apothecary said the blood loss and shock caused you to pass out."

your fingers reach up, ghosting over where the bite would've been. this time, your fingers come in contact with bandages, making you wince.

joo-mi notices immediately. “my lady,” she says softly, leaning closer. “be careful. the apothecary said not to touch the dressing.”

your hand instinctively flies down, "my apologies."

giving you a reassuring look, joo-mi shakes your head. "it's alright, my lady." she leans down, sitting back down on her knees. "the estate has been secured, so don't worry about anything."

"thank you, joo-mi." you say, genuinely grateful for her concern."

joo-mi’s expression softens immediately at your thanks. “it is my duty to care for you, my lady,” she says quietly. "though, if it is alright with you, may i ask what happened? do you remember your attacker, my lady?"

your eyes snap back to her, "my attacker..?" memories flash back. yeah, you were attacked by a vampire, and he put you into danger but your curiosity took over.

"that wasn’t enough to bring your memory back?"

yes, he hurt you. the bandages around your neck were proof of that.

why had he spoken to you like he already knew you? why did he sound disappointed instead of surprised when you didn’t remember him?

and the worst of all, why did part of you feel like you should?

joo-mi notices your distant expression immediately. “my lady?” she asks softly, concern creeping back into her voice.

you blink, "i don't remember." you admit, looking down at your lap. "how am

her expression softens as she watches you lower your gaze to your lap, "that's alright my lady. are you feeling hungry? your food is ready, i just have to go and get it."

when she mentions it, there is a faint emptiness in your stomach. you nod, "a little."

joo-mi rises from her knees, patting her skirt down, her expression filled with relief. "that's good. the apothecary said you should eat as soon as possible."

then she slides the door open quietly and disappears into the corridor. "i'll be back soon, my lady."

the infirmary falls silent again.

you're sat in bed, staring at the wall in front of you. your body still feels heavy from exhaustion, so you finally exhale and lean back slightly against the bedding. then the candle beside the far wall flickers, and the temperature in the room drops.

a quiet voice breaks the silence from somewhere behind you. "why didn't you tell her the truth?"

your pulse jumps instantly.

when you turn your head, heeseung's standing in the darkened corner as if he's been standing there since forever. his expression is calm as he steps closer toward you.

“how did you—”

“you think the guards can stop me?" heeseung says quietly, his gaze drifts briefly toward the bandages around your neck.

your lips form a small pout, annoyed at heeseung's ego. "fine. why are you here?"

"i wanted to see you." his honesty confuses you. had he not tried to kill you just a few days ago?

it's almost like he read your thoughts. "i know how that sounds," he says quietly, looking back at your neck. "but if I intended to kill you, you wouldn’t be alive right now."

instead, your curiosity returns. “why did you bite me?” you ask, voice flat out of annoyance. heeseung's been avoiding telling you the truth this whole time, and it's irritating.

"i thought that it would help you remember me. it did last time."

your brows knit together immediately, "last time?" you repeat, sharper now. heeseung's expression shifts, hurt washes over his features.

"..you’re not supposed to be remembering it in pieces," he says quietly. "it’s supposed to come back all at once."

he exhales softly, before speaking again.

"and I was trying to make sure you didn’t forget me again." heeseung comes closer to you, but you don't flinch away this time. you believed him when he said he would've killed you if he actually wanted to.

the space between you feels different this time, not dangerous or threatening. heeseung reaches out, cupping your cheek. his touch is surprisingly gentle this time.

'please don't snap my neck.'

that's all you're thinking of at this current moment. heeseung's face contorts into something similar of hurt, even though you never said it out loud. it's like he read your mind or something.

you know, he probably can read your mind. he's a vampire, why wouldn't you think of that? that explains it all, to be honest - how he's been able to recognise how you're feeling constantly.

vampires were controversial anyway.

half the court didn’t even believe they existed anymore, despite their being clear evidence of it such as old records sealed away in restricted archives or unexplained deaths. you always believed they were real, anyway.

your father hated them. a vampire is what took your mother away, after all. the details were never fully explained to you, anyway.

so you grew up with the idea already carved into your mind - that they were real, and they were dangerous, and they were the reason something important in your life had already been taken away. in theory, you should hate him and you should be terrified.

you should've been calling for guards the second he appeared inside this room.

your father would be horrified. the mere idea of you willingly sitting this close to a vampire would probably send him into a fit of rage severe enough for the entire estate to hear.

the thought comes bitterly this time.

because where even was he? you nearly died. your focus snaps back to heeseung, and suddenly the closeness feels too noticeable again. he drops his hand from your face, instead, he shifts and sits down beside you on the edge of the bed.

"so, you really don’t remember me." heeseung says quietly.

you frown immediately. “why do you keep saying that? that isn't giving me much insight."

"because it’s true."

your brows knit together. "i told you already, i don’t know what you’re talking about."

his gaze is unreadable for a second, but then he looks back, locking eyes with you. "in your past life,” he says quietly, "you were mine." your eyes widen.

heeseung's words settle in your stomach, it feels weird. "..yours?" you almost didn't believe it. a presumably centuries old vampire was claiming that you were his wife in your past life, how crazy did that sound? you stare at him, blankly. "you don't actually expect me to believe you, right?"

heeseung scoffs softly and straightens up from where he’d been leaning closer to you.

"i mean," he says dryly, "not really. you were a lot easier to convince last time."

his words make you pause instantly. "last time?" you repeat slowly. then your expression changes. "..how many times has this happened?"

for the first time since entering the infirmary, heeseung goes completely silent. as if he’s debating whether answering honestly is a good idea.

"heeseung, answer me."

his gaze lowers briefly before lifting back to yours again. "..three."

your eyes widen immediately. "three?!" you whisper harshly, breaking composure for the first time. "you’re telling me i've died three times?"

"you've reincarnated three times." he corrects softly.

"that isn't any better."

a faint flicker of amusement almost appears on his face before disappearing just as quickly.

"i mean, you remembered faster the second time," he murmurs, almost to himself.

you stare at him in disbelief. he continues, "but that time, you did throw a vase at my head."

your face scrunches up slightly, ignoring his dig at you. "how have i died three times? have you killed me all three?" you scoff.

heeseung is taken aback by your question, maybe even offended that you'd even assume that. "why would i kill my lover?"

before you can respond, he reaches over. his fingers settle against your forehead. you tense slightly on instinct, but all he does is flick it gently. "silly girl. you really do think the worst of me, hm?"

you feel a little disrespected that he thought he could just do that and get away with it. you were a noblewoman, after all.

something in you reacts immediately, you swat his hand away. "don’t do that." you snap, more offended than frightened now. you straighten slightly in bed, "i'm a noblewoman, you can't just touch me like that."

that earns a slight tilt of his head. "but you let me touch you back in the carriage, hm?" he says teasingly, making your face burn red.

"you still react the same way," heeseung mumbles. it feels weird that he's comparing you to yourself, yet you don't remember being her.

"how did you even manage to find out it was me?" you ask, curious about the whole reincarnation thing. heeseung looks a little surprised at your question. "does that mean you knew the whole time in the carriage? were you the one that manipulated with the time of day?" you continue spouting, making him press a finger to your lips, shutting you up effectively.

your words come faster as you think through it, the questions stacking on top of each other until you barely pause for breath.

"oh, so you noticed the time was off?" heeseung smiles, pulling his finger away.

"how could i not? and answer my other question - how did you know it was me?"

"..you always reincarnate into the same body." he begins quietly. "of course it changes with circumstances - like age, but i can always tell that it's you." heeseung sighs softly, a small smirk creeping up onto his face. "and you always smell the same."

if you were stupid, you definitely would've missed the seductive tone in his voice, making you flinch back slightly. "..that is inappropriate."

"you're my wife, why would it be?" the words land flatly, like it's the easiest thing for him to say.

a small blush covers the apple of your cheeks, making you look away in retaliation. "not in this life," you scoff.

"that can be easily arranged, baby." heeseung says, leaning over, picking your chin up between his fingers - making you look at him.

you wrap your fingers around his wrist, attempting to pull him away but he doesn't relent, making you give up pretty easily. "..there isn't a chance that i would've willingly married a pervert like you."

heeseung smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. instead of responding, he leans in, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, you freeze.

"relax, pretty." heeseung reassures gently, punctuating his words with a slow, deliberate lick along your jugular. the bandages are thin, and you can feel his fangs grazing the sensitive skin without breaking it. your face is beet red at this point, and you're sweating nervously.

he nuzzles further into the crook of your neck, body nearly on top of yours. you're tensed up, but heeseung doesn't care. after all, you're still the same woman he's loved all this time. "you'll let me have another taste, right? i've missed you. you took ages to come back this time around."

heeseung's fingers lightly push at the bandages around your neck when you don't respond, continuing to speak, "i didn't mean for last time to be so rough," he admits, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your neck. "i was just caught up in the moment."

he lifts his head from your neck, making eye contact with you. from this angle, he looked harmless - you had trusted that face once, or at least, something in you reacts like you had.

you take a deep breath, overwhelmed. "will you leave me alone if i let you..?"

"no." heeseung replies back simply, "you're mine again. why would i let you go once more?" his answer makes you scoff.

he leans back in once more, one hand slides down the side of you and rests at your hip, fingers squeezing gently.

"why would you even bother asking if you were just gonna do it anyway?" you mumble in annoyance. heeseung doesn't respond verbally. you can feel his fangs graze across your pulse again, marking exactly where it's gonna hurt. his empty hand grabs the back of your head gently, fingers tangling in your hair.

in one swift motion, he sinks his sharp teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. a soft whimper leaves your lips as you shut your eyes, trying to bear with the pain. you can almost exactly how much blood is leaving your body with each second. his fingers dig into your hip, pulling you closer to him, you shuffle forward with no surrender.

footsteps cut through the corridor outside, fast and urgent. the door slide open sharply.

"my lady!" joo-mi rushes in first, breath caught, eyes instantly locking onto you. relief flashes across her face for half a second before it tightens into panic when she sees heeseung beside you.

right behind her walks in the estate apothecary follows quickly, already holding a prepared medical kit, a guard following closely behind.

and then your father. he stops at the threshold.

for a moment, the entire room is silent. his eyes take in everything at once. you're sitting weakly in bed as heeseung drains the life essence out of you.

heeseung finally pulls away, caring enough to turn back at the audience watching the two of you. you slump back onto the pillows, exhausted.

the air in the room shifts immediately. "..step away from her," your father says, voice low.

joo-mi moves forward quickly, but the guard pulls her back by the arm protectively. the apothecary doesn’t speak, but his grip tightens around his kit in fear.

heeseung, however, doesn’t rush to defend himself, he simply looks at your father, blood dripping out of his mouth, down his chin. a small grin forms onto his face, "i was waiting for you to arrive." heeseung says quietly.

the guard shifts forward half a step, hand near his weapon. "i said to step away." your father speaks again, making heeseung stand, hands up in mock surrender.

your father's eyes narrow at the movement like it still isn’t enough. "..a vampire," he says quietly, like the word itself is offensive.

heeseung doesn't even react, just taking a slow step back from your bed. that only seems to confirm everything in your father's mind.

"you dare stand in my daughter’s room," your father continues, voice tightening with restrained rage, "after what your kind has done to this family?"

heeseung sighs as if talking to these people were a chore.

your father doesn’t look away from heeseung for even a second. "i should have you executed where you stand." he says coldly.

"you could try." heeseung says, tone full of arrogance, which seems to upset your father further. you shut your eyes, barely able to remain conscious at this point.

"you think immortality makes you untouchable?" your father asks, "you're a lowly creature."

heeseung tilts his head slightly, ignoring his insult. "no," he says simply, "but experience does."

heeseung’s eyes drift briefly toward you again, the expression on his face changes. his eyes soften slightly.

before the guard can even draw his weapon, heeseung's gone - just like that.

your father's expression hardens immediately. "search the estate," he orders sharply.

the guard bows, "yes sir." he leaves the room immediately.

joo-mi finally rushes fully to your bedside the second heeseung is gone, kneeling beside you quickly. "my lady, are you hurt?" she asks in a rush, eyes searching over you anxiously.

you barely respond, a small hum leaving your lips.

the apothecary steps forward, examining your form, "please remain still," he says carefully, though his voice sounds slightly shaken.

your father stays where he is, still staring at the empty spot heeseung disappeared from. his gaze shifts over to you, jaw clenched.

"has she been bitten?" your father asks, not bothering to come any closer.

the apothecary hesitates but nods, "yes, she has, my lord."

your father doesn't speak for a moment, but after around thirty seconds he speaks. "call the executioner, now." you barely register his words, but did he really think he had the power to kill heeseung?

both the apothecary and joo-mi snap their heads toward your father. "what? my lord, you don't mean to-"

your father finally looks at you properly now, and something about his expression makes unease crawl beneath your skin. but it isn't grief, or is it relief that you survived.

it's calculation.

"yes, i do." your father interrupts the apothecary. "she's a risk." he finishes coldly.

for a second, you genuinely think you misheard him.

joo-mi looks horrified. "my lord," she says quickly, voice shaking slightly, "the lady was attacked, she is not at fault-"

"you think I don’t know what vampires do?" your father snaps.

silence fills the room immediately afterward. the apothecary's face is as pale as a ghost's.

your father's gaze remains fixed on you now, unwavering. "if he fed from her," he says, each word clipped and controlled, "then we do not know what he could have left behind."

joo-mi instinctively moves closer to your bedside.

"my lord, respectfully, there has been no sign of corruption," the apothecary says carefully. "her pulse is stable, her condition-"

"that creature stood beside her bed like he belonged there," your father says angrily. "and she let him."

that accusation stings you more than you expected. probably because it was actually true. weakly, you find your voice. "father.."

he doesn't even look at you.

"i want her gone by tonight." he says coldly, "make it quick."

"my lord, please, she is your daughter." joo-mi pleads, but he doesn't even listen to that. he walks out of the room after that.

the apothecary gives you a sympathetic look, and joo-mi already has tears falling down her cheeks.

they continue to stream freely down her face as she rushes closer to your bedside, grabbing your hands carefully like she’s terrified you’ll disappear if she lets go. "my lady.." her voice cracks badly. "i'm sorry, i should've been here with you."

you can barely process what just happened. your father had just ordered your execution.

"joo-mi, please." the apothecary pulls her away gently. he leans closer to you. "my lady, please forgive me." your throat tightens at his words.

fear suddenly floods your chest, sharp enough to cut through the exhaustion. the apothecary’s hands tremble as he uncaps a small vial.

a vial is pressed to your lips, before you are made to drink it.

"please," the apothecary says quietly, and somehow the grief in his voice is worse than if he sounded cold. "drink."

your body feels way too weak to fight properly. the liquid pours into your mouth bitter and burning, sliding down your throat before you can try turn away.

you can hear joo-mi's sobs. the apothecary shuts his eyes, as if he himself doesn't want to watch it.

"i added something to make you sleep first," he murmurs. "you should not feel much pain."

the edges of your vision darken slowly as the medicine settles deeper into your system. one thought repeats quietly in your mind.

'heeseung said he wouldn’t let you go again.'

those are the last words you ever think in that life time before your eyes shut for the last time.

there's low humming somewhere nearby. you assume it's air conditioning.

when you wake up again, you're in an unfamiliar room. your eyes open slowly. then you sit up abruptly, and almost immediately regret it. pain throbs behind your temples hard enough to make you wince.

"fuck.." you mutter, voice hoarse. the word sounds foreign after hearing nothing but formal speech for what felt like days. that was definitely the longest dream you'd had in ages. it was so strange.

you couldn't control yourself at all. it was like a series of events all played out for you. plus, you don't think you've ever died in a dream before - assuming that's what happened in the end.

your breathing quickens slightly as you look around properly now. this room wasn't the infirmary, it was a bedroom. modern-style, and completely unfamiliar.

you glance over. a dark hoodie hangs over the back of the chair nearby. from the looks of it, it belonged to a male. you sit up now, alarmed. the worst possibilities come to mind - did you get assaulted after you passed out..?

pushing the blanket draped over you off, you notice all of your clothes are still on and intact. your hand flies immediately to your neck, no andages this time. but the skin there still feels sensitive beneath your fingertips.

you sigh in relief, standing up. you take hesitant steps toward the bedroom door, pressing an ear to it. your legs still feel slightly weak beneath you, but at least they hold your weight this time.

surprisingly, there was no noise on the other side of it.

leaning back, your hand reaches for the handle, turning softly, not wanting to make any noise. the door opens with only the faintest click.

you peek out cautiously first, it's just an empty hallway.

your gaze flicks toward the front door instinctively, which you can barely see from here. it's locked.

three separate locks, actually.

"..okay," you whisper under your breath. that's mildly concerning.

you step out further anyway, bare feet silent against the floor. you gawk, actually - staring at your bare feet, because you definitely weren't the one to remove your shoes or socks.

a voice suddenly comes from somewhere behind you, "most people wait until they fully recover before they try to escape, you know?"

you nearly jump out of your skin.

spinning around sharply, you're met with lee heeseung - except this time, his hair isn't black. it's burgundy, definitely not natural like the last time you saw him.

well, that was in a dream to be fair.

your heart races, feeling heavy.

it's him.

the heeseung plastered across billboards, album photocards shoved into your drawers, performances you’d replayed at two in the morning when you couldn’t sleep.

your actual, real-life idol. your brain feels like it short-circuits.

"did all that work?" heeseung speaks again, leaning closer. this time, he doesn't hesitate to grab you by the waist, smashing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. his tongue forces it's way past your teeth, kissing you like he's trying to devour you whole and begging for forgiveness all at the same time.

you're dizzy, and confused. did he get the wrong girl? you kiss him back either way. one hand fists your hair gently, angling your head to deepen the kiss further. the other roams on your lower back, before finally resting on your hips.

when heeseung finally breaks away, you're both panting. he rests his forehead against yours, eyes heavy-lidded with clear desire. "i'm sorry for doing that to you." his jaw clenches in anger, like he's remembering a bad memory. "i never forgave myself after that day."

you blink, "..what?" you pant, out of breath. "doing what to me?"

heeseung tilts his head, pulling his head away but his hands are still on you, as if he's scared that if he lets go you'll disappear again. "hm." he inhales, "your dream. it was real. it was your memories in your past life."

for a second, your brain refuses to accept the sentence. real?

you stare at him, searching his face for any sign of joking. there isn't any. "what, you're actually a vampire and i've been reincarnated multiple times?" you joke, but heeseung's face is dead serious.

after a few seconds, he parts his lips, flashing his fangs.

your throat tightens at the sight.

"that doesn’t make sense," you whisper. "tell me something that happened in the dream, then."

"you let me get you off in the carriage." he says, a smug grin on his face as the words leave his mouth. your face heats up at the embarrassing memory.

"okay," you fold almost immediately. "i believe you." heeseung looks relieved at your words, but a little surprised too. to be honest though, you sort of believed in the whole red-string theory. if he's found you multiple times in each life time, then maybe it was meant to be.

that same teasing smirk you saw in your dream re-appears on his face.

"i think that's the shortest amount of time it's ever taken me to convince you." he says. "you're getting better at it."

you think about his words. you were a huge fan of him, at least in this life time, there wouldn't be a reason for you to deny him. he was the bias in your favourite group, after all. his voice interrupts your thoughts.

"oh, so you're a fan of my work?" heeseung asks coyly, leaning in closer. you lean back instinctively, face feeling hot.

"..you can't use your mind-reading thing against me." memories of your dream flash-back to you. mainly when heeseung left you to die, kind of.

heeseung opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. "mind you, you're basically the reason i died, and you bit me twice without my permission."

the teasing in heeseung’s face doesn’t disappear, but it softens. "i'm sorry." he wraps his arms around you, bringing you closer to him. you indulge in his touch, but then he opens his mouth again. "plus, i asked you the second time."

you scoff, pulling away. "if my memory serves me correctly, i said no and you bit me anyway."

a guilty expression washes over his face. "you're right. i'm sorry, baby." the pet-name catches you off guard. especially since it's coming from lee heeseung of all people. maybe this was a dream too, and you were going to wake up disappointed.

"it isn't a dream." heeseung says, sounding a little frustrated. his fingers graze your jaw, before grabbing your face, squishing your cheeks together firmly, but gently. "do i have to prove that to you?"

you're taken aback, eyes widening slightly. his lips are on yours before you can even fully register the meaning of his words. his kiss isn't as gentle as it was previously though. his fangs graze your bottom lip, barely, but still cutting the muscle open. his tongue swipes, licking up any blood that seeps out of the cut. heeseung's hands slide into your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss as he presses your back against the wall.

when he finally breaks away, saliva connecting your slick lips, you're both left panting. his eyes are half lidded, looking at you with clear desire.

“let me make it up to you,” heeseung murmurs, voice low. “let me show you how sorry i am for letting you go. for how much i need you.”

one of his hand trails down your side, resting on your waist. that same cold hand of his slides underneath your shirt, making you flinch as his palms skim over the soft skin of your stomach and ribs. he tugs at the fabric, silently demanding more access to you.

this time, he actually waits for an answer.

you blink in surprise at first, but nod when you see his pleading eyes.

“fuck, you taste so good," he rasps, ducking his head to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. “i’ve wanted this for so long..."

he nips at your pulse point, before soothing the sting with his tongue. heeseung makes no move to bite you this time, simply just sucking hickeys onto your neck as his hands explore your body.

he grabs your hand, dragging you to his living room. heeseung guides you backwards until the back of your legs hit the couch, causing you to sit down.

he follows, settling between your parted thighs. “tell me what you want, baby.” heeseung coaxes, looking up at you through his lashes. “i’ll give you anything."

this was all happening so quickly, you felt dizzy. you snap back into reality. clearing your throat, you realised you were in control here clearly, so you might as well take advantage of it.

when you don't respond, heeseung sighs - before grabbing your wrists, pinning them above your head. "i was trying to be gentle, since i haven't fucked you for centuries, but you make it so hard to resist."

heeseung leans closer, pressing his body against yours. his cock throbbed painfully in his sweat pants, slowly losing self-control with each second. you can't ignore the feeling of his hard-on eagerly touching you, still separated with the layers of both of your clothing.

"i had to wait hundreds of years for this," he whispers lowly, "for you to be under me once again."

heeseung misses your past lives together. he misses the way you used to writhe underneath him, hearing you moan his name over and over again. he learnt exactly what made you whimper, learnt exactly where your g-spot was, and how to make your legs shake. how else did you get off so quickly back in the carriage?

heeseung's hand snakes down past the band of your skirt. you were still dressed in your office uniform, after all. he can feel the heat radiating from your pussy, even your arousal was evident through the thin fabric. "i don't want to upset you again," he begins, he mumbles against your neck, "so, i'll ask this time. will you let me fuck you?"

you make eye contact with him, and all the blood in your body goes straight to your heart, pumping furiously. folding, you nod. "..okay."

heeseung grins, releasing your wrists. you're confused, but then before you can react, you're manhandled onto your stomach.

"what-" you start to speak, but heeseung cuts you off. "shh, just relax." he murmurs, hands gripping your hips firmly, thumbs digging into the soft flesh. one of his hands slides around to the front, going underneath the waistband of your skirt.

his fingers rub against your panties, thumb specifically going for your clit. heeseung lets out a soft groan when he feels how damp you are. "you're so wet for me, yet you act like you don't want this, hm?"

"can you just fuck me?" you hiss, embarrassed. you lift your hips slightly, trying to feel more than just teasing touches, but his fingers don't move.

he calls your name, voice low. "i don't appreciate you talking to me like that." you feel his fingers tangle into your hair, before tugging you backward. "i was going to be gentle with you, considering you haven't taken me in years."

heeseung's hand pushes your skirt up, making it bunch around at your waist. his palm comes down, spanking your ass. "but i guess you're still an eager slut, same as all of those years ago." a soft whimper leaves your lips.

"..why would you even say that?" you grumble, annoyed at the fact that he was not only degrading you, but also comparing you to another version of yourself again. it didn't exactly turn you off though.

his fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, practically ripping them off you. "why would i say that? because it's true." his hand comes back down. "spread your legs." his tone leaves no room for argument.

hesitantly, you spread your legs. heeseung wastes no time, his hand delivering another sharp spank, this time to your aching cunt. he groans at the sound of your startled gasp as a result of it, the noise sending a jolt of arousal straight to his dick.

a shaky sigh leaves his lips, and you can feel his presence step back. "on your knees." he says calmly, making your eyebrows knit in confusion. you look back at him, but he looks dead serious - it's kind of scary even.

you blink, but retreat, climbing off the couch, settling onto your knees. looking up, he's already looking down at you, expression impassive as he tugs at the waistband of his sweats.

your bare knees are already digging into the hardwood floor, making you shift slightly. heeseung reaches inside, freeing his dick - and making your eyes widen at the impressive size.

it was pretty though, in a weird way. his tip was a pretty pink, and a prominent vein went along the side of it.

"..you don't actually expect me to give you a blowjob, right?" you say, dumbfounded. it wasn't outrageously thick in girth, but the actual length of it looks like it could kill you maybe.

heeseung's hand reaches for the top of your scalp, he curls his fingers in your silky hair, gripping firmly but not painfully as he makes you look up at him. "does it look like i'm kidding?"

you gulp, the look on his face told you he definitely wasn't. with a slight tug of his hand, he guides you closer until the swollen head of his dick brushes against your bottom lip. "open your mouth, pretty."

the pet-name kind of eases your hesitance in a way. you part your lips, revealing the pink wetness of your tongue. heeseung applies steady pressure, slowly pushing past your lips and onto your tongue. the taste of his pre-cum floods your senses as he starts feeding you more of his dick, inch by inch.

"that's it.." heeseung groans, throwing his head back, holding you in place as he starts shallow thrusts. the hand in your hair tightens, forming a pony-tail with whatever hair is in grasp of his fingers.

you pull off, gagging when he starts to thrust. you aren't used to this, and his dick is way too big - hurting your jaw. heeseung allows you to compose yourself, reaching down with his other hand to wipe at a stray tear. "too big?" he snorts teasingly, making you glare up at him.

"shut up." you hiss, wrapping your fingers around his shaft again, taking him back into your mouth. heeseung hums approvingly at that.

"that's better.." he praises, moving the hair out of your face. he pants softly, starting to move his hips forward into your mouth. each thrust pushes him further past your stretched lips, the thick head of his dick nudging the back of your throat.

one of his hands remains tangled in your hair, setting the pace, while the other one traces along your jawline gently. that same hand drops lower, grazing over your neck as he feels it bulge slightly around his dick. drool escapes the corners of your mouth, coating your chin and dripping down onto your heaving chest, staining your blouse.

"you're taking me so well." heeseung whimpers softly, hand on your neck moving to your cheek as he strokes it gently. "guess your body still knows who it belongs to even after all this time."

you feel yourself getting light-headed from the lack of oxygen, and so you pull off. heeseung hesitantly lets you, watching the string of saliva that connects your lips to the swollen head of his cock.

"was that too much for you, baby?" heeseung strokes your hair gently, but his tone is nothing but condescending. ironic because the entire time he was trying not to cum as soon as you wrapped your lips around his tip.

his hand reaches back down underneath your skirt as you willingly part your legs for him. heeseung's fingers finding your most intimate area, spreading your slick folds open. "you're even wetter than before," he observes, almost snickering. "did sucking my dick really excite you that much?"

without waiting for a response, he pushes two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your sopping heat, pumping steadily as he stretches you open for him. you gasp, hands immediately gripping onto his forearm in an attempt to stabilise yourself. that makes him grin, leaning in to whisper into your ear. "i'm the only one who can make you feel like this, right?"

you weren't a virgin in this timeline, but he didn't need to know that. you nod at his words, "...yeah, of course." his eyebrows furrow, and at that you remember he can read minds. shit.

heeseung's thumb finds your clit, rubbing firm circles which coaxes more of your essence to coat his digits. his other hand has a bruising grip on your hip. heeseung's gaze is locked onto your face, taking in every micro-expression and breathy whimper that leaves your lips. "maybe i wasn't your first, but you'd be stupid to think i'd let someone else touch you ever again."

the pressure in your stomach increases, but he pulls his fingers out before you can even consider cumming. you open your mouth in protest, but he stuffs his fingers in, silencing you effectively.

he pulls his fingers out of your mouth. heeseung pulls you up and bends you back over the couch, stomach flat against it as he tugs your hips up with his hands. "you're so annoying," you whine, turning your head back to glare at him. "i was going to cum."

"you're about to cum soon, stop being impatient. you're not the one who's waited years." he snaps back, annoyed. heeseung's hand forces your head down into the pillows of the cushion, and that's when you feel his swollen tip press against your wet folds.

heeseung pushes in without any warning, bottoming out immediately, making you jolt as you moan into the pillows. your cunt immediately tries to push out the large intrusion by fluttering dramatically around his length as heeseung stills, letting you adjust.

he pulls your head up by your hair, letting you breathe. it kind of hurts in your lower region, making you exhale. "am i bleeding..?" you whimper out, internally hoping he'll say no.

"a bit, yeah." his fingers reach to your inner thigh, scooping up what you presume to be the blood, and you can hear him lick his fingers - ew. heeseung pushes your head back into the pillows, before withdrawing his hips, only to slam back harder. you choke.

heeseung says something to you, but you can barely register his words with his dick so far in you that you can basically feel it in your throat. he leans forward, pulling you up so your back is against his chest, his hand snaking around to press against the lower part of your tummy.

"nothing to say?" he whispers into your ear, moving his hips up again in a particularly hard thrust, making a loud cry leave your swollen lips. his hand drops further down, cupping your cunt as he rubs your clit.

you can barely stand, resting the back of your head against his shoulder. "..what? i-i didn't hear you." you mumble, tears welling up into your eyes.

heeseung leans forward, kissing the side of your neck. his fangs graze the skin again, but you can't lean away due to his arm on your collarbone keeping you pressed against him. "i said, you wouldn't mind if i take a sip now, right?"

you turn your head in rejection, unknowingly realising that it just gives him easier access to your neck. in turn heeseung takes that opportunity., sinking his fangs into your neck. he doesn't stop moving his dick in and out of you either.

you can't form thoughts as your vision starts to blur, unable to stop choked moans and whimpers from leaving your throat. it just feels way too good, even if this is his way of punishing you - using you like a personal fleshlight of sorts.

heeseung continues sucking on your neck, hand back on your lower stomach, pressing down as he feels himself in there. he pulls away, panting softly in your ear. "are you going to cum soon, pretty?"

you nod, completely putting all of your weight onto him and the couch as you can barely keep yourself up right. heeseung lets you lean onto him, increasing the fervour of his thrusts. your eyes roll into the back of your head as you feel him lick onto the wound he made on your neck.

"..t-that tickles, stop." you mumble out, gummy walls clenching down onto his cock at the feeling of him licking you.

heeseung pushes you back onto your stomach, following you as he pushes his weight onto you. he moves your hair from the side of your neck, kissing your jaw. "but baby, you just tightened up the second i did that." the pace of his thrusts increase, hips meeting against your ass each time. heeseung sucks a hickey onto your neck, licking over it once he deems it as perfect.

you feel lightheaded at this point, and you're on the brink of cumming. heeseung's hand wraps around your throat, applying light pressure there. his mouth moves down, biting your shoulder now. that's your breaking point, making you cum over his cock. "you taste even better like this.." he whines softly into your ear, pulling away from your shoulder.

your thighs shake underneath him, sobbing as you shut your eyes completely. heeseung doesn't stop though, whimpering softly into your ear as he re-doubles his efforts, trying to make himself cum.

"f-fuck," he whines, burying his face into the crook of your neck. every flutter of your tight walls contracting around him made his eyes roll back. your body twitches as heeseung continues, chasing his own release. you could basically feel every vein and ridge of his dick now, feeling extra sensitive because you just came.

heeseung's cock twitched inside you, before you feel him empty himself deep inside of you. he fills you completely, a loud moan leaving his lips at the same time, "i love you...you're mine." he pants out, mumbling against your neck, "you're mine only, nobody else gets to have you but me."

you honestly feel like you're about to pass out, slumping back into the couch. the combination of his rough treatment plus the blood sucking was enough to make you want to sleep. heeseung notices this.

he kisses the side of your cheek, "one more time?" the glare you shoot him afterwards gives him your answer, but heeseung doesn't relent, flipping you onto your back. "don't look at me like that. i'm just excited to finally have you back."

"hey, heeseung.." you call out tiredly, looking up at him. "why haven't you just turned me into a vampire already?" maybe it wasn't possible? who knows.

heeseung stares down at you, his pupils becoming bigger at your words. "..you never wanted me to turn you into one, even though i wanted to." he mumbles quietly, making your eyes widen.

before you can even process it properly, heeseung speaks again, too fast this time, like the words slipped out before he could stop them.

"..do you want me to?"

you blink.

the question hangs between you immediately. you? a vampire? the thought feels strange, almost unreal. you imagine the fangs, the immortality, oh and the blood. but somehow, your brain circles back to heeseung.

to staying beside him. to not dying while he remains exactly the same, waiting for your next return. "..i'm okay with it," you admit slowly. "if you want to, of course."

heeseung stares at you. his hand lifts instinctively, fingertips brushing lightly beneath your jaw before stopping himself halfway.

"you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that."

this literally took me ages and i literally was just gonna keep this in the drafts bc i couldn't stick w a consistent plot line so if there are any loopholes try ur best to ignore them 😭😭 i tried my best to proofread and make sure there wasn't any tho 🫶🫶

i wanted to have a try but im lowkey never writing smut again bc that shit was WAY too hard like there is just sm going on omfg, lowkey the reason this even took so long to write bc i just kept procrastinating it lol😭🤦‍♀️

🤏 was this close to just deactivating during and after writing the smut..

[luckieangel]

i do believe it is quite romantic when your husband kisses the spot above your wedding band. when your husband presses his cool wedding band to your clit and rubs it along your sensitive little bud — when he laughs as you whimper and thrust into his touch. your husband’s touch

[pearlfoam]

when he kisses your puffy pussy so sweetly and says a little breathlessly “my poor baby” as if he wasn’t the one absolutely pounding you into the next week

[kinkyhoon]

WGFT - Lee Heeseung part 2

Pairing: senior!heeseung x loser!fem!reader Genre: slowburn, college!au, smut MDNI, comedy, fluff, socially challenged fem!reader, misunderstanding, he fell first he fell harder, angst? (idk about it but I think you guys will understand when reading) Synopsis: The hopeless romantic you are decided to confess and give a heartfelt letter to your all time crush but fate decided otherwise and made you confess to the wrong person...the so-called womanizer of campus, Lee Heeseung. Maybe you should have just keep your feelings to yourself...or maybe it was a sign from the universe. Warnings: unprotected!sex (don't risk it), swearing, oral (fem!rec), backshots, fingering, softdom!heeseung, first time, instructional (whatever that means) WC: 26k Note: I honestly didn't want to divide it in two more parts so I just posted it as it is...it's fuck ass long I knoooow but please it's worth it :,) Like I said from now on I will try to write more often on the longer format I hope you guys will like it!!!! There’s gonna be a spicy epilogue too so stay tuned!!!!

"You're a disaster...but God help me if I don't want to be a disaster with you for the rest of my life"

🎧Mini playlist : Who knows by Daniel Caesar, Dream by Keshi, Lovers by Anna of the North, Wus Good/Curious by Partynextdoor, WGFT by Gunna

The campus café is a small, cozy establishment nestled between the student union and the art building. You have been here exactly twice before, both times with Yunjin, and both times you have spent more money on a single drink than you usually spend on an entire meal.

Today, the café is moderately busy. A few students hunch over laptops, a couple in the corner have what looks like a very intense conversation about something, and a barista with an impressive mustache wipes down the counter. The smell of espresso hangs in the air.

"Why don't you grab us a table?" Heeseung suggests, pulling out his wallet. "I'll order. What do you want?"

You blink at him. "You don't have to pay for me."

"I'm the one who invited you. It's the least I can do." He tilts his head, that curious expression settling over his features. "Consider it part of the starting slow thing. Coffee first, then maybe a meal, then eventually I'll work up to buying you a gift."

You don't know how to respond to that, so you just tell him your order: a vanilla latte, the most basic thing on the menu, and flee to a small table near the window before your face can betray you any further.

Okay, okay, okay. This is fine. This is manageable. You are just having coffee with Heeseung, the guy who thinks you confessed to him, the guy you have been actively trying to repel, the guy who starred in your extremely inappropriate dream three nights ago. This is fine. Everything is fine.

You watch him at the counter, chatting easily with the mustachioed barista like they are old friends. He laughs at something the barista says, and the sound carries across the café, warm and genuine. A group of girls at a nearby table glance over at him, then put their heads together and whisper. Heeseung doesn't seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn't react, doesn't do any of the things you would expect from someone with his reputation.

It's infuriating.

A few minutes later, he walks toward your table with two cups in his hands. "One vanilla latte for the lady," he says, setting yours down with a flourish, "and one Americano for me. I got you an extra shot of vanilla. You seem like you could use it."

"I could use a lot of things," you mutter, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. "Vanilla is a start."

Heeseung settles into the chair across from you, his long legs stretching out under the table. "So," he says, "do you want to tell me why you were hiding behind a bulletin board earlier? Or should I just keep guessing? My current theory is that you're secretly a spy for a rival university and you're gathering intel on our science department."

"Your theory is wrong."

"Then what's the real reason?"

I was hiding from you, you don't say. I was hiding from you because I dreamed about you eating me out and now I can't look at your face without spontaneously combusting.

"I'm just… very committed to checking bulletin boards," you say instead. "There's a lot of important information on them. Club announcements. Study group postings. Lost and found notices. Someone lost a cat last week. Did you see that poster? Very sad. I hope they found the cat."

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Rambling. You ramble when you're nervous." He takes a sip of his Americano, his eyes never leaving your face. "It's cute. But you don't have to be nervous around me, you know. I'm not going to bite."

The word "bite" should not make your stomach flip. It is a normal word. A mundane word. A word that people use in completely innocent contexts all the time. But your brain, still apparently haunted by the ghost of that dream, chooses to remind you of the part where Heeseung's lips trailed down to your collarbone, and suddenly you can't look at his mouth anymore.

"I'm not nervous," you lie. "I'm just… naturally like this. I'm a naturally weird person. This is my baseline."

"Your baseline is being weird?"

"Extremely weird. The weirdest. I once alphabetized my entire book collection by color instead of author name because I wanted to see what it would look like. It looked terrible. I kept it that way for three months."

Heeseung considers this. "That's not really weird. That's just… creative organizational choices."

"I also talk to my plants. All of them. Individually. I have a succulent named Jason and I tell him about my day."

"That's just being a good plant parent."

"I cannot snap my fingers. I've tried for nineteen years and I simply cannot do it. My fingers make no sound. It's like they're broken but specifically only for snapping purposes."

Heeseung smiles now, that same genuine smile that appeared in the cafeteria when you talked about League of Legends. "Okay, that one's a little weird. But in an endearing way."

Endearing. He called you endearing. This is not going according to plan.

"I should go get napkins," you say abruptly, pushing back your chair. "We need napkins. For the coffee. In case of spills. You can never be too prepared."

Heeseung glances at the napkin dispenser that is already sitting on the table between you. "We have napkins."

"These aren't… good napkins. I need the good ones. The thick ones. From the counter. I'll be right back."

You escape before he can protest, weaving through the tables toward the counter where the barista is busy steaming milk. You don't actually need napkins. You need a moment to breathe, to collect yourself, to remind your heart that it is supposed to be beating for Jungwon, not doing gymnastics every time Heeseung smiles at you.

The barista hands you a stack of napkins without you even having to ask. You clutch them to your chest like a shield and turn back toward your table.

Heeseung is watching you, his chin propped on his hand, his expression soft and curious and completely unguarded. The afternoon light from the window catches the angles of his face, the sweep of his hair, the slight quirk of his lips. He looks like a painting. He looks like something you would pin to a Pinterest board titled "dream boyfriend" and then immediately feel bad about because no real person should look that good while just sitting in a café.

You start walking back toward the table, your mind a whirlwind of panic and confusion and the desperate need to get through this interaction without making a bigger fool of yourself.

And then your foot catches on the leg of a chair.

It happens in slow motion. One moment you are walking, your napkins clutched to your chest, your eyes fixed on Heeseung. The next moment your toe hooks around a wrought-iron chair leg that is sticking out slightly from a nearby table, and your body pitches forward, and the napkins fly out of your hands, and the coffee, dear God, the coffee who's sitting on the table gets knocked off and sloshes out of your cup in a great wave.

Time speeds up again. You hit the floor with a thud that rattles your teeth, and the coffee hits you approximately 0.3 seconds later, soaking through your sweater and your jeans and possibly your very soul. The liquid is still warm, not scalding but definitely not pleasant, and it is everywhere, on your clothes, on your hands, dripping from the ends of your hair, pooling on the floor around you in a sad, beige puddle.

The café goes silent.

You sit there, on the floor, covered in your own vanilla latte, and stare at the puddle spreading beneath you. The napkins have scattered across the tiles like confetti, completely useless now. A drip of coffee rolls down your forehead and off the tip of your nose.

This is it. This is the moment you finally break. All the stress of the past week, the letter, the misunderstanding, the dream, the bulletin board incident has been building toward this, and now, sitting in a puddle of expensive café coffee with every eye in the establishment fixed on you, you feel the tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

You are going to cry. You are going to cry in front of Heeseung and the mustachioed barista and the couple in the corner and those girls who have been whispering about Heeseung earlier. You are going to cry, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop it.

But then you look down at your hands, and you realize something.

His coffee. The Americano. The cup who's been next to yours, you have managed, in the chaos of your fall, to keep it upright by holding it. Your arm lifted it above your head at the last second, some primal survival instinct kicking in to protect the beverage that isn't even yours, and the Americano is still sitting perfectly intact in its cup, not a single drop spilled.

You are covered in latte. Your sweater is ruined. Your dignity is in shambles. But his coffee is safe.

"I saved yours," you say, your voice coming out as a croak. You hold up the Americano like a trophy, your arm trembling slightly. "Look. I saved yours."

Heeseung is already out of his chair, already crouching beside you, his expression shifting from shock to concern to something else entirely, something soft and wondering and absolutely devastating.

"You saved my coffee," he repeats.

"It was a reflex. I don't know why. I don't even like you that much. I mean, I like you a normal amount. A regular amount. The amount you're supposed to like someone you accidentally-" You stop yourself before you can say more. "I saved your coffee."

Heeseung stares at you for a long moment. Then, very deliberately, he reaches out and takes the Americano from your hand. He looks at you, covered in vanilla latte, sitting in a puddle on the café floor, your glasses askew and your hair dripping.

And then he pours his own coffee over his head.

Just… tips the cup over and lets the dark liquid cascade down his hair, over his forehead, along the sharp bridge of his nose, soaking into the collar of his black hoodie and leaving trails of coffee across his skin.

You gape at him. The entire café gapes at him.

"What-" you start, but your voice has stopped working.

Heeseung sets the empty cup down with a quiet click and smiles at you, a warm, genuine, completely unhinged smile that makes your heart do a full backflip inside your chest.

"Now we match," he says.

You can't speak. You can't think. You can only stare at him, this absurd, beautiful, incomprehensible boy who has just poured coffee on himself in the middle of a crowded café for no other reason than to make you feel less alone in your humiliation.

"But… your hoodie," you manage. "Your hair. The floor. The-"

"I have other hoodies. My hair will dry. And the floor can be mopped." He reaches out and gently straightens your glasses, which have gone crooked during your fall. His fingers brush against your temple, feather-light. "You looked like you were about to cry. I couldn't let you cry alone."

"Alone?" Your voice cracks. "You couldn't let me cry alone?"

"I mean, ideally you wouldn't cry at all. But if you are going to cry, I figure I should give you company. Solidarity in humiliation, you know?" He's still smiling, still crouching in front of you, still covered in Americano like it is the most normal thing in the world. "We make a pretty good pair of disasters, don't you think?"

Your heart flips. It doesn't flutter. It doesn't skip a beat. It does a full, acrobatic, Olympic-level flip inside your chest, and you feel the sensation reverberate through your entire body.

Why is he like this?

Why is Lee Heeseung, reputed womanizer, notorious player, the guy everyone warns you about, sitting on the floor of a café covered in his own coffee just to make you feel better about spilling yours? Why is he looking at you like that, with those dark, gentle eyes, like you are something precious instead of the absolute disaster you clearly are?

You don't know. You don't understand. And the not understanding is starting to become a problem, because every time you think you have Heeseung figured out, he goes and does something like this, and your careful mental categories crumble a little more.

"We should probably…" You gesture vaguely at your coffee-soaked selves. "Clean up. Or something."

"Probably," Heeseung agrees. He stands up and offers you his hand, his coffee-stained, still-damp hand and you have no choice but to take it. His grip is warm and solid, and he pulls you to your feet with an ease that suggests you weigh nothing at all. "There's a student services office around the corner. They keep spare t-shirts for emergencies. We could both use a change of clothes."

You look down at your sweater, which is now more latte-colored than its original blue. "That's… probably a good idea."

Heeseung pulls out his wallet and drops several bills on the nearest table, far more than the cost of two coffees with a nod to the mustachioed barista. "For the mess," he says. "Sorry about the floor."

The barista nods slowly, his expression suggesting he has seen many things in his years at the café but has never quite witnessed anything like this.

And then Heeseung guides you out of the café, his hand hovering at the small of your back but not quite touching, and you walk through the student union in matching coffee-stained clothes like the world's most unfortunate pair of twins.

The student services office is a small, cluttered room tucked into a corner of the union building. It is staffed by a perpetually exhausted-looking graduate student who has clearly seen too much in his years of dealing with student emergencies. When you and Heeseung walk in, dripping coffee and smelling like a coffee explosion, he doesn't even blink.

"Coffee incident?" he asks flatly.

"Yes," Heeseung says.

"Both of you?"

"I'm told we match now."

The student stares at him for a long moment, then sighs with the weariness of someone who long ago stopped questioning the absurdities of university life. "We have spare t-shirts in the back. They're not fashionable. They have the university logo on them. You don't get to complain about the design."

"We wouldn't dream of it," Heeseung says.

The student disappears into a back room and emerges a moment later with two folded shirts. They are, as promised, aggressively unfashionable, a mustard yellow color with the university mascot printed on the front in peeling letters. Beneath the mascot are the words "Embrace the process!"

"These are incredible," Heeseung says, holding up his shirt with genuine delight. "I'm keeping this forever."

"The bathrooms are down the hall," the student says, already turning back to his computer. "Please don't track coffee into them. I just had the floors cleaned."

You and Heeseung change in separate bathrooms, and when you emerge, you are confronted with the sight of Heeseung wearing a mustard-yellow shirt that is slightly too small for him, the fabric stretching across his shoulders in a way that is definitely not doing things to your heart. The coffee has been wiped off his face, but his hair is still damp, curling slightly at the ends, and the combination of the terrible shirt and the wet hair and the ridiculously attractive face is so absurd that you actually laugh out loud.

"What?" Heeseung asks, grinning. "Do I look as good as I think I do?"

"You look like you traded shirts with a child."

"A very fashionable child. This slogan will hype me up for my next exam." He looks you over, his eyes crinkling. "You don't look half bad yourself. Yellow's a good color on you."

You are wearing the exact same shirt. You look like a banana. But Heeseung says it like he means it, and you feel that traitorous flutter in your chest again.

"We should go," you say, because standing in a hallway with Heeseung while wearing ridiculous matching shirts is doing something strange to your brain chemistry. "I have… I need to… there's a thing…"

"The mysterious thing," Heeseung says. "Your nemesis. Your arch-enemy. The eternal obstacle to us spending more time together."

"It's a very busy thing. It takes up a lot of my schedule."

"Right." He is still smiling, still looking at you with that soft, curious expression. "Well, before you run off to your very important thing, let me walk you to-"

"There you are, Heeseung! I've been looking everywhere for-"

The voice comes from the end of the hallway, and you know that voice. You know it the way you know your own heartbeat, the way you know the lyrics to every Ariana Grande song, the way you know that vanilla lattes are now your mortal enemy.

Jungwon walks toward you, his phone in his hand and a slight frown on his face, like he has been searching for Heeseung for a while. He looks so unfairly beautiful that your heart does the thing it always does when you see him, that painful, hopeful, aching thing that feels like a bruise that won't heal.

But then his eyes land on you, and he stops walking.

"Y/N?" His gaze travels from your face to your shirt to Heeseung's matching shirt to the general air of disaster that still clings to both of you. "What… happened to you guys?"

"Coffee incident," Heeseung says, with the casual air of someone explaining something completely normal. "She spilled hers, so I spilled mine too. Now we're twins."

Jungwon blinks. "You poured coffee on yourself?"

"Matching disasters. It's a new concept. We're pioneering it."

You want to say something, anything, to salvage this situation. Jungwon is looking between you and Heeseung with an expression you can't quite read, and your brain screams at you to explain, to clarify, to make sure he doesn't get the wrong idea about what he is seeing.

"It's not… we're not-" you start, but your voice comes out squeaky and strange. "The coffee was an accident. Well, my coffee was an accident. His coffee was on purpose. But not in a romantic way. In a… solidarity way. Against the humiliation. We are fighting humiliation together."

"Fighting humiliation," Jungwon repeats slowly.

"Enemies," you say, nodding too hard. "We're humiliation enemies. Humi-nemies. It's a whole thing."

Heeseung watches you with that amused expression again, and you can tell he is biting back a smile. "Humi-nemies," he echoes. "Right. That's what we are."

Jungwon is quiet for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, he smiles, but it isn't his usual warm smile. It is something smaller, something more careful, something that makes your stomach drop even as you can't identify why.

"You guys make a cute couple," he says.

The words hit you like a physical blow. Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. No sound comes out.

"We're not-" you try, but Jungwon is already stepping back, already half-turning away.

"I've got to get to class," he says. "Heeseung, I'll catch up with you later. Y/N… nice shirt."

And then he walks away, and you stand in the hallway with your heart in your stomach and Heeseung's matching shirt still warm against your skin.

"We're not a couple," you say, but it comes out as barely a whisper.

"Not yet," Heeseung says cheerfully, apparently completely oblivious to the emotional devastation that just occurred. "But we're off to a good start, don't you think? Coffee disasters, matching outfits, running into my friends, this is basically a textbook meet-cute progression."

You turn to stare at him. He is grinning, still radiating that unshakeable, inexplicable joy that seems to follow him everywhere. He has no idea. He has absolutely no idea that the boy you actually like just saw you in matching shirts with someone else and assumed you were a couple.

"Are you okay?" Heeseung asks, his smile fading slightly. "You look a little pale. Was the coffee too hot? Do you need to sit down?"

"I'm fine," you manage. "I just… I need to go. The thing. The very important thing. It's calling me."

You don't wait for him to respond. You turn and walk away, not running, because running would be too obvious, but walking very quickly, your mind a tornado of panic and regret and the image of Jungwon's smile fading as he says the words that just shattered your entire world.

You guys make a cute couple.

He thinks you are a couple. Yang Jungwon, the boy you have been pining over for four months, the boy you wrote a three-page love letter to, the boy who poked your cheek in the library and called you cute, he thinks you are dating Lee Heeseung.

You are trapped. You are so, so trapped.

By the time you reach your dorm room, you are practically vibrating with suppressed emotion. You close the door, lean your back against it, and press your hands to your face.

You guys make a cute couple.

"We're not a couple," you whisper to your empty room. "We're not a couple. We're humi-nemies. That's a real thing that I definitely didn't just make up because I can't communicate like a normal human being."

Your room does not respond.

You slide down the door until you are sitting on the floor, your legs stretched out in front of you. You look ridiculous. You feel ridiculous. Your entire life has become a comedy of errors, and you are the punchline.

But even as you sit there, drowning in self-pity and the lingering scent of vanilla latte, you can't quite forget the look on Heeseung's face when he poured his coffee over his head. The way he smiled at you, open and unguarded. The way he said I couldn't let you cry alone like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Why is he like that? Why is he so… him?

You don't have an answer. And that, more than anything else, is starting to scare you.

The library has become your second home.

Not by choice, exactly. More by necessity. The library is neutral territory, a place where you can exist without fear of coffee-related disasters, unexpected bulletin board ambushes, or tall informatics students appearing out of thin air to pour beverages on themselves in acts of solidarity. The library has rules. The library has silence. The library has mercifully dim lighting that hides the dark circles under your eyes from three consecutive nights of restless sleep.

It has been four days since the coffee incident. Four days since Jungwon looked at you in your matching shirt and said those fateful words: You guys make a cute couple. Four days of replaying that moment over and over in your head, analyzing every micro-expression on his face, every nuance in his voice, trying to determine if there was something else there, something like disappointment, or regret, or maybe even jealousy.

You have come to no conclusions. Your analytical skills, apparently, are useless when applied to matters of the heart.

So you do what any reasonable, emotionally overwhelmed STEM student would do: you throw yourself into your studies with the intensity of someone trying to forget their entire life. You have read the same paragraph about cellular respiration seventeen times. You have highlighted so many sentences that your textbook looks like a rainbow has thrown up on it. You have consumed approximately four hundred milligrams of caffeine in the past three hours alone, and your hands shake slightly as you turn another page.

It is fine. Everything is fine. You are fine.

"You're going to burn a hole through that book if you keep staring at it like that."

The voice comes from directly above you, and you jolt so hard that your highlighter goes skidding across the table and rolls onto the floor. You look up, your heart already doing that familiar, traitorous leap, and there he is.

Jungwon.

He stands beside your table with a gentle smile on his face, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his hair slightly messy like he has been running his fingers through it.

"Sorry," he says, stooping to pick up your fallen highlighter. "I didn't mean to startle you. You just looked so intense. Like you were trying to intimidate the biology into making sense."

"The biology is winning," you admit, accepting the highlighter with a hand that trembles slightly. From the caffeine. Definitely from the caffeine. "I've been reading the same page for twenty minutes and I still have no idea what oxidative phosphorylation is."

"It sounds like a spell from Harry Potter."

"That's what I've been thinking! But apparently it's something about electrons and I just-" You gesture vaguely at the chaos of papers spread across your table. "I'm losing the war."

Jungwon laughs, that bright, sunny sound that never fails to make your heart flutter. "Mind if I join you? I've been looking for a quiet spot to study, and honestly, sitting next to someone who's fighting for their life against biology sounds way more entertaining than sitting alone."

Your heart, the same heart that belongs to this boy, that has belonged to him since the moment he slid gummy bears across a library table at 2 AM, screams YES with the force of a thousand suns. Your brain, the traitorous organ that got you into this mess in the first place, reminds you of all the reasons this is a terrible idea.

"You probably don't want to sit with me," you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "I'm not very good company right now. I've been mainlining caffeine and I think I can hear colors."

"That sounds like excellent company." Jungwon pulls out the chair across from you and sits down without waiting for permission. "What colors can you hear?"

"Biology textbook beige, mostly. It sounds like despair."

He laughs again, and the sound settles into your chest like a warm blanket. This is fine. This is okay. You can study with Jungwon without making it weird. You have done it before, you have spent a whole hour in this very library, watching him take notes and push his glasses up his nose and poke your cheek with that devastating smile. You can do it again. You are a professional. You are a master of emotional compartmentalization.

For a while, you actually do study. Or at least, you both pretend to. Jungwon opens his philosophy book and starts reading, his brow furrowed in concentration, his pen tapping absently against his notebook. You stare at your biology textbook with renewed determination, willing the words to make sense.

But your eyes keep drifting up, against your will, over the top of your book, to the boy sitting across from you. The way the library light catches the highlights in his hair. The way he bites his lower lip when he is thinking. The way his fingers curl around his pen, elegant and deliberate.

"You're doing it again," Jungwon says, not looking up from his book.

Heat floods your cheeks. "I'm not doing anything. I'm reading about oxidative phosphorylation. It's very interesting. Lots of electrons."

"Y/N." He looks up then, and his expression is softer than you expected. Gentler. "It's okay. I told you before, right? I don't mind being looked at like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm something worth looking at." He sets down his pen and folds his hands on the table, giving you his full attention. "You have a very particular way of looking at people. Did you know that? It's like you're trying to memorize them. Every detail. Like you're cataloguing things that most people wouldn't notice."

Your heart pounds so hard you are certain he can hear it. You want to say I'm only looking at you like this because it's you. But the words won't come. "That's… that's my STEM brain. I'm very analytical. I notice things. It's a curse."

"I don't think it's a curse." Jungwon's voice is quiet, thoughtful. "I think it's actually really special. Most people don't pay attention like that. Most people look at you and see what they want to see, not what's actually there." He pauses, his eyes searching your face. "You're different, Y/N. You actually see people."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning. This is it. This is the moment. The conversation has shifted into something deeper, something more intimate, and you can feel the confession building in your chest like a wave about to break.

You can tell him. Right now. You can tell him everything, the letter, the misunderstanding, the way your heart has been his since the very beginning. You can clear the air and finally, finally be free of the tangled web you have accidentally woven around yourself.

"Jungwon," you say, and your voice comes out steadier than you expect. "There's something I need to tell you. About Heeseung. About the confession. About everything. It's not what you think. It's never been what you think."

Jungwon's expression flickers, surprise, confusion, something else you can't quite name. "What do you mean?"

"I mean-" You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. "The letter. The one I gave to Heeseung. It wasn't-"

"Wait." Jungwon holds up a hand, stopping you mid-sentence. "Before you say anything else, can I say something first?"

You nod, your heart hammering.

Jungwon leans back in his chair, his eyes never leaving your face. "I've been watching you and Heeseung," he says slowly. "The past few weeks. Ever since he told me about the confession. And I've never seen him like this before."

Your stomach drops. "Like what?"

"Like… happy. Genuinely happy. Not the surface-level people-pleasing happiness he shows everyone else, but something real. Something that goes all the way down." Jungwon's voice is earnest, almost protective. "Heeseung is my friend. One of my best friends. And I know what people say about him, that he's a player, a womanizer, that he'll charm you and then move on. But that's not who he really is."

You don't know what to say. You don't know where this is going. But you can't seem to interrupt, can't seem to find the words to stop him.

"Heeseung is…" Jungwon pauses, searching for the right words. "He's the guy who will stay up all night helping you debug code even when he has his own assignments due. He's the guy who remembers everyone's birthday and always gets them a gift that shows he actually paid attention to what they like. He's the guy who can't say no to anyone, ever, because he's so terrified of disappointing people that he'd rather burn himself out than let someone down."

He smiles, but there is something sad in it. "Girls think he's flirting with them because he's nice to everyone. And he won't correct them because he doesn't want to hurt their feelings. So he just… lets them believe what they want to believe, and then he feels guilty when they get attached, and the whole thing becomes this cycle he can't break out of. It's not malice. It's the exact opposite of malice, it's too much kindness, too much caring, and not enough ability to set boundaries."

Your throat is dry. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I think you're different." Jungwon meets your eyes, and his gaze is steady and sincere. "I think you actually see him. Not the reputation, not the rumors, but the real him. And I think he's starting to see the real you too." He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. Almost fragile. "So I need you to promise me something."

"What?"

"Take care of him. Please." Jungwon's smile is gentle, but there is something behind it, something that looks a lot like pain, carefully hidden, expertly concealed. "He's been alone for a long time, even when he's surrounded by people. I don't think he even realizes how lonely he is. But you… you could change that. I can see it."

The wave of emotion that crashes over you is so overwhelming that you can't speak. This isn't how this conversation is supposed to go. You are supposed to confess to Jungwon. You are supposed to clear up the misunderstanding. You are supposed to finally tell him the truth.

Who knows - Daniel Caesar playing now

But Jungwon isn't finished.

"There's something else I should tell you," he says, and his voice drops even lower, barely above a whisper. "Something I probably shouldn't say. But I think I need to, or I'll regret it forever."

"What is it?"

Jungwon looks down at his hands, folded on the table. When he speaks, his voice is steady, but you can hear the effort it takes to keep it that way.

"I like you."

The words don't make sense. They can't make sense. You hear them, understand them individually, but your brain refuses to assemble them into a coherent meaning.

"What?" you breathe.

"I like you," Jungwon repeats, and now he looks up at you, and his eyes are so full of something, regret, maybe, or longing, or both, that it makes your chest ache. "From the first day of philosophy class. You sat in the front row, near the window, and you had like eight different colored highlighters lined up on your desk, and you took notes so furiously that your pen ran out of ink halfway through the lecture. I remember you made this little frustrated noise and searched your bag for a spare, and you looked so genuinely distraught that I almost offered you mine."

The library. The philosophy lecture. The day you ran out of ink. You remember it, vaguely, distantly, a moment so mundane you never thought about it again. But Jungwon remembers. Jungwon has been watching you, just like you have been watching him.

"I noticed you after that," he continues, and his voice is achingly soft. "The way you always sat in the same spot. The way you organized your notes. The way you bit your lip when you were concentrating. I kept telling myself I'd talk to you, but I could never find the right moment. And then midterms happened, and we were both in the library at 2 AM, and I saw you looking exhausted and stressed, and I just…" He laughs, but it is a sad sound. "I gave you gummy bears because I couldn't think of anything else to do. It felt so stupid at the time. Who gives gummy bears to a stranger at 2 AM?"

"A stranger who hadn't slept in thirty-six hours and was about to cry over organic chemistry," you whisper. "It wasn't stupid. It was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

Jungwon's smile flickers. "I was working up the courage to actually talk to you. To ask you out properly. But then…" He trails off, and his expression shifts, something closing off behind his eyes. "Then Heeseung told me about the confession. And I saw the way he looked when he talked about you. And I knew… I knew I'd missed my chance."

No. No, no, no. This is wrong. This is all wrong. He hasn't missed his chance. The chance is right here, right now, sitting in front of him with a heart full of feelings that have always been meant for him.

"Jungwon," you say, and your voice cracks. "The letter… it wasn't-"

"I'm not telling you this to make things awkward," Jungwon interrupts gently. "I'm telling you because I want you to know. I like you. I really, really like you. And sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I'd been braver, if I'd said something sooner, if I hadn't waited until it was too late." He pauses, and his eyes meet yours, and the weight of what he says presses down on your chest like a physical force. "But I'm glad it's Heeseung. He deserves someone like you. And you deserve someone who sees you the way he does."

"You don't understand," you try, desperation creeping into your voice. "It wasn't supposed to be Heeseung. The letter was meant for-"

"Take care of him," Jungwon says again, and this time his voice is final. Resolute. Like he has already made his peace with something you haven't even realized he was struggling with. "That's all I ask."

He stands up, gathering his book and his notebook, and you watch him with a growing sense of panic. This can't be how it ends. You can't let him walk away without knowing the truth.

But then he pauses, looking down at you with that devastating smile, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes your heart do somersaults, and he reaches out and gently pokes your cheek.

"Boop," he says softly.

The gesture that once made you giddy with joy now feels like a knife twisting in your chest.

"Liking you was never a waste of my time, Y/N," he says, and his voice is tender in a way that breaks your heart into a thousand pieces. "I don't regret it. Not even for a second."

And then he walks away, and you are left alone at your table with a biology textbook you haven't read and a heart that is shattering into so many fragments you don't know if you will ever be able to put it back together.

I like you.

I gave you gummy bears because I couldn't think of anything else to do.

Liking you was never a waste of my time.

He liked you. He liked you this whole time. All those months of pining, of yearning, of writing and rewriting that letter and he has been feeling the same thing. You have been two ships passing in the night, each carrying the same cargo of unspoken feelings, and you have missed each other by a margin so narrow it is almost laughable.

But it isn't laughable. It is devastating. It is the most devastating thing that has ever happened to you, and you are sitting in the middle of a silent library trying not to fall apart.

You don't remember packing up your things. You don't remember leaving the library. One moment you are staring at the spot where Jungwon was sitting, and the next you are walking across campus in the fading evening light, your backpack hanging heavy from your shoulders, your feet carrying you automatically toward your dorm.

And then the tears come.

They start slow, a burning sensation behind your eyes, a tightness in your throat. You try to swallow them down, try to hold them back, but they won't be contained. By the time you reach the pathway between the science building and the student union, you are crying openly, tears streaming down your cheeks in hot, relentless rivers.

This isn't a romantic cry. This isn't the kind of crying that happens in movies, where the heroine looks beautiful and tragic and a single perfect tear rolls down her cheek. This is an ugly cry. A messy, hiccuping, snotty cry that makes your nose run and your shoulders shake and your breath come in ragged gasps. You are crying because the boy you liked liked you back, and instead of ending up together like you were supposed to, everything has gone terribly, irreversibly wrong.

You stop walking. You can't keep going. Your legs won't carry you any further. You lean against the rough bark of a tree and press your hands to your face, trying to muffle the sounds that escape from your throat.

You cry for the letter you sent to the wrong person. You cry for the courage it took to write it, and the cowardice that has kept you from correcting your mistake. You cry for Jungwon, who liked you and gave up on you because he thought you wanted someone else. You cry for yourself, for the hopeless romantic who dreamed of grand gestures and perfect moments and has ended up with nothing but misunderstandings and a heavy heart that breaks into smaller and smaller pieces.

You cry until your throat is raw and your eyes are swollen and you don't think you have any tears left to shed.

And then a voice, gentle, concerned, painfully familiar, cuts through the fog of your grief.

"Y/N?"

You look up.

Lee Heeseung stands on the pathway a few feet away, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his expression shifting from casual curiosity to alarm as he takes in your tear-streaked face and trembling shoulders.

"Hey," he says, and his voice is softer than you have ever heard it. "Hey, what's wrong? What happened?"

You should make an excuse. You should say you are fine, that it's allergies, that you just got something in your eye. You should tell him to leave you alone, to give you space, to let you fall apart in private.

But the words won't come. All that comes out is another sob, and your knees buckle slightly, and then Heeseung is there, his hands on your shoulders, steadying you.

"It's okay," he says, even though he doesn't know what is wrong, even though you haven't explained anything. "It's okay. I've got you."

"No, you don't understand," you choke out. "Everything is messed up. Everything is so messed up and it's all my fault."

"Then we'll fix it." He says it with such simple certainty, like it is the most obvious thing in the world. "Whatever it is, we'll fix it."

"You can't fix this. No one can fix this."

"Maybe not." Heeseung's hands move from your shoulders to your upper arms, his grip gentle but grounding. "But I can be here. I can listen. And I can promise you that whatever it is, you don't have to deal with it alone."

Something in his voice, the steadiness, the sincerity, the complete lack of judgment, cracks through the last of your defenses. You stop trying to hold yourself together. You let the tears fall, let your shoulders shake, let yourself be exactly as broken as you feel.

And Heeseung doesn't flinch. He doesn't look uncomfortable or try to escape or offer meaningless platitudes. He just stands there, his hands warm on your arms, his presence solid and unwavering, letting you cry without asking for explanations or justifications.

After a while, you don't know how long, the tears begin to subside. Your breathing steadies. The storm inside you quiets to a dull, aching calm. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, suddenly aware of how awful you must look, how puffy and red and wrecked.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "Your jacket is probably wet."

"My jacket has survived worse." Heeseung's voice is gentle. "Come on. Let's sit down somewhere."

He guides you to a bench nearby, a small wooden bench tucked under a cluster of trees, partially hidden from the main pathway. You sit down heavily, your legs still shaky, and Heeseung sits beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body but not so close that it feels invasive.

Dream - Keshi playing now

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The evening settles around you, the sky shifting from pale blue to soft pink to deeper purple. A few stars start to appear, faint pinpricks of light against the darkening canvas overhead. The campus is quiet, most students already back in their dorms or the library, and the only sounds are the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Heeseung asks eventually.

"Not really."

"Okay." He doesn't push. He doesn't pry. He just sits there, his shoulder almost touching yours, his presence a quiet comfort in the gathering dark.

"You're not going to ask questions?"

"You'll tell me when you're ready. Or you won't. Either way, I'm not going anywhere."

The simplicity of it, the uncomplicated, undemanding kindness of it, makes your eyes sting with fresh tears. You blink them back, determined not to start crying again.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" you ask, your voice hoarse.

Heeseung turns his head to look at you, and his expression is unreadable. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because… because I'm a disaster. Because I've been weird and awkward and I ran away from you and hid behind bulletin boards and spilled coffee on myself and I can't seem to do anything right. Because you barely know me, and what you do know is mostly just me making a fool of myself."

Heeseung is quiet for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, he smiles. Not the smirk or the teasing grin, but something softer. Something realer.

"Can you guess the movie I've watched recently?"

The question is so random that you blink. "What?"

"A movie I've watched recently. Can you guess?"

"Am I supposed to?"

"No, because I've never told you." He leans back on the bench, tilting his face up toward the emerging stars. "I don't usually tell people. It's kind of embarrassing."

You sniffle, curiosity temporarily overriding your grief. "What is it?"

"To All the Boys I've Loved Before."

You stare at him. "The Netflix movie? The one with Lara Jean?"

"The very same." He doesn't look embarrassed at all. If anything, he looks almost proud. "I've watched it like eight times. Maybe nine. I lost count somewhere around the sixth viewing."

"But… that's a teen romance. That's a movie about fake dating and love letters and-" You stop. "Oh."

"Yeah." Heeseung's smile turns wry. "The parallels weren't lost on me. Girl writes love letters she never meant to send. Letters end up reaching the boys. Chaos ensues." He glances at you sideways. "Sound familiar?"

Your heart does something strange, something fluttery and uncertain. "Why did you watch it?"

"Because Lara Jean is a hopeless romantic who's terrified of actually living the romance she dreams about." Heeseung's voice is thoughtful, almost contemplative. "She's brave on paper but scared in real life. She has all these feelings and no idea what to do with them. And she's convinced that if she actually tries to be vulnerable, everything will fall apart."

He turns to look at you fully, his dark eyes catching the faint glow of the distant streetlamps. "Does any of that sound familiar to you?"

Your breath catches in your throat.

"You write beautiful letters," Heeseung continues, his voice dropping lower. "You pour your heart onto paper because it's safer than saying things out loud. You make graphs about video game balance because you're passionate and detail-oriented and you can't help but go all-in on the things you care about. You talk to your plants and name your succulents and hide behind bulletin boards because real life is scary and rejection is terrifying and it's easier to dream about love than to actually risk your heart for it."

You can't speak. You can barely breathe. He is describing you, not the surface-level you, not the "weird first-year STEM student" you, but the real you. The you that lives in daydreams and love letters and the safety of your own imagination.

"The letter you wrote wasn't just a confession," Heeseung says quietly. "It was a work of art. The calligraphy, the words, the way you talked about noticing small things and finding beauty in ordinary moments, that's not something you write to just anyone. That's something you write when you've been paying attention. When you really see someone."

He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is almost a whisper.

"You remind me of her. Lara Jean. The girl who was so busy dreaming about love that she almost missed it when it showed up in front of her. You are Lara Jean. My Lara Jean."

Your heart races. Your palms are sweaty. The evening has grown dark around you, the stars fully emerged now, and Heeseung's face is half in shadow, half illuminated by the distant campus lights.

"Why are you telling me this?" you whisper.

"Because I think you're scared," Heeseung says simply. "I think you've been scared since the moment you handed me that letter. I think you're scared of what it means, scared of being vulnerable, scared of letting someone actually see you. And I want you to know that I see you anyway. Even when you're trying to hide."

He reaches out, and his hand finds yours in the darkness. His fingers are warm, his grip gentle.

"You don't have to be scared with me," he says. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to hurt you. And I'm not going to stop being interested just because you're awkward or clumsy or you spill coffee on yourself or you ramble about League of Legends until you run out of breath." He squeezes your hand. "That's the stuff I like about you. That's the stuff that makes you real."

You stare at him, your eyes still swollen from crying, your nose still red, your heart still aching from the conversation with Jungwon. And yet, sitting here on this bench with Heeseung's hand in yours and his words echoing in your ears, something shifts. Something changes.

"I don't know what I'm doing," you admit, your voice barely audible. "I don't know what I want. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel."

"Then don't figure it out tonight." Heeseung stands up, still holding your hand, and gently pulls you to your feet. "Come on. Let's get you back to your dorm. You need rest and probably some water. Crying is dehydrating."

Despite everything, the heartbreak, the confusion, the complete emotional chaos of the past hour, you almost smile. "That's a very practical observation."

"I'm an engineering student. We're practical by nature." He falls into step beside you, your hands still joined, and begins walking you toward your dorm building. "Also, I may have done some research on crying. You know, for science."

"You researched crying for science?"

"It was for a psych elective. But also for life skills. You'd be surprised how many people don't know that emotional tears contain stress hormones that need to be flushed out of your system. Crying is literally good for you."

"You're very weird," you say, but there's no bite to it.

"Coming from the girl who named her succulent Jason, I'll take that as a compliment."

You walk in silence for a while, the campus quiet and peaceful around you. The stars are bright overhead, and the air is cool against your tear-stained cheeks, and Heeseung's hand is warm in yours, steady and reassuring.

When you reach your dorm building, he stops at the entrance, turning to face you. The light from the lobby spills through the glass doors, illuminating his features, the sharp line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his lips, the way his dark eyes fix on your face like you are something worth looking at.

"Y/N," he says.

"Yeah?"

"I meant what I said earlier. You don't have to figure everything out tonight. You don't have to have all the answers. But whatever you're going through, whatever made you cry like that… I hope you know you can talk to me. About anything. Even if it's hard. Even if it's confusing. Even if it's not what you think I want to hear."

Your throat tightens. He has no idea how relevant those words are. He has no idea that the thing that made you cry is, in part, him or at least, the situation he is unknowingly caught up in.

"Thank you," you whisper.

Heeseung smiles, that same soft smile that appeared when he poured coffee over his head, when he called you a little mouse, when he listened to you talk about video games for fifteen minutes straight. And then, before you can react, he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

It isn't romantic or it isn't supposed to be. It is brief and soft and chaste, the kind of kiss you might give a friend who is hurting. But his lips are warm against your skin, and when he pulls back, your cheek is tingling, and your heart does that traitorous flutter again.

"Goodnight, little mouse," he says. "Get some sleep."

And then he walks away, his hands in his pockets, his silhouette disappearing into the darkness of the campus night.

You stand there for a long moment, your hand pressed to your cheek where his lips have been, your heart a tangled mess of grief and confusion and something else, something warm and growing, something you don't want to name.

This is supposed to be simple. You are supposed to like Jungwon. You have liked Jungwon for four months. You wrote him a letter and dreamt about him and catalogued his habits and built an entire future around the idea of him.

But Jungwon walked away. Jungwon made his choice. Jungwon told you to take care of Heeseung and then poked your cheek one last time, a goodbye disguised as a signature gesture.

And Heeseung… Heeseung poured coffee on himself to make you feel less alone. Heeseung held your hand and told you that you were his Lara Jean. Heeseung kissed your cheek and called you little mouse and looked at you like you were something precious.

You don't know what to do anymore. You don't know what to feel. The map you have been following, the one that leads straight to Jungwon has crumbled in your hands, and now you stand in unfamiliar territory with no compass and no guide.

You push open the door to your dorm building and walk to your room in a daze, your mind still spinning. When you finally collapse onto your bed, still in your clothes, still wearing the tear tracks on your cheeks, you stare up at the ceiling and try to make sense of the chaos in your heart.

Jungwon liked you.

Jungwon gave up on you.

Heeseung said he wouldn't go anywhere.

Heeseung kissed your cheek.

You press your fingers to the spot where his lips have been and close your eyes.

"I don't know what I'm doing," you whisper to your empty room. "I really, really don't know what I'm doing."

Your room, as always, offers no answers. But somewhere in the distance, you can almost hear Heeseung's voice: You don't have to figure everything out tonight.

So you don't. You let the exhaustion pull you under, let sleep claim you, and try very hard not to think about the fact that the boy who just comforted you through your heartbreak is the same boy who might be slowly, quietly, unexpectedly stealing your heart.

The university, in its infinite and questionable wisdom, has decided that what the student body really needs is a three-day trip to a skiing station.

You received the email three weeks ago, skimmed it with the vague interest of someone who has never skied in her life and has no intention of starting now, and promptly archived it into the dark abyss of your inbox alongside seventeen other emails you will never open again. The trip is optional, after all. Attendance is not mandatory. You can simply stay on campus, enjoy the quiet emptiness of the dorms, and continue your ongoing mission of avoiding all tall informatics students while trying to piece together the shattered remnants of your romantic life.

It is a perfect plan. Flawless. Foolproof.

Until Yunjin gets involved.

"You're going," Yunjin says, standing in the doorway of your dorm room with her arms crossed and her expression one of immovable determination. She has just finished reading the email over your shoulder, and the glint in her eye is the same one she gets when she is about to bulldoze through every objection you can possibly raise.

"I'm not going," you reply, not looking up from your biology textbook. "I don't ski. I don't snowboard. I don't even own a proper winter coat. The heaviest thing I own is a cardigan, and I'm pretty sure it's made of acrylic."

"Then we'll get you a coat."

"Yunjin."

"Y/N."

"I can't go to a skiing station. I have studying to do. I have lab reports to write. I have approximately eight hundred flashcards to review before the next exam. My social life is already a disaster zone, I don't need to add frostbite and potential avalanche-related injuries to my list of problems."

Yunjin steps fully into the room, closes the door behind her, and fixes you with a look that you recognize as her "I'm about to say something brutally honest and you're not going to like it" expression. "You've been moping for two weeks."

"I haven't been moping. I've been processing."

"You've been moping. You've been staring at walls, listening to sad music, and eating instant ramen for every meal. I saw you crying over a nature documentary the other day because the baby penguin got separated from its family."

"That was emotionally manipulative editing! They set it to sad piano music! Anyone would have cried!"

"Y/N." Yunjin sits down on the edge of your bed, her voice softening. "I know about Jungwon. I know he told you he liked you and then walked away. I know you've been carrying that around like a weight on your chest. But hiding in your room isn't going to make it better. You need to get out. You need fresh air. You need to do something that isn't just staring at the same four walls and replaying the same conversation over and over in your head."

You set down your highlighter. "What if I run into Jungwon on the trip?"

"Then you'll be a normal human being about it. Or you'll be weird and awkward, which is your default state anyway, so nothing will have changed."

"Comforting."

"What if you run into Heeseung?"

The question catches you off guard. Your hand stills on your textbook, and you feel that familiar, complicated flutter in your chest, the one that has been appearing more and more frequently whenever someone mentions his name. "I don't know. I haven't really talked to him since…" Since the night he kissed your cheek. Since the night you realized that maybe, just maybe, your heart is no longer as firmly in Jungwon's camp as you always assumed.

"Exactly," Yunjin says, as if your silence has proven her point. "You need to figure things out. And you can't do that if you're hiding in your dorm room subsisting on sodium and self-pity. The ski trip is three days. Three days of fresh mountain air, hot chocolate, and the chance to actually talk to people face-to-face instead of through a fog of depression ramen."

"The ramen isn't that bad."

"The ramen is a cry for help."

You are quiet for a moment, staring at the pages of your textbook without really seeing them. Yunjin is right. You know she is right. You have been hiding from Jungwon, from Heeseung, from the tangled mess of feelings that you still haven't sorted out. The past two weeks have been a blur of avoidance and overthinking, and you are no closer to clarity than you were on that bench under the stars.

"Fine," you say finally, the word escaping before you can stop it. "I'll go."

Yunjin's face lights up. "Really?"

"But I'm not skiing. I refuse to ski. I'll sit in the lodge and drink hot chocolate and judge people from the window like a ghost."

"That's the spirit."

The morning of the trip arrives with a gray sky and a biting chill in the air. You stand outside the student union with your hastily packed duffel bag, which contains exactly zero items suitable for winter sports because your wardrobe is approximately eighty percent oversized sweaters and twenty percent academic stress, and watch your breath fog in the cold morning air.

The bus is already parked at the curb, a massive coach with the university logo emblazoned on the side. Students mill around, dragging suitcases and carrying thermoses of coffee, their chatter filling the air with a buzz of excitement. You spot a few familiar faces from your classes, a group of engineering students comparing snowboards, and your heart lurches, a flash of dark hair that might be Jungwon disappearing into the bus.

Yunjin has already boarded, abandoning you for a seat near the front because she wants to "network with the economics majors" or some other nonsense that you can't relate to. You are alone, clutching your bag and wondering if it is too late to fake a sudden illness, when a voice speaks directly behind you.

"Need help with your bag?"

You spin around so fast that your duffel bag swings in a wide arc and nearly takes out an innocent bystander. The innocent bystander, thankfully, has very good reflexes. He ducks, straightens up, and smiles at you with that familiar, devastating smile that has been haunting your dreams for weeks.

Heeseung.

He wears a black puffer jacket that makes his shoulders look even broader, a gray beanie pulled low over his hair, and a pair of snow boots that actually look like they belong on a ski trip. His cheeks are slightly pink from the cold, and his eyes are bright with that unshakeable, inexplicable cheerfulness that seems to follow him everywhere.

"Hi," you say, because your brain has apparently decided that monosyllables are all you can manage.

"Hi," he replies, his smile widening. "Fancy meeting you here. I thought you said you were photosensitive and couldn't be exposed to direct light. Is snow-light different from regular light?"

"That was a lie and you know it."

"I know." He reaches out and gently takes your duffel bag from your white-knuckled grip. "Come on. Let's find seats together. The bus is filling up."

"I… what… together?"

"Unless you already have a seatmate?"

Yunjin has abandoned you. You have no allies, no escape routes, and no valid excuses. "No," you admit. "I don't."

"Great." Heeseung starts walking toward the bus, your bag slung easily over his shoulder like it weighs nothing. "Fair warning, I'm a chronic window-seat person. I need to be able to stare dramatically at the scenery while contemplating the meaning of life."

"That's very specific."

"It's a lifestyle choice."

You follow him onto the bus, your heart doing that complicated gymnastics routine that it has perfected over the past few weeks. Heeseung navigates through the aisle with practiced ease, nodding at people who call out to him, exchanging quick greetings, but never stopping until he reaches an empty row near the middle of the bus.

"Window seat's yours," he says, gesturing for you to go first.

"I thought you said you were a chronic window-seat person."

"I am. But I'm making an exception." He stows your bag in the overhead compartment, then steps back to let you pass. "Consider it part of the whole starting slow thing. Sacrifices must be made."

You slide into the window seat, your heart hammering, and Heeseung settles in beside you. The seats are closer together than you expected. His shoulder brushes against yours, and even through the layers of your coats, you can feel the warmth of his body. You press yourself slightly closer to the window, trying to create more space, but the universe, in its infinite comedic wisdom, has clearly designed this bus to maximize accidental physical contact.

"Comfortable?" Heeseung asks, his voice tinged with amusement.

"Extremely. Never been more comfortable in my life. This is peak comfort."

"You're pressed against the window like you're trying to phase through it."

"The window is cold. The glass is… nice. I like glass."

Heeseung laughs, that genuine, surprised laugh that you heard in the cafeteria and the café and on the bench under the stars. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"The rambling thing. The nervous rambling thing." He turns in his seat slightly, facing you. "You know you don't have to be nervous around me, right? I thought we established this. Coffee disaster solidarity. Matching shirts. The whole thing."

"I'm not nervous," you lie. "I'm just… the bus is very… bus-like. It's making me feel things."

"Bus-like feelings."

"Exactly."

Heeseung shakes his head, still smiling, and pulls a pair of earbuds from his jacket pocket. "Here. Music helps me relax on long trips. We can share if you want."

He offers you one of his earbuds, holding it out between his fingers like it is something precious. The gesture is so simple, so unexpectedly intimate, that your breath catches in your throat. Sharing earbuds means sitting close enough for the cord to reach. Sharing earbuds means listening to his music, hearing the songs he likes, experiencing something together in the quiet space between words.

"Okay," you whisper, taking the earbud.

Your fingers brush against his, just for a second, and the contact sends a spark of electricity up your arm. You quickly insert the earbud, focusing very hard on not thinking about how close he is, how warm his shoulder feels against yours, how the faint scent of his cologne fills the space between you.

"What are we listening to?" you ask.

"A playlist I made," Heeseung says, scrolling through his phone. "It's kind of all over the place. Some indie, some R&B, some stuff I found on TikTok that got stuck in my head. I'm not very organized with my music."

"That's shocking. I assumed an informatics engineering student would have their music meticulously categorized by genre, mood, and decade of release."

"You assumed wrong. My playlists are chaos. This one is literally called vibes idk."

"That's the worst playlist name I've ever heard."

"It's an accurate playlist name. You'll see."

Lovers - Anna of the North playing now

He presses play, and music fills your ear.

"We should play a game," Heeseung says after a few songs have played. "To pass the time."

"What kind of game?"

"Twenty questions. But the version where you can skip questions if you don't want to answer. No pressure, no judgment, no awkwardness."

You consider this. Twenty questions with Heeseung is a dangerous proposition. There are so many things you don't want to answer, so many topics you have been carefully avoiding, so many truths that are still tangled up in misunderstandings and misplaced letters. But there is also something disarming about the way he offers the terms, no pressure, no judgment, no awkwardness, like he genuinely cares about making you feel safe.

"Fine," you say. "But you go first."

"Okay." Heeseung leans back in his seat, his shoulder still pressed against yours, his expression thoughtful. "What's your favorite movie of all time?"

"Pride and Prejudice. The 2005 version with Keira Knightley."

"The hand flex scene?"

You turn to stare at him. "You know about the hand flex scene?"

"Every person with a functioning heart knows about the hand flex scene. It's cinema history. Mr. Darcy flexing his hand after helping Elizabeth into the carriage because he's so overwhelmed by touching her? Iconic. Revolutionary. I think about it at least once a week."

You don't know what to do with this information. Lee Heeseung, reputed womanizer, hot informatics engineering student, the guy who is currently wearing a beanie and looking unfairly attractive in bus lighting, knows about the hand flex scene from Pride and Prejudice. He thinks about it weekly.

"You're very strange," you say.

"I prefer culturally literate."

"You said you've watched To All the Boys I've Loved Before at least six times."

"That's one of my favorite modern movies. Pride and Prejudice is my favorite classic. I contain multitudes." He nudges your shoulder with his. "Ask me something else."

The questions flow back and forth as the bus winds its way out of the city and into the mountains. You learn that Heeseung has an older brother who he FaceTimes every Sunday, that he chose informatics engineering because he loves the logic of coding but secretly dreams of being a music producer, that he loves Shin ramyeon and has created his own way of eating his instant noodles. He learns that you started collecting highlighters in middle school and now own over forty different colors, that you have named every plant in your dorm room after characters from classic literature, that you once won a poetry contest in high school but never told anyone because you were embarrassed.

The landscape outside the window shifts as the bus climbs higher into the mountains. Snow begins to appear, first in patches, then in sweeping blankets that cover the trees and the slopes and the distant peaks. The sky is a pale winter blue, and the sun glints off the snow.

"Next question," Heeseung says. "What's something you're scared of?"

The question hangs in the air between you, weightier than the ones that have come before. You could give a surface-level answer, spiders, heights, the dark, but something about the quiet intimacy of the bus, the warmth of his shoulder against yours, the gentle music in your ear, makes you want to be honest.

"Being seen," you say quietly. "Really seen. By someone who matters."

Heeseung doesn't respond right away. When he does, his voice is soft. "Why?"

"Because if someone really sees you, they might not like what they find. It's easier to stay on the surface. To be the version of yourself that you can control." You pause, watching the snow-covered trees blur past the window. "I'm good at dreaming about things. Imagining them. Writing them down. But actually doing them… actually putting myself out there… that's the scary part."

"That's why you write letters," Heeseung says. It isn't a question.

"Yeah. It's safer on paper. You can edit a letter. You can cross things out and start over. You can't do that with real life."

Heeseung is quiet for a long moment, and when he speaks, his words are careful and measured.

"For what it's worth," he says, "I've been seeing you for a few weeks now. The real you, I mean. The one who rambles and spills coffee and hides behind bulletin boards. And I haven't found anything I don't like yet."

Your heart stutters. You don't know what to say, so you say nothing, just let the music fill the space between you and try to memorize the exact timbre of his voice saying those words.

The skiing station is everything the brochure promised and more. A sprawling complex of wooden lodges and snow-covered slopes, nestled in a valley surrounded by towering peaks. The air is crisp and clean, carrying the scent of pine and woodsmoke, and the snow glitteres under the afternoon sun like a carpet of crushed diamonds.

You step off the bus and immediately sink three inches into a snowdrift.

"Excellent start," Yunjin says, appearing at your elbow and grinning. "Really graceful. Ten out of ten."

"I didn't see it."

"It's snow. It's everywhere. How did you not see it?"

You extract your foot from the drift and shake the snow off your boot with as much dignity as you can muster. "I was distracted by the scenery."

"Uh-huh." Yunjin's grin widens. "And by the scenery, you mean the six-foot-tall informatics student you spent the entire bus ride cuddled up with?"

"We weren't cuddling. We were sharing earbuds. There's a difference."

"There's really not."

You grab your duffel bag from the luggage compartment and follow the crowd toward the main lodge, your cheeks burning despite the cold. The lodge is a massive timber-frame building with a soaring ceiling, a massive stone fireplace, and windows that look out over the slopes. Students are already scattered across the lobby, checking in, collecting room keys, and making plans for the afternoon.

Your room is small but cozy, with a window that faces the mountains and a bed that looks impossibly inviting. You dump your bag on the floor, plug in your phone to charge, and then immediately find yourself staring out the window at the snow-covered landscape.

Yunjin finds you an hour later, dragging you out of your room and into the lodge's main café for hot chocolate. The café is warm and bustling, filled with students comparing ski passes and swapping stories about near-misses on the slopes. You find a table near the window, and Yunjin wastes no time in grilling you about the bus ride.

"So," she says, stirring her hot chocolate with a cinnamon stick, "Heeseung."

"What about him?"

"You spent three hours cuddled up with him on a bus."

"Sharing earbuds is not cuddling."

"You let him listen to music with you. You played twenty questions. You told him about your highlighter collection and the poetry contest you never told anyone about." Yunjin fixes you with a knowing look. "Those are not casual bus acquaintance topics. Those are I'm emotionally vulnerable with this person topics."

You stare into your hot chocolate. "I don't know what I'm doing, Yunjin. Everything is so tangled up. I started this whole mess because I was too scared to confess to the right person, and now the wrong person has been nothing but kind and thoughtful and unexpectedly perfect, and the right person told me he liked me and then walked away, and I don't know what I'm supposed to feel anymore."

Yunjin is quiet for a moment. Then she reaches across the table and places her hand on yours. "Maybe there isn't a supposed to. Maybe there's just what you actually feel, when you strip away all the expectations and the plans and the ideas about how things were meant to go."

You look up at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you've been so focused on the idea of Jungwon, the letter, the confession, the grand romantic gesture, that you might have missed what's been happening right in front of you." She squeezes your hand. "Heeseung poured coffee on himself so you wouldn't feel alone. He held your hand while you cried. He looked at you on that bus like you were the most interesting person he'd ever met."

"That doesn't mean-"

"Y/N." Yunjin's voice is gentle but firm. "When are you going to stop being scared and start being honest?"

The question hits you like a punch to the chest. Because she is right. Yunjin is always right, that is the infuriating thing about her. You have been scared since the moment you walked into that PC room, scared of rejection, scared of humiliation, scared of what would happen if you actually let someone see you. And that fear has led you into a labyrinth of misunderstandings and half-truths, and somewhere along the way, you have gotten so lost that you can't even see the exit anymore.

"I need to tell him," you say quietly. "Heeseung. I need to tell him the truth about the letter."

Yunjin nods. "I think that's a good idea."

"He might hate me."

"He might. But he also might not. And either way, you'll finally be able to stop carrying this around." She leans back in her chair, blowing on her hot chocolate. "Besides, from everything you've told me about him, I don't think hating you is high on his list of priorities."

"What if it ruins everything?"

"What if it fixes everything?"

You don't have an answer to that. You just sit there, watching the snow fall outside the window, and feel the weight of your decision settling onto your shoulders. Tonight. You will tell him tonight. Before dinner, maybe, or after. You will find a quiet moment, away from the crowds and the noise and the chaos of the ski trip, and you will finally, finally tell him the truth.

Finding Heeseung turns out to be easier said than done.

The ski station is massive, a maze of slopes and trails and lodges that all look exactly the same. You wander through the main lodge, check the café, peek into the game room, and even brave the equipment rental shop where a terrifyingly efficient employee tries to convince you to try snowboarding. You escape with your dignity barely intact and a pamphlet about beginner lessons that you immediately stuff into the nearest trash can.

It isn't until you step outside, squinting against the glare of the sun on the snow, that you spot him.

He is on the intermediate slope, a dark figure against the white expanse of snow, cutting down the mountain with the kind of effortless grace that makes your heart lurch into your throat. He is snowboarding, of course he is snowboarding, because apparently there is nothing Lee Heeseung can't do and he moves like he was born on a board.

You have two options. Option one: wait at the bottom of the slope like a normal person and flag him down when he finishes his run. Option two: try to reach him now, which will involve navigating the snowy terrain between you and the slope, a task for which you are woefully underprepared both in terms of footwear and basic motor coordination.

You choose option two, because you are an idiot.

The path to the slope is a gentle incline of packed snow that looks deceptively easy to traverse. You take three steps and immediately realize your mistake. The snow is slippery, not the powdery kind of snow that crunches satisfyingly underfoot, but the packed, icy kind that has been trampled by hundreds of skiers and snowboarders and now has the texture of a skating rink.

You take a fourth step. Your foot slides. You windmill your arms frantically. Your other foot slides in the opposite direction. For one glorious, suspended moment, you do something that might generously be called a split, and then gravity takes over and you go down in a tangle of limbs and snow and absolute humiliation.

"Y/N?"

The voice comes from above you. You look up, snow clinging to your hair and your eyelashes and probably places you don't want to think about, and there is Heeseung, standing over you with his snowboard tucked under his arm and an expression somewhere between concern and barely suppressed laughter.

"Hi," you say weakly. "I was looking for you."

"You found me." He kneels down beside you, brushing snow off your shoulder. "Are you okay? That looked like a pretty spectacular fall."

"I've had better. I've also had worse. This is somewhere in the middle."

"Your standards for falls must be very high."

"I'm an overachiever."

Heeseung laughs and offers you his hand. You take it, and he pulls you to your feet with the same easy strength he showed in the café, steadying you when you wobble on the slippery snow.

"Come on," he says, still holding your hand. "Let's get you somewhere less treacherous. The beginner slope is over there, it's flatter and a lot less likely to attack you."

"I don't snowboard."

"I'll teach you."

"Heeseung-"

"It'll be fun. I promise." He already guides you toward the beginner slope, his hand warm and solid around yours. "Besides, you came all this way to find me. The least I can do is give you a snowboarding lesson."

The beginner slope is, as promised, much less intimidating than the intermediate one. It is a gentle hill with a slow incline, populated by other beginners who fall over with the same frequency and enthusiasm that you anticipate for yourself. Heeseung finds a quiet spot near the edge, props his snowboard in the snow, and turns to you with an expression of exaggerated seriousness.

"Okay, lesson one: standing on the board without falling."

"That sounds fake."

"It's very real. I've done it many times."

"Show-off."

He grins and proceeds to walk you through the basics of snowboarding with the patience of a saint and the enthusiasm of someone who genuinely loves sharing his hobbies. He holds your hands when you wobble, catches you when you fall, and laughs with you instead of at you when you face-plant into a snowbank for the third time in ten minutes.

"You're getting better," he says, pulling you upright after your fourth fall. Snow dusts his beanie and clings to his eyelashes, and his cheeks are flushed pink from the cold. "That time you almost made it five feet."

"Almost being the key word."

"Almost is progress. Almost is the first step toward eventually."

You look at him, really look at him and feel something shift in your chest. This is it. This is the moment. You can't put it off any longer.

"I need to tell you something," you say, your voice coming out steadier than you feel. "Can we sit down for a minute?"

Heeseung's expression flickers, curiosity, concern, something else you can't name but he nods. "Of course."

You find a bench near the edge of the slope, tucked under a pine tree whose branches are heavy with snow. The afternoon sun starts to sink lower in the sky, painting the mountains in shades of gold and pink, and the air is cold enough to make your breath fog. You sit down, and Heeseung sits beside you, close but not too close, his snowboard propped against the bench.

For a long moment, you don't say anything. You are gathering your courage, trying to find the right words, trying to figure out how to start a conversation that might change everything.

"The letter," you say finally. "The one I gave you in the PC room. There's something I need to tell you about it."

Heeseung doesn't react. He just waits, his dark eyes steady on your face.

"It wasn't meant for you," you say, and the words come out in a rush, tumbling over each other in their hurry to escape. "I wrote it for someone else. For Jungwon. I'd been planning to confess to him for weeks, and I'd written this whole letter, and I asked someone where he was and they said he was in the PC room, and I walked in and I saw someone sitting at the computer and I just assumed it was him, and I didn't look, I didn't check, I just handed over the letter and started talking, and then you looked up and it wasn't him at all, it was you and I was so embarrassed and everyone was watching and I couldn't correct you in front of all those people, and then everything spiraled and I kept trying to tell you but I couldn't find the right moment and then Jungwon found out and I couldn't correct it in front of him either and now everything is a mess and I'm so, so sorry, and I understand if you're angry, I understand if you hate me, I just… I couldn't keep lying to you anymore. You deserved to know the truth."

You stop talking. Your heart pounds so hard you can feel it in your temples. Your hands shake, and you press them together in your lap to keep them still. You don't look at Heeseung, you can't look at him, can't bear to see the expression on his face.

The silence stretches for what feels like an eternity.

And then Heeseung says, in the most casual voice imaginable: "I know."

Your head snaps up. "What?"

"I know the letter wasn't meant for me." He smiles, not a smirk, not a grin, but something gentle and warm and completely without judgment. "I've known since the beginning."

"But… how… since when-"

"Since I read it." Heeseung leans back on the bench, looking out at the snow-covered slope with a thoughtful expression. "The letter was beautiful. Every word of it. But it wasn't about me. It was about someone who smiles a certain way, someone who gave you gummy bears at 2 AM, someone who studies hard during free time at the library." He glances at you sideways. "I've never given anyone gummy bears. And I'm an informatics student, I don't take philosophy."

Your brain short-circuits. "You knew. This whole time. You knew."

"I knew."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"What was I supposed to say?" Heeseung's voice is gentle. "You were so flustered and embarrassed, and I could see you panicking in front of everyone. If I called you out right there, you would have been humiliated. And then I kept waiting for you to tell me yourself, but you never did, and eventually I just…" He shrugs. "I got curious. You wrote this incredible letter, and you were so weird and skittish and interesting, and I wanted to understand you. So I kept showing up."

"You kept showing up because I was interesting?"

"At first. Then it became something else." He turns to face you fully, his expression open and earnest. "You're not like the other people who confess to me. They want the idea of me, the reputation, the image. You didn't even want the real me. You wanted someone else entirely. And that was… refreshing. You weren't trying to impress me. You were trying to get rid of me. It was the first time anyone ever hid behind a bulletin board to avoid me."

"I wasn't… I didn't…" You bury your face in your hands. "This is so humiliating."

"It's not humiliating. It's human. You made a mistake. A very entertaining, very elaborate mistake." He gently pulls your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at him. "And somewhere along the way, while you were busy trying to make me lose interest, I got to know the real you. The one who names her plants after literary characters. The one who writes passionate essays about video game balance. The one who cried over a baby penguin last week."

"Yunjin told you about that?"

"Yunjin and I have been texting. But don't worry she didn't spilled all your dirty secrets."

You gape at him. "You and Yunjin have been texting?"

"She reached out after the coffee incident. Said she wanted to make sure my intentions were good." He smiles, a little sheepishly. "I think I passed the test. She said I was less of a disaster than expected."

"I'm going to kill her. I'm going to kill both of you."

"Before you do, let me finish." Heeseung's voice softens, and he takes your hand in his, the same way he did on the bench under the stars, steady and warm and reassuring. "I knew the letter wasn't for me. But I also know that somewhere along the way, something changed. Maybe it changed for you too. Maybe it didn't. Either way, I wanted to give you the space to figure it out on your own terms."

You stare at him, your mind reeling. He knew. He has known this entire time, and instead of being angry or hurt or humiliated, he just… waited. Gave you space. Let you come to him when you were ready.

"You're not upset?" you whisper.

"I'm not upset."

"You don't feel… I don't know, betrayed? Lied to?"

"Y/N." He squeezes your hand. "You were scared. I get it. I've spent my whole life being scared of disappointing people, scared of saying no, scared of letting anyone down. I know what it's like to be trapped in a situation you didn't mean to create. I'm not going to hold that against you."

The tears threaten again, not the ugly, heartbroken tears from that night on the pathway, but something softer. Something that feels almost like relief.

"I'm sorry," you say, your voice cracking. "I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner."

"You're telling me now. That's what matters."

"I don't know what I feel," you admit. "About anything. About anyone. Everything is so confusing."

"Then don't figure it out right now." Heeseung stands up, pulling you gently to your feet. "We have three days at a ski station. There's a jacuzzi. There's hot chocolate. There's an entire mountain to explore. Let's just… enjoy it. See what happens. No pressure, no expectations, no misunderstandings."

Just like that, the weight you have been carrying for weeks, the guilt, the anxiety, the tangled knot of secrets, begins to loosen. Not disappear entirely, but loosen enough that you can breathe again.

"There's really a jacuzzi?" you ask.

Heeseung grins. "There's really a jacuzzi. I saw it on the map. Outdoor, heated, with a view of the mountains. Very romantic. Very much the kind of thing you'd put in a letter about someone."

"You're making fun of me."

"A little bit. But also, I'm serious." He picks up his snowboard and tucks it under his arm. "What do you say? After dinner? We can go check it out."

You think about it. The jacuzzi. With Heeseung. In a swimsuit. In warm water under the stars, surrounded by snow-covered mountains. It is terrifying. It is ridiculous. It is exactly the kind of thing the hopeless romantic inside you has always dreamed about.

"Okay," you say. "After dinner."

By the time dinner rolls around, you are a nervous wreck.

You have spent the rest of the afternoon in your room, alternating between staring at the ceiling and frantically texting Yunjin for advice. Yunjin has responded with a series of increasingly unhelpful messages:

Yunjin: wear the cute swimsuit

You: i don't OWN a cute swimsuit

Yunjin: wear the one you borrowed from me for the pool party last semester

You: the black one???

Yunjin: YES the black one. he won't know what hit him

You: i don't want him to be HIT i want this to be NORMAL

Yunjin: nothing about your life has been normal since the moment you walked into that PC room. embrace it. wear the swimsuit.

You wear the swimsuit.

Underneath your clothes, of course. Underneath a thick sweater, a pair of jeans, and the oversized winter coat you borrowed from Yunjin specifically for this trip. You feel like you are wearing armor, except the armor is actually a swimsuit, and the battle is against your own nervous system.

Dinner is a blur. The lodge's restaurant is packed with students, the noise level somewhere between "lively" and "chaotic," and you barely taste the food on your plate. You keep glancing toward the table where Heeseung sits with a group of his friends, and every time he catches your eye, he smiles at you, that same soft, knowing smile that makes your stomach do complicated acrobatics.

At one point, you accidentally make eye contact with Jungwon across the dining hall. He sits with a group of philosophy students, and when your gazes meet, he raises his hand in a small wave. His expression is unreadable, not sad, not angry, just… neutral. You wave back, and then you both look away, and that is it. A quiet acknowledgment of everything that has happened and everything that hasn't.

After dinner, you return to your room and proceed to have a minor meltdown.

The text from Heeseung arrives at exactly 8:47 PM.

Heeseung: jacuzzi? meet in the lobby in 10? bring a towel

You stare at the message for approximately three full minutes. Then you type out seventeen different responses, delete all of them, and finally settle on:

You: okay

Just "okay." No punctuation. No enthusiasm. Just the monosyllabic response of someone who is either incredibly chill or seconds away from spontaneous combustion.

You grab your towel and make your way to the lobby. The lodge is quieter now, most students either in the game room or in their own rooms recovering from the day's activities. The fireplace in the main lobby still crackles, and a few people gather around it with mugs of hot chocolate.

Heeseung is already there, leaning against the reception desk with a towel slung over his shoulder and that same gray beanie pulled over his hair. He has changed out of his snowboarding gear into something simpler and when he sees you approaching, his face lights up with that genuine smile that never fails to make your heart flutter.

"Ready?" he asks.

"No," you admit.

"Good. Let's go anyway."

The jacuzzi is on the outdoor deck of the spa building, a steaming oasis surrounded by snow-covered rocks and pine trees draped in lights. The mountains rise in the distance, dark silhouettes against a sky so full of stars it looks like a painting. The air is freezing, the kind of cold that makes your lungs ache, but the water is perfectly, blissfully warm, and when you finally shed your coat and your sweater and your jeans and slip into the bubbling water in your borrowed black swimsuit, you let out a breath you didn't realize you have been holding.

"This is nice," you admit, sinking down until the water reaches your chin. "This is really, really nice."

"Told you." Heeseung slides into the water across from you, his towel discarded on a nearby bench. The lights catch the angles of his face, the curve of his shoulders, the way his hair curls slightly at the ends from the steam. "Sometimes I'm right about things."

"Sometimes."

"Rarely. Occasionally. Once in a blue moon."

You laugh, and it feels good, lighter than it has in weeks. The warm water, the cold air, the stars overhead, the boy across from you who has known the truth all along and hasn't run away, it all feels like something out of a dream.

"I'm glad you told me," Heeseung says quietly. "About the letter."

"Me too."

"And I'm glad you're here. At the ski station. In the jacuzzi. With me."

Your heart flutters. "Me too."

"So what happens now?" Heeseung asks, but there is no pressure in his voice. Just curiosity. Just openness.

"I don't know," you say honestly. "But I think… I think I'd like to find out."

Heeseung smiles, soft and real and full of something you are only just beginning to recognize.

"Then let's find out," he says. "Together."

The jacuzzi is bathed in purple light.

You don't know if it is intentional or if someone just installed colored LEDs and called it a day, but the effect is undeniably, unfairly romantic. The water glows with a deep violet hue, shifting to indigo where the bubbles break the surface, and the steam rising into the cold mountain air catches the light and turns it into something almost magical. It looks like a movie.

A romance movie, specifically. The kind you have watched a hundred times in your dorm room, wrapped in a blanket, dreaming about the day something like this would happen to you.

And now it is happening. And you are absolutely, catastrophically unprepared.

Heeseung sits across from you in the bubbling water, his arms stretched out along the edge of the jacuzzi, his head tilted back slightly to look at the stars. The purple light paints shadows across the planes of his face, the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the column of his throat disappearing into the steam. Droplets of water cling to his skin, and when he tilts his head forward to look at you, his dark eyes reflect the violet glow in a way that makes your stomach drop straight through the floor.

"You're doing it again," he says, his voice low and amused.

"Doing what?"

"Staring at me like you're trying to figure me out."

"I'm not staring. I'm… observing. It's different."

"Is it?"

"It's scientific. I'm conducting research."

Heeseung's lips curve into that familiar smile, the one that is definitely a smirk's first cousin by now, maybe even its sibling. "And what has your research concluded so far?"

"That you're very annoying," you say. "And that the purple light is doing unfair things to your bone structure."

"Unfair things to my bone structure," he repeats, laughing. "That's a new one. I'll add it to the list of compliments I've received."

"You keep a list?"

"Mentally. It's not written down anywhere. I'm not that egotistical."

"Debatable."

He laughs again, and the sound echoes across the water, mixing with the gentle hum of the jacuzzi jets. You try very hard to be normal, to act like you aren't sitting in a bubbling hot tub with a boy who has known your secret all along and has still chosen to be here, in the purple light, looking at you like he wants to kiss you.

And then he reaches for your foot.

His hand closes around your ankle beneath the water, warm and gentle, and before you can process what is happening, he lifts your leg, guiding your foot toward him. Your heel presses against his chest, against the firm warmth of his skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and your breath catches in your throat so abruptly that you make a small, strangled sound that is definitely not dignified. The memory of your wet dream surges instantly, and you mentally thank the purple lights for hiding the sudden flush on your face.

"What are you doing?" you manage, your voice coming out several octaves higher than normal.

"You were floating awkwardly," Heeseung says, like this is a perfectly reasonable explanation. His thumb traces a slow circle against your ankle bone, feather-light and devastating. "I thought you might want something to anchor you."

"My ankle. You're anchoring my ankle."

"Ankles are very anchorable."

"That's not a word."

"It is now. I'm an engineering student. I can invent words."

Your heart pounds so hard you are certain he can feel it through the sole of your foot. His hand still wraps around your ankle, warm and steady, and the position is so unexpectedly intimate, your leg stretched across the space between you, your foot pressed against his chest, his thumb drawing lazy patterns on your skin, that you don't know where to look or what to say or how to breathe.

"You know what's funny?" Heeseung says, his voice conversational, like he isn't currently holding your foot against his heart. "The jacuzzi scene in To All the Boys I've Loved Before."

Your brain, which is already operating at approximately ten percent capacity, struggles to process the shift in topic. "The… jacuzzi scene?"

"Lara Jean and Peter. The ski trip. The hot tub." He gestures vaguely at the purple water around you. "They're in a jacuzzi together for the first time, and Lara Jean is all nervous, and Peter is trying to be cool about it, and there's all this tension because they're fake dating but they're both starting to feel real things."

"I know the scene," you say, your voice faint.

"It's kind of the turning point in the movie. The moment where the fake relationship starts becoming real." Heeseung tilts his head, and his eyes meet yours, and there is something in them, something dark and warm and knowing—that makes your skin tingle. "Funny how we ended up in a jacuzzi too. At a ski station. Just like them."

"Are you saying we're in a romance movie?"

"I'm saying the parallels are getting a little uncanny." His thumb traces another circle on your ankle, slow and deliberate. "The letter. The ski trip. The hot tub."

"Well, technically the parallels are there but it's still different…"

"You're right. At the end of the day we're not in a movie… This is real life."

"Which means…"

"Which means we're in uncharted territory now." Heeseung's voice drops, becoming something lower, something that vibrates through the water and into your bones. "No movie to reference. No script to follow. Just… whatever happens next."

Your mouth is dry. When did your mouth become so dry? You are surrounded by water, and yet every drop of moisture has apparently evaporated from your body.

"That's terrifying," you whisper.

"Is it?" His hand tightens slightly on your ankle, grounding you. "I think it's kind of exciting. Don't you?"

You don't know how to answer that. You don't know how to articulate the complicated knot of fear and anticipation and something else, something warm and fluttering that has taken up residence in your chest. So you do what you always do when you don't know what to say: you deflect.

"You're very smooth, you know that?" you say, aiming for teasing and landing somewhere closer to breathless. "Has anyone ever told you that? The ankle thing, the movie reference, the uncharted territory line, it's a lot."

Heeseung's lips twitch. "Is it working?"

"I'm not answering that."

"That's an answer in itself."

"You're insufferable."

"And yet you're still here." His eyes flicker down for just a moment, barely a second, but enough to make your skin flush. "Letting me hold your ankle."

You pull your foot back, but he doesn't let go. His grip remains gentle, steady, his palm warm against your skin. "I'm not letting you do anything. You just… did it."

"And you didn't stop me."

"I was being polite."

"Polite." Heeseung's smile widens. "Right. That's what this is. Politeness."

The purple light flickers slightly, casting new shadows across his face. The bubbles swirl around you, warm and enveloping, and the cold mountain air nips at your exposed shoulders, creating a contrast that makes every sensation feel heightened. You are acutely aware of everything, the heat of the water, the chill of the breeze, the rough texture of the jacuzzi edge beneath your fingers, the steady pressure of Heeseung's hand on your ankle.

"Can I ask you something?" Heeseung says.

"You're going to anyway."

"True." He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. More curious. "Have you ever done this before?"

"Done what? Sat in a jacuzzi?"

"Been physical with someone. Intimate." He says the words without embarrassment, without leering, just genuine curiosity. "You get so flustered every time I touch you. Earlier, when I kissed your cheek, I thought you were going to combust. And I'm not trying to make fun of you, I'm genuinely asking. Is this… new for you?"

Your cheeks, already flushed from the heat of the water, burn even hotter. "That's a very personal question."

"You don't have to answer. Remember? Twenty questions rules. No pressure."

You are quiet for a moment. The bubbles churn around you. The stars glitter overhead. Heeseung's thumb continues its slow, hypnotic circles on your ankle.

"I've kissed people before," you say finally. "A few times. But it was always… quick. Awkward. Spin the bottle at parties, that kind of thing." You pause, gathering your courage. "I've never had a real relationship. I've never… you know."

"Made out with someone?"

The bluntness of the question makes you choke on air. "I… that's… yes. That. I've never done that."

"Okay," Heeseung says simply.

"Okay? That's all you have to say?"

"What else would I say?"

"I don't know. Something. Most people would say something."

Heeseung is quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then he says, "I haven't either. Much, I mean. I've had my few moments but the amount you can count on your fingers. People assume I have, because of the reputation, but the truth is I've never really… connected with someone like that. I've had opportunities, I guess, but I didn't want to do it just for the sake of doing it. I wanted it to mean something."

The confession catches you off guard. You assumed, everyone assumed, that Lee Heeseung was experienced, that his womanizer reputation was built on a foundation of romantic conquests. But here he is, in the purple light of the jacuzzi, telling you that the reputation is just that: a reputation. Smoke and mirrors. Assumptions built on his inability to say no.

"We're both disasters," you say.

"Absolutely. But at least we're disasters together."

"Disaster twins."

"Matching shirts and everything."

You laugh, and it comes out lighter than you expected. The tension that has been coiling in your chest begins to ease, replaced by something warmer. Something that feels almost like comfort.

Wus Good/Curious - PARTYNEXTDOOR playing now

Somewhere in the lodge, someone has connected their phone to the outdoor speakers. The song that starts playing is slow and sensual, the timing so absurd, so perfectly, comedically timed, that you can't help but laugh. "Did you plan this?"

Heeseung laughs too, shaking his head in disbelief. "I swear I didn't. The universe is just showing off at this point."

"This is the least romantic song that could have possibly played."

"I don't know. It's got a certain vibe." His eyes meet yours, and there is a glint of mischief in them. "Very sensual. Very on-the-nose for a jacuzzi scene."

"It's about-" You stop, your face heating.

"It's about what?"

"You know what it's about."

"I want to hear you say it."

"You're the worst."

Heeseung grins, and the purple light catches the curve of his lips, the sparkle in his eyes, the way the water droplets trace paths down his neck and across his collarbone. The song continues playing, and you are suddenly very aware of how close he is, how the space between you has somehow shrunk without you noticing.

"Come here," he says softly.

"What?"

"Come here. I want to show you something."

Your heart hammers so hard you can feel it in your throat. "Show me what?"

"Trust me."

And you do. That is the terrifying thing. Despite everything, the misunderstandings, the secrets, the weeks of chaos and confusion, you trust him. You trust the boy who poured coffee on his head to make you feel less alone. You trust the boy who held your hand while you cried. You trust the boy who has known your secret all along and has never once made you feel foolish for it.

You move through the water, closer to him, and the purple light swirls around you like something out of a dream. When you are within reach, Heeseung's hands find your waist beneath the water, gentle but sure, and he guides you until you are straddling his lap, your knees on either side of his hips, your faces inches apart.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath comes in short, shallow gasps. His hands are warm on your waist, his thumbs tracing slow circles against the curve of your hips. His face is so close you can see the individual droplets of water on his eyelashes, can count the shades of brown in his eyes, can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.

"Yes," you whisper. "This is… okay."

"You're shaking."

"I'm nervous."

"I know." His hands slide up from your waist, over your ribs, coming to rest on either side of your face. His palms are warm against your cheeks, his fingers threading gently into the wet strands of your hair. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. We can just sit here. We can talk. We can get out and go back inside. Whatever you want."

The gentleness of his voice, the patience in his eyes, the way he holds your face like you are something precious, it makes your chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the realization that you are in very, very deep trouble.

Because this boy, this absurd, beautiful, incomprehensible boy who stumbled into your life through a misplaced letter and a catastrophic misunderstanding, has somehow become someone you can't imagine letting go of.

"What I want," you say, your voice barely steady, "is for you to kiss me."

Heeseung's eyes darken. The purple light flickers across his features, and his thumbs trace the line of your cheekbones, and his lips part slightly, and for one suspended moment, the entire world holds its breath.

"Okay," he murmurs. "But we're going to do this right."

And then he kisses you.

His lips meet yours softly at first, gentle, exploratory, the barest brush of contact. He tastes like the mint tea he had after dinner, and his mouth is warm, and the kiss is so sweet and so tender that you feel your entire body melt into him. Your hands, hovering awkwardly at your sides, come up to rest on his shoulders, and you feel the muscles beneath his skin shift as he pulls you closer.

But then you try to deepen the kiss, and it goes wrong.

Your nose bumps against his. Your teeth clack together with an audible click. You pull back, mortified, your face burning. "I'm sorry… I didn't… I don't know what I'm doing-"

"Hey." Heeseung's voice is gentle, his hands still cupping your face. "Hey. It's okay. Look at me."

You force yourself to meet his eyes, expecting to see amusement or frustration or something worse. But all you see is patience. Warmth. Something that looks a lot like affection.

"Everyone's first real kiss is awkward," he says. "That's normal. That's how it's supposed to be."

"It wasn't supposed to be with someone who actually knows what they're doing."

"Then let me teach you." His thumb traces your lower lip, feather-light. "We'll go slow. You follow my lead. And if at any point you want to stop, just say the word. Okay?"

Your heart pounds so hard you can feel it in your temples. "Okay."

He leans in again, slower this time, giving you every opportunity to pull away. When his lips meet yours, the pressure is deliberate, gentle but firm, guiding you. His mouth moves against yours in a slow, languid rhythm, and you follow, mimicking his movements, learning the dance as you go.

"Tilt your head a little," he murmurs against your lips. "There. Like that."

You adjust, and suddenly the angle is better, the kiss deepening naturally. His hands slide from your face down to your waist, pulling you closer, and you feel the length of his body against yours, warm and solid and very, very real.

"Now try parting your lips," he whispers. "Just a little."

You do, and the kiss changes. Becomes something deeper, more intense. His tongue brushes against your lower lip, a question rather than a demand, and when you open for him, the sensation is so overwhelming that a soft sound escapes your throat, something between a sigh and a gasp.

"Good," Heeseung breathes. "You're doing so good."

The praise sends a shiver down your spine. Your fingers curl into his shoulders, gripping him like he is the only solid thing in a world. The kiss deepens further, his mouth moving against yours with a confidence that makes your head spin, and you follow his lead, letting him guide you, letting yourself get lost in the warmth of his body and the taste of his lips and the steady, grounding pressure of his hands on your waist.

"Now," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, "there's variation. You don't have to do the same thing the whole time."

"Variation," you repeat, your voice dazed.

"You can kiss here-" His lips brush the edge of your jaw. "-and here-" A kiss to the sensitive spot just below your ear. "-and here." A kiss to the hollow of your throat that makes your breath catch and your fingers tighten on his shoulders.

"That's… a lot of places."

"There's more." He pulls back, and his eyes meet yours, dark and warm and full of something that makes your stomach flip. "But we can save those for later. If you want."

"If I want," you echo, still dazed.

"Only if you want." His hand comes up to cup your face again, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

"This is insane," you whisper.

"Completely insane."

"I can't believe this is happening."

"Neither can I." He presses his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips. "But I'm really, really glad it is."

"Can we try again?" you ask, your voice small but steady. "The kissing thing. I think I need more practice."

Heeseung laughs, and the sound vibrates through his chest and into yours. "Practice makes perfect."

"I'm a STEM student. I believe in empirical evidence."

"Then let's gather some data."

He kisses you again, and this time, you are ready. Your lips meet his with more confidence, your hands sliding from his shoulders into his hair, it is soft, damp from the steam, and the way he sighs against your mouth when your fingers thread through it makes you feel powerful in a way you have never experienced before.

This time, when you deepen the kiss, it's less clumsy. It's more natural, instinctive, the kind of kiss that feels like it has been waiting to happen for weeks and is finally making up for lost time. Heeseung's hands tighten on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, and the water swirls around you.

Your hands roam over his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips. Heeseung's tongue teases your lower lip, seeking entrance which you grant without hesitation. The kiss becomes hungrier, more desperate as your bodies press together in the warm water. He has been patient with you, letting you set the pace, never pushing for more than you are ready to give.

You feel something hard pressing against your thigh through the thin fabric of your swimsuit. You pull back slightly, breathless, your cheeks flushed with both desire and embarrassment.

"Don't mind it," Heeseung murmurs, his voice husky with arousal. "It's just a natural reaction to kissing someone I find incredibly attractive."

But instead of shying away, something bold awakens inside you. You've been waiting for this moment, wanting to take your relationship to the next level. Taking a deep breath, you meet his gaze directly, though your words come out in a clumsy rush.

"I want to... I mean, if you want to... I think I'm ready to... do it," you stammer, feeling your face heat up even more. "With you."

Heeseung's eyes widen slightly before softening with affection. "Are you sure? Here? Your first time should be special."

"It is special because it's with you," you insist, trying to sound more confident than you feel. "I want this. I want you. I want to be honest with myself."

A slow smile spreads across his face. "Okay," he murmurs, his hands moving to cup your face. "But we need to prepare you properly. I don't want to hurt you."

His thumb brushes against your cheek as he continues, "Have you ever... touched yourself before?"

You shake your head, feeling a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

"That's okay," he assures you. "I'll teach you. I'll make sure you feel good."

WGFT - Gunna playing now

Heeseung shifts slightly, adjusting your position on his lap. One hand trails down your back, over your hip, and between your legs. Even through the fabric of your swimsuit, his touch sends sparks through your body.

"First, I need to make sure you're ready," he explains softly. His fingers find the edge of your swimsuit bottom, toying with the fabric. "May I?"

You nod, your breath catching in anticipation.

Slowly, his fingers slip beneath the fabric, finding your folds. You gasp at the contact, your body tensing for a moment before relaxing into his touch.

"It's twitching," he murmurs against your ear. "That's good. It means your body wants this too."

His fingers explore gently, learning your anatomy as you bite your lip to hold back moans. He finds your clit and circles it slowly, watching your face for reactions.

"When I touch you here, it should build pleasure." he explains.

He demonstrates, applying a bit more pressure. You can't help but arch your back, a soft cry escaping your lips.

"Like that?" he asks with a knowing smile.

You can only nod, lost in the sensations he's creating.

After a few minutes of this delicious torture, he slides one finger lower, testing your entrance. "I'm going to prepare you," he warns softly. "It might feel a little strange at first, but I promise it will get better."

His finger enters you slowly, carefully. There's a slight discomfort, but as he begins to move in and out, the sensation transforms into pleasure. He watches your face intently, adjusting his movements based on your reactions.

"Does that feel good?" he asks.

You nod, your hips beginning to move in rhythm with his hand.

He adds a second finger, stretching you further. "You're so tight," he groans. "I can't wait to be inside you."

His words send another wave of desire through you. His thumb returns to your clit, rubbing in circles as his fingers continue their work inside you. The dual stimulation is overwhelming in the best way possible.

"Heeseung," you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

"I know, little mouse," he murmurs, kissing you deeply. "Let it build. Don't fight it."

The pleasure intensifies, coiling in your stomach like a spring. Your movements become more erratic as you chase the feeling building within you.

"That's it," he encourages. "Good girl"

With a cry, you shatter, waves of pleasure washing over you. Heeseung continues his movements, drawing out your orgasm until you collapse against his chest, trembling and breathless.

"You're so beautiful when you come," he whispers, kissing your forehead. "Can you do more?"

You can only nod, still recovering from the intensity of your first orgasm with someone else.

He slides down his shorts slightly just to reveal his already hard cock and slides your swimsuit to the side. His hands move to your hips, and you begin to grind against him instinctively. The water sloshes around you as you move, his lenght sliding between your folds, creating a delicious friction under the water. Lost in the moment, you shift your hips, trying to get closer, to feel more of him.

Suddenly, you both freeze as you feel him slip inside you. There's a sharp pain, followed by a sense of fullness that takes your breath away. Your eyes widen in shock as you look at Heeseung, whose expression mirrors your surprise.

"Oh my god," he gasps, his hands tightening on your hips. "I... I didn't mean for that to happen. Are you okay?"

You nod, still processing what just happened. The initial pain is already fading, replaced by a strange mix of discomfort and pleasure.

"I'm so sorry," Heeseung continues, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I should have been more careful. I didn't..."

As he stammers through an apology, you can't help but let out a small laugh. The absurdity of the situation , your first time happening so accidentally, so clumsily, suddenly strikes you as hilarious.

Heeseung looks at you in confusion before a smile breaks across his face. "You're laughing?"

"We're so clumsy," you giggle, the tension breaking between you. "All that careful preparation and then..."

He joins in your laughter, the moment transforming from awkward to intimate. "Well," he says once the laughter subsides, "since we're already here... are you okay to continue? We can stop if you want."

You shake your head, a new determination filling you. "No, I want to continue. Show me what to do."

Heeseung's expression softens with affection. "Okay," he murmurs, his hands guiding your hips. "Just relax and let me do the work. Move with me, but let me lead."

He begins to move slowly, guiding you in a gentle rhythm. The water sloshes around you as you find a pace together. With each thrust, pleasure builds, different from before but just as intense.

"You feel so good," Heeseung groans, his control beginning to slip. "So tight around me."

His praise only heightens your arousal. You try to meet his movements with your own, but your motions are awkward and uncoordinated. You feel clumsy, unsure of exactly how to move to maximize pleasure for both of you.

"Don't worry about doing it perfectly," Heeseung reassures you, noticing your frustration. "Just feel. Let your body respond naturally."

He adjusts your position slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. A gasp escapes your lips as he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

"There," he murmurs, repeating the movement. "How does that feel?"

"Amazing," you breathe, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

Heeseung's hands roam your body, caressing your breasts, your back, your hips. His mouth finds your neck, sucking gently at your pulse point. Marking you as his.

"I've wanted this since the moment we got in the jacuzzi," he admits between kisses. "But I was too scared you would run away if I decided to act up."

"I want it," you assure him, your voice breathy with pleasure. "I want all of you. I'm not scared anymore."

Your words seem to unleash something in him. His movements become more deliberate, more purposeful as he chases his own release. One hand moves between your legs again, finding your clit and rubbing in time with his thrusts.

The dual stimulation quickly pushes you toward another orgasm. "Heeseung," you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"I know," he groans. "Come with me this time."

His words are all it takes to push you over the edge. As you clench around him, Heeseung finds his own release, burying his face in your neck with a guttural moan.

For a moment, you stay connected, catching your breath as the water continues to bubble around you. Heeseung presses soft kisses to your shoulders, your neck, your cheeks.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, pulling back to look at you.

You nod, a contented smile spreading across your face. "Better than okay. That was..."

"Incredible," he finishes for you, returning your smile. "You're incredible."

As you slowly separate, Heeseung adjusts your swimsuit back into place before

As you both recover in the warm bubbling water, you notice something pressing against your thigh again. You glance down and see that Heeseung is already getting hard once more. A blush spreads across your cheeks as you meet his eyes.

"Already?" you ask with a small laugh.

Heeseung grins, a hint of embarrassment in his expression. "I can't help it," he admits. "You feel so good, and I've wanted this for so long. My body seems to have a mind of its own around you."

A boldness takes hold of you, spurred by the confidence your first time gave you. "If you want to do it again... your way this time... I don't mind," you say, trying to sound casual despite the flutter in your stomach.

Heeseung's eyes darken with desire at your words. Without warning, he pounces, lifting you effortlessly from his lap. He carries you to the edge of the jacuzzi and gently sets you down on the edge. The contrast between the warm water and the cool air sends a shiver through your body.

"My way?" he asks, his voice husky with arousal. "I like the sound of that."

He kneels in the water between your legs, his hands spreading your thighs apart. His eyes never leave yours as he leans forward, pressing soft kisses to your inner thigh. You watch, mesmerized, as he works his way upward, leaving a trail of fire on your skin.

When he reaches your core, he pauses, his breath warm against your most sensitive flesh. "I've wanted to taste you since the first time I saw you in that swimsuit," he confesses, his voice low and intimate.

Then he dives in, his tongue exploring your folds. You gasp, your hands flying to his hair as waves of pleasure wash over you. Heeseung maintains eye contact as he eats you out, his dark eyes watching your every reaction, learning what makes you moan, what makes you arch your back.

"You taste so sweet," he murmurs against you before returning to his task, his tongue circling your clit before dipping inside you.

The sensations are overwhelming, building quickly toward another orgasm. Heeseung seems to sense your approaching release and redoubles his efforts, adding his fingers to the mix, curling them inside you as he continues to lavish attention on your clit.

"Heeseung," you cry out, your hips bucking against his face. "Please don't stop."

He doesn't. Instead, he increases his pace, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony until you shatter, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash over you. He continues his ministrations, drawing out your orgasm until you're trembling and breathless.

Only then does he pull back, a triumphant grin on his face as he licks his lips. "Delicious," he declares, rising from the water.

He kisses his way up your body, over your stomach, between your breasts, along your collarbone, up your neck, until finally his lips claim yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue as the kiss deepens, passionate and hungry.

Without breaking the kiss, Heeseung positions himself at your entrance. This time, there's no accidental slip, he enters you deliberately, slowly, filling you completely. You moan into his mouth at the exquisite stretch and fullness.

He begins to move, his hips thrusting in a deep, slow rhythm that drives you wild. Each stroke is measured and controlled, hitting all the right spots. His movements are faster and harder than before, but still gentle, still considerate of your inexperience.

"You feel incredible," he groans, his voice thick with pleasure. "You're taking it well."

His hands roam your body as he moves, caressing your breasts, your hips, your thighs. His mouth finds your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he whispers praises and encouragements.

"You're doing so well," he murmurs. "Taking me so deep. You feel amazing wrapped around me."

His words only heighten your arousal, pushing you closer to another peak. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, matching his rhythm as best you can despite your inexperience.

After a few minutes, Heeseung pulls out gently. "Turn around," he commands softly.

You obey, positioning hands at the edge of the jacuzzi. He enters you from behind, this new angle allowing him to reach even deeper inside you. You cry out at the intensity of the sensation.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice strained with restraint.

"More than okay," you manage to gasp. "Don't stop."

He resumes his movements, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusts into you. The water sloshes with each movement, adding to the sensory experience. Heeseung's pace increases, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he chases his release.

His moans fill the night air, raw and uninhibited. "I'm getting close," he warns. "Where do you want me?"

"Inside me," you answer without hesitation.

Heeseung hesitates for a moment. "Are you sure? We didn't use anything."

Your mind races for a second before you respond, "I'm on the pill. It's okay."

With a groan of relief, Heeseung continues his movements, his pace becoming erratic as he approaches his climax. With one final deep thrust, he buries himself inside you, his body trembling as he finds his release.

For a moment, he stays inside you. Then he pulls out gently and helps you turn back over. He leans to slowly kiss you while stroking himself a few times before releasing again onto your stomach, warm and sticky.

You look at him in surprise.

"I couldn't," he explains, noticing your confusion. "I couldn't resist, I wanted to see you covered of me."

He reaches for a nearby towel, gently cleaning your stomach before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Next time," he promises, "I'll be more gentle. We'll take our time, explore everything properly."

"There's going to be a next time?" you ask with a smile.

Heeseung grins, pulling you into his arms. "Oh, there's definitely going to be a next time. And a time after that, and after that... I'm never getting enough of you."

The walk back to your room feels like floating.

Not literally, of course, your feet are very much on the ground, leaving wet footprints on the wooden floorboards of the lodge hallway, but your mind is somewhere else entirely. Somewhere purple-lit and steaming, somewhere filled with the taste of mint tea and the feeling of warm hands on your waist and the sound of Heeseung's voice murmuring instructions against your lips.

You have had sex. In a jacuzzi. Under the stars. With Lee Heeseung.

The hopeless romantic inside you does cartwheels. The realistic part of your brain is still buffering, stuck on a loading screen that says "please wait while we process what just happened." Your body is somewhere in between, pleasantly warm despite the cold air, tingling in places you hadn't known could tingle, wrapped in your borrowed coat and your towel and the lingering sensation of his skin against yours.

Heeseung walks beside you, his hand intertwined with yours. He hums softly, and when he catches you looking at him, he smiles that devastating smile and squeezes your hand.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing. Just… processing."

"Processing what?"

"Everything." You gesture vaguely with your free hand. "The conversation. The jacuzzi. The… everything after the conversation."

"The everything after the conversation," he repeats, his smile widening. "Very descriptive."

"I'm a STEM student, not a poet."

"You wrote a three-page love letter with calligraphy. You're absolutely a poet."

"That was a one-time thing. A fluke. I've since retired from poetry."

"Tragic. The literary world has lost a great talent."

You reach your door, and Heeseung stops, turning to face you.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and his voice is gentle. "Really okay? That was… a lot. I know it was a lot. And I want to make sure you're not freaking out."

"I am absolutely freaking out," you admit. "But in a good way. I think. It's hard to tell. My brain is still catching up."

"Good freak-out or bad freak-out?"

"Good. Definitely good. Just… overwhelming." You pause, searching for the right words. "It wasn't how I imagined my first time would be. It was awkward and clumsy and it accidentally went in, and I'm pretty sure I made some very weird sounds, and-"

"It was perfect," Heeseung interrupts softly. "It was real. It was you. That's all I want."

Your heart, which has already been through approximately seventeen different emotional states in the past hour, does another complicated flip. "You're very good at saying the right thing."

"I'm not trying to say the right thing. I'm just telling you the truth." He reaches up and tucks a damp strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your temple. "You're amazing, Y/N. And I'm not saying that because of what just happened. I'm saying it because it's been true since the moment you walked into that PC room and handed me a letter that wasn't meant for me."

"You're going to make me cry again."

"Please don't. I've seen you cry twice now, and both times it made me want to fight whoever made you sad. I can't fight myself. That's a conflict of interest."

You laugh, and it comes out a little watery. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm aware." He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, soft, gentle, lingering. "Goodnight, little mouse. Get some sleep."

"Goodnight, Heeseung."

He pulls back, his hand slipping from yours, and walks backward down the hallway for a few steps, still smiling at you. "Dream about me."

"I make no promises."

"I'll take that as confirmation."

He turns the corner and disappears, and you are left standing in front of your door with the lingering warmth of the best night of your life.

The moment you step into your room, Yunjin is on you like a hawk on a field mouse.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"

You close the door behind you, leaning against it with a dazed expression. Yunjin sits cross-legged on her bed, her phone in her hand, a half-eaten bag of chips on the nightstand. Her eyes are wide, her expression a mixture of curiosity and accusation.

"The jacuzzi," you say faintly.

"For three hours?"

"Was it three hours? It doesn't feel like three hours."

"Y/N." Yunjin shuts her laptop with a decisive click. "You're wearing a towel. Your hair is wet. You have that look on your face, the one that says I just did something and I don't know how to process it. Spill. Now. Every detail."

You push yourself off the door and collapse onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"We had sex," you say.

"What?!"

"We had sex, don't make me repeat it please or I'm gonna die…"

Yunjin is silent for exactly two seconds. Then: "YOU GUYS FUCKED?"

"Yeah…"

"IN THE JACUZZI?"

"There aren't exactly a lot of alternative locations. The water is warm. There's purple lighting. It's very atmospheric."

Yunjin scrambles off her bed and crosses the room in three steps, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you upright. "I need details. I need all the details. How did it happen? Who initiated it? Was it good? Was he good? Did he-"

"Yunjin!" You press your hands to your burning cheeks. "I can't just… I don't know how to-"

"Start from the beginning. The jacuzzi. What happened?"

You take a deep breath, gathering your scattered thoughts, and then the words start tumbling out of you as you tell her everything.

Yunjin is quiet for a moment, processing. Then she lets out a long breath. "So your first time was in a jacuzzi, under the stars, with a hot informatics engineering student who knew you'd accidentally confessed to the wrong person and liked you anyway."

"That's… yeah. That's basically the summary."

"And you're telling me you're still worried this is some kind of disaster?"

"I'm not worried," you say slowly. "I'm just… confused. About what we are. We don't exactly have the what are we conversation. We just kind of… had sex. And now I don't know if we're dating, or if it was a one-time thing, or if he's going to wake up tomorrow and realize he made a huge mistake and-"

"Stop." Yunjin holds up a hand. "Just stop. I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to actually hear it."

"I'm listening."

"Lee Heeseung has known your secret for weeks. He's seen you at your absolute worst, hiding behind bulletin boards, choking on lettuce, spilling coffee all over yourself, crying on a bench in the middle of the night. He's seen you ramble about video games until you run out of breath, and he's seen you face-plant in the snow eight times in one afternoon. And after all of that, he still chooses to spend three hours in a jacuzzi with you and make sure your first time is special and safe and good."

Yunjin leans forward, her expression intense. "That's not the behavior of a guy who's going to wake up tomorrow and change his mind. That's the behavior of a guy who is completely, thoroughly, absolutely gone for you."

The words settle into your chest. "You really think so?"

"I know so. And I think you know so too. You're just scared to admit it because admitting it means this is real, and real is scary."

"When did you get so wise about relationships?"

"I've been watching you be a disaster for months. I've picked up a few things."

You laugh, and it comes out lighter than you expected. "So what do I do?"

"Tomorrow, you go find him. You see how he acts. And if he acts like nothing's changed except that he's even happier to see you than usual, then you'll have your answer."

"And if he acts weird?"

"Then I'll key his snowboard."

"Yunjin!"

"Kidding. Mostly." She grins and flops back onto her bed. "Now go to sleep. You've had a big night. You need rest. And honestly, I need time to process the fact that my best friend had a romantic jacuzzi rendezvous while I was sitting here eating chips and doomscrolling on TikTok."

"You could have come to the jacuzzi."

"And interrupt whatever is happening between you two? I'm a good friend, not a saint. I'd be third-wheeling so hard I'd need a snowplow to get out."

You laugh again, and for the first time in weeks, you feel light. Unburdened. Like the weight you've been carrying since the moment you walked into that PC room has finally been lifted.

"Goodnight, Yunjin."

"Goodnight, you absolute disaster of a human being. Dream about your hot engineer boy."

"He's not my-"

"Yet. He's not your boy yet. But I give it twenty-four hours."

You throw a pillow at her. She catches it and tucks it under her head with a satisfied grin.

The next morning, you wake up with a start, your heart racing. Dreams of purple light and warm water and hands on your waist and a voice murmuring good girl, you're doing so good against your lips haunt your memory.

You press your face into your pillow and scream.

It is a happy scream, mostly. A disbelieving, giddy scream. But it is also a nervous scream, because in approximately one hour, you are going to have to go downstairs and face Heeseung in the cold light of day, and you have absolutely no idea how that is going to go.

Would he be awkward? Would he be distant? Would he pretend nothing happened? Would he-

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Heeseung: good morning little mouse. breakfast in 30?

You stare at the message for a solid ten seconds. Then you type back:

You: okay

Heeseung: you're very eloquent in the morning

You: i haven't had caffeine yet

Heeseung: i'll have a vanilla latte waiting for you. extra shot of vanilla. just like last time

Heeseung: hopefully with less spilling this time

You: no promises

You get dressed in a daze, pulling on approximately four layers of clothing because you still don't own proper winter gear and the borrowed coat can only do so much. Yunjin is already gone, she has left a note on the nightstand that says went to find the economics majors. don't do anything I wouldn't do. (do everything I wouldn't do), so you are alone with your thoughts as you make your way down to the lodge's dining hall.

You spot Heeseung immediately. He sits at a table near the window, two cups of coffee in front of him, his hair still slightly messy from sleep. When he sees you approaching, his entire face lights up.

"There you are," he says, standing up and pulling out a chair for you. "I was starting to think you'd bailed."

"On breakfast?"

"On me. On this. On everything." He says it lightly, but there is a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a tiny crack in his usual confident demeanor. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me this morning, or if you'd need space, or-"

"Hey." You reach out and touch his hand, just briefly. "I'm here. I want to see you."

The relief that washes over his face is so genuine, so unguarded, that your heart clenches. "Okay. Good. That's… good."

You sit down, and he slides the vanilla latte toward you. Your fingers brush as you take the cup, and the contact sends a spark of electricity up your arm. You both pretend not to notice, but the way Heeseung's ears turn slightly pink suggests he feels it too.

"So," you say, taking a sip of your latte to give yourself something to do with your hands. "Breakfast."

"Breakfast," he agrees. "Eggs. Bacon. Possibly a pastry if we're feeling adventurous."

"Very adventurous."

"I'm a risk-taker."

You try to eat normally. You really do. But every time you look up from your plate, Heeseung looks at you with that soft, wondering expression, and you forget how to chew, and you end up staring at him with a piece of toast halfway to your mouth like you've been frozen in time.

"You're doing it again," he says.

"Doing what?"

"The staring thing. The I'm trying to figure you out thing."

"I'm not trying to figure you out. I already figured you out. You're a people-pleaser who can't say no and you have a secret soft spot for romantic comedies."

"Then what are you thinking about?"

You set down your toast. "I'm thinking about last night. And what it means. And what we are now."

Heeseung's expression shifts, becoming more serious. "Do you want to have that conversation? The what are we conversation?"

"I don't know. Do you?"

"I asked you first."

"That's very mature."

"I have my moments." He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Look, I know we did things kind of backwards. Most people start with coffee and work their way up to jacuzzis. We started with a misplaced love letter and somehow ended up in a hot tub under the stars. It's not exactly a conventional timeline."

"When has anything about us been conventional?"

"Fair point." He reaches across the table and takes your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "I don't know what we are. Labels feel… complicated. But I know what I want us to be."

"What's that?"

"Something real. Something that isn't built on misunderstandings or accidents or letters that weren't meant for me. Something that's just… us. Figuring it out together."

Your heart does that fluttering thing again. "That sounds terrifying."

"I know. But you've been scared this whole time, and you've still kept showing up. That's the bravest thing I've ever seen."

"I haven't felt brave. I've felt like a disaster."

"Disasters can be brave. The two aren't mutually exclusive." He squeezes your hand. "So what do you say? Want to be brave together?"

You look at him, really look at him, and see the boy who poured coffee on his head, the boy who held you while you cried, the boy who knew your secret and waited for you to tell him in your own time. And you feel the fear, familiar and insistent, coiling in your stomach.

But beneath the fear, there is something else. Something warmer. Something that feels a lot like hope.

"Okay," you say. "Let's be brave together."

Heeseung smiles, real and open and devastating. "Okay."

The afternoon finds you back on the beginner slope, strapped into a snowboard and wondering how you let Heeseung talk you into this again.

"You said you wanted to practice," he reminds you, tightening the bindings on your boots. "Snowboarding, I mean. Not… other things."

"My entire body is sore from yesterday. Both from the snowboarding and from the… other things."

"Then we'll take it slow. No jumps, no tricks, just a gentle run down the beginner hill." He stands up and offers you his hand. "I'll be right there the whole time."

"You said that yesterday, and I still fell eight times."

"And you got up eight times. That's the important part."

You take his hand and let him pull you to your feet. The beginner slope stretches out before you, populated by other beginners who fall over with roughly the same frequency as you.

"Okay," you say, taking a deep breath. "Okay. I can do this. I'm a capable human being. I understand physics. Snowboarding is just physics with extra steps."

"That's the spirit."

"I'm going to fall."

"Probably."

"And you're going to catch me?"

"Always."

The word hangs in the air between you, heavier than it should be. Always. Not just on the ski slope, but everywhere. Always.

"Okay," you whisper. "Let's go."

You push off.

The first few seconds are wobbly, your balance shifts, your arms flail slightly, your heart pounds in your ears. But then something clicks. Your body remembers the lessons from yesterday, the way Heeseung taught you to lean into the turns, to keep your weight centered, to trust the board beneath your feet.

You pick up speed, and instead of panicking, you lean into it. The wind rushes past your face, cold and exhilarating.

And then, miraculously, impossibly, you reach the bottom of the slope without falling.

"I DID IT!" you scream, your voice echoing across the mountain. "I DID IT! I SNOWBOARDED!"

You are laughing, giddy with adrenaline and triumph, and you turn around to find Heeseung, to share this moment with him, to see the proud expression on his face.

But Heeseung isn't at the bottom of the slope.

He is still at the top.

And he is shouting something.

"Y/N! Y/N L/N!"

The entire slope seems to go quiet. Other skiers and snowboarders slow down, turning to look at the boy standing at the top of the beginner hill, his hands cupped around his mouth, his voice carrying across the snow with startling clarity.

"I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY!"

Your heart stops. Then starts again, twice as fast.

"I'VE BEEN TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO SAY THIS FOR WEEKS!" Heeseung shouts. "AND I REALIZED THAT THE BEST WAY TO TELL YOU IS THE SAME WAY YOU TOLD ME, WITH WORDS THAT I CAN'T TAKE BACK!"

People are staring. Everyone is staring.

"LEE HEESEUNG, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" you shout back, your voice cracking.

"I'M CONFESSING!" he yells. "PROPERLY! IN FRONT OF EVERYONE! BECAUSE YOU DESERVE A CONFESSION THAT'S JUST FOR YOU! YOU DESERVE THE LOVE YOU'VE DREAMED ABOUT!"

"THE FIRST LETTER WASN'T FOR ME!" Heeseung continues, his voice ringing across the snow. "BUT I WANT TO WRITE YOU ONE! I WANT TO WRITE YOU A HUNDRED LETTERS! I WANT TO LEARN YOUR FAVORITE HIGHLIGHTER COLORS AND THE NAMES OF ALL YOUR PLANTS AND THE EXACT WAY YOU LIKE YOUR VANILLA LATTES!"

Someone in the crowd lets out a wolf whistle. Someone else starts recording on their phone. You can't move, can't speak, can't do anything except stand at the bottom of the slope and stare up at the boy who shouts his heart out for everyone to hear.

"YOU'RE A DISASTER!" Heeseung yells, and his voice is full of joy, full of affection, full of something that looks a lot like love. "YOU'RE A HOPELESS ROMANTIC WHO'S TOO SCARED TO LIVE THE ROMANCE YOU DREAM ABOUT! YOU HIDE BEHIND BULLETIN BOARDS AND YOU CHOKE ON LETTUCE AND YOU SPILL COFFEE ON YOURSELF AND YOU MAKE GRAPHS ABOUT VIDEO GAME BALANCE AND YOU CRIED OVER A BABY PENGUIN IN A NATURE DOCUMENTARY!"

"This is the worst confession I've ever heard!" you shout back, but you are laughing, tears streaming down your face, your heart so full it feels like it might burst.

"I'M NOT FINISHED!" Heeseung takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer, still loud enough to carry, but more intimate, more vulnerable. "YOU'RE A DISASTER, Y/N L/N! AND I'M A DISASTER TOO! I'M A PEOPLE-PLEASER WHO CAN'T SAY NO, I HAVE A REPUTATION THAT DOESN'T REFLECT WHO I ACTUALLY AM, AND I POURED COFFEE ON MY HEAD BECAUSE I COULDN'T STAND TO SEE YOU CRY ALONE!"

He starts walking down the slope toward you, his snowboard forgotten at the top, his boots crunching through the snow.

"AND I THINK, NO, I KNOW THAT I'VE BEEN FALLING FOR YOU SINCE THE MOMENT YOU WALKED INTO THAT PC ROOM AND LOOKED AT ME LIKE I WAS THE WORST THING THAT HAD EVER HAPPENED TO YOU!"

He gets closer now, close enough that you can see the nervousness in his eyes, the vulnerability beneath the bravado, the way his hands shake slightly despite his confident posture.

"SO I'M ASKING YOU, IN FRONT OF ALL THESE PEOPLE, ON THIS VERY EMBARRASSING SKI SLOPE, IF YOU'LL BE MY DISASTER. OFFICIALLY. NO MORE MISUNDERSTANDINGS. NO MORE LETTERS MEANT FOR OTHER PEOPLE. JUST US."

He stops a few feet away from you, his breath fogging in the cold air, his dark eyes fixed on your face.

"WHAT DO YOU SAY, LITTLE MOUSE?"

The silence that follows is deafening. Every person on the slope watches you, waiting for your answer.

And you, you, the hopeless romantic who has always been too scared to live the romance you dream about, you take a deep breath, throw your arms out wide, and shout at the top of your lungs:

"I LIKE YOU TOO, YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT! I'VE LIKED YOU FOR WEEKS AND I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO SAY IT AND YOU JUST SHOUTED IT FROM A MOUNTAINTOP LIKE A CHARACTER IN A KDRAMA!"

Heeseung's face breaks into the biggest smile you have ever seen. "IS THAT A YES?"

"THAT'S A YES! THAT'S A THOUSAND TIMES YES! NOW COME HERE AND KISS ME BEFORE I PASS OUT FROM THE EMBARRASSMENT OF HAVING THIS CONVERSATION IN FRONT OF LITERALLY EVERYONE!"

He doesn't need to be told twice. He crosses the distance between you in three long strides, catches your face in his hands, and kisses you, deep and thorough and joyful, right there at the bottom of the beginner slope, with the snow sparkling around you and the crowd erupting into cheers and someone's phone recording what will undoubtedly become the most-watched video on the university's social media for the next month.

When he pulls back, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm against your lips, he grins like he has just won the lottery.

"You shouted your feelings from a mountaintop," he murmurs. "You, the girl who was too scared to even correct a misunderstanding, just shouted your feelings from a mountaintop."

"You started it."

"I did. And you finished it." He kisses the tip of your nose. "I'm so proud of you."

You have never been more embarrassed in your entire life, and you have never been happier.

"We're still disasters," you say.

"Absolutely. But now we're disasters who are dating."

"Are we dating? Is that what this is?"

"This is me, shouting from a mountaintop that I want to be with you. I'm pretty sure that counts as dating." He pauses, his expression shifting to something more serious. "Unless you don't want-"

"I want." You grab the front of his jacket and pull him closer. "I want everything. The letters and the coffee disasters and the matching shirts and the snowboarding lessons and the jacuzzi conversations and the ridiculous mountaintop confessions. I want all of it."

Heeseung kisses you again, and this time it is softer, sweeter, full of promise.

"You know what this means," he says against your lips.

"What?"

"We're going to have to tell Jungwon."

You groan. "Can we wait until after the trip? I need at least twenty-four hours to recover from this before I have another emotionally complicated conversation."

"Deal." He pulls back, taking your hand in his. "Come on. Let's get out of here before someone asks us for an interview."

And hand in hand, laughing like fools, you run away from the crowd and the chaos.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

🏷️ @kristynaaah @karinablue00 @hii01mii @mssishipi @fallwinterr @ikeufied @yamzz67 @shaiimuraaa @bingka @ateez-atiny380 @jakeyyyjakexoxo @luucortis @cupidiorr @jayjw16enxp @voucearse @scoupsonlycherry @ellushic @yummysummerberry @enhaholicfan @chanchamm @xocandypoo @enhapagluuuuu @lelo-o @tboboee @xyvzvee @imnotyizhuo @loveydoveyez @ily6968 @nct-sticker-127 @neonpinkbabylonglegs @psychicdazestrawberry @marigold55 @v1-xo @kkkkkiiiiaaaaaiiii @enhaholicfan @kemkem33 @arelyvn @noturresponsibility @iverrr

[bamb1l0la]

sorry if my cute face was misleading I’m actually a pervert

[yunsera-deactivated20260427]

so, since when was standing against rape and SA childish?

tell that to the children and even young adults/adults who may have been SA’ed their entire lives, with no one to help and no one to call. their own FAMILIES do this to them and you’re putting it into your fics for FUN? you’re literally the equivalent of a man at the club, groping a woman for his own pleasure and then telling her she’s “doing too much” when she sets boundaries.

rape and SA are not “dark content”, this is not just labels. this stuff is someone’s trauma and pain and you’re writing about it as if it’s a joke. and it’s not like you’re writing any non-fiction, historically accurate book. you’re literally just doing it for fun. what is wrong with you….?

it’s not about not knowing how to “regulate emotions” it’s about not sitting around watching people NORMALIZE touching others without their consent. like, i fear this is common sense guys.

imagine someone in your family went through that, meanwhile, you’re writing about it for your dirty fantasies…..

[gojosoups]

Imagine being so unemployed that you spend your time posting gossip about fanfic writers or complaining about the lack of fluff and angst on this platform…

When you could use that energy to talk about ACTUAL issues, like the bombings in Iran and Lebanon, the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians, or how our world leaders are child rapists and cannibals...

It is a PRIVILEGE... when your biggest worry is about what people write, rather than fearing for your life. every. single. day.

[wadigrove]

i think zuko starts off so shy and dorky and sweet during sex… face all red, ears burning, mumbling quiet little “is this okay?” while he’s barely holding it together.

but after a while? he really grows into it.

he gets more confident—fucking you deeper, faster, putting you in positions you never thought he’d even consider. suddenly he’s gripping your hips, flipping you over like it’s nothing, voice low and a little rough when he murmurs against your ear, “you think you can take more for me?”

he even starts getting charming and teasing about it—that rare, smug little smirk appearing when he sees how wrecked you are, softly taunting, “what’s wrong, princess? too much for you already?” while he keeps going harder.

he still blushes… but now it’s because he loves how desperate you sound for him.

[microwavedstrawberr1es]

why do i feel like my own bf would do this oml

[wadigrove]

i think zuko starts off so shy and dorky and sweet during sex… face all red, ears burning, mumbling quiet little “is this okay?” while he’s barely holding it together.

but after a while? he really grows into it.

he gets more confident—fucking you deeper, faster, putting you in positions you never thought he’d even consider. suddenly he’s gripping your hips, flipping you over like it’s nothing, voice low and a little rough when he murmurs against your ear, “you think you can take more for me?”

he even starts getting charming and teasing about it—that rare, smug little smirk appearing when he sees how wrecked you are, softly taunting, “what’s wrong, princess? too much for you already?” while he keeps going harder.

he still blushes… but now it’s because he loves how desperate you sound for him.

[luca-alexanders-2-deactivated20]

Sit in my lap so I can finger you and tell you how pretty you are

[plutotheplum]

i decided to pick up crocheting as a way to relax but i think it might be easier to choke myself with the fucking yarn

[lokissweater]

lucky boy ᯓ★

nfl!yuta okkotsu x photographer f!reader

yuta okkotsu has loved and adored you ever since he met you, absolutely infatuated with your skill in photography for his team and how you carried yourself with others— self-assured, never once letting anyone talk to you a certain way, and the sweetest thing ever to him, giving him the time of day when he feels like a loser moron that certainly doesn't deserve it. one problem though? you have a piece of shit asshole of a boyfriend who somehow became the exception to treating you badly. and yuta can't take it anymore, his year long pent up yearning and frustration for you piling to the brim before either of you realize it... until it bursts.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, FLUFFFF, yearning, pining, SMUT, mentions of a toxic relationship beware, yuta is IN LOVE with you omg, ANGST AFFF, reader is the photographer for yuta's team, sexual themes, filthy dirty talk, fingering, pet names, readers bf is a dickhead, best friends to lovers, mentions of reader having ‘pink cheeks’ is only to amplify and over-exaggerate feelings of embarrassment, shyness, and everything in between, and not to be taken literally! this is a work of fiction, and you can imagine many things for yourself :)

word count: 20.4k

authors note: i LIVE and BREATHE and NEEEDDDD NFL!YUTA WITH ME IN MAH BED DEAR GOD HE IS A SWEEETTIIEEEE IN THIS ONEEE!!! :,)))) I HOPE YOU GUYS LOVE ITTTT AAAGHHHHH I LOVE YALL SO EFFING MUCH !!! <3333 amazing strawberry patch divider by @/saradika-graphics !!

PART TWO of this fic is available here!

for being in the national football league, yuta okkotsu was the worst player on his team.

he didn’t even know how he ended up playing football growing up in the first place, because yuta had a cursed tendency to go into things due to whatever reason and not know how to get himself out.

was it a dare? had someone pressured him? was it a favor?

he couldn’t remember anymore, though it didn’t really matter much to him seeing as he loved football— something that once confused him and made him trip over his own cleats when he first started, to actually growing to really enjoy it instead of loathing it like it would for most.

the sport pushed him to the absolute limits in his scatterbrained skittery abilities to try and make something of himself other than a sleep deprived idiot, which he figured was probably the reason why he continued to stumble his way through his youth football team, his high school football team, his college football team...

and now the national football league, the road which he traveled always jaggedly difficult and barely grazing the surface of what it was to qualify for these types of organizations.

he just didn't know how he kept getting fucking lucky— just enough to make it through the surface and make a living for himself even if everyone got mad at him all of the time for it.

because he sucked. he knew that he did. and no matter how many times he met with his management to try and figure out what the hell to do to improve, or tried to better his play on his own with extra hours of training that damn near broke his joints on multiple occasions from overexertion, it was like yuta repelled at being someone that was just— good at something.

it wasn’t the greatest feeling loving a sport that seemed like it didn’t exactly want him in return... but he enjoyed it anyways, opting to make the best of it until he ultimately officially got canned.

and he especially grew to enjoy it when he met you.

the photographer for his team.

“maybe tuck the ball under your arm for me? instead of—yeah! yeah like that!—”

yuta’s trembling hands, buzzing pink cheeks and sweating everything was doing nothing for him in this moment as you stood in front of him, wildly pretty and so sure of yourself as you took pictures of him for the monthly newsletter, camera in hand as you clicked way and angled your body here and there to get the shot you wanted.

he gulped.

“i feel like your bicep looks even bigger that way.” you smiled cheekily, setting your camera down as it hung around your neck with a strap.

e— even big—

“it’ll make the girlies excited for sure!”

he blushed furiously at you noting something like that, letting out a nervous squeaky laugh as he dropped his gaze to the way he was holding the ball now, fitted in his freshly cleaned football gear out in the middle of the field, just the two of you.

“does it— does it really..?” his wobbly smile tugged at your heart strings, a reassuring one of your own smoothing over your face in response. “i feel like they're usually yelling at me from the stands heh...”

you amusedly rolled your eyes with a shake of the head, picking up your camera again to capture a few more shots. “everyone yells all kinds of things from the stands yu.”

“they usually say i need to be benched or traded...” he spoke quietly, comically unfocused traumatized eyes staring off ahead as you gently fixed the positioning of his other arm.

you snorted and stepped back.

“yeah well you’re the one in the nfl and they’re the ones spending money to come see you anyway so they can rot in hell for all i care—”

he giggled then, wholeheartedly as he diverted his gaze, feeling amused yet incredibly ashamed at your statement all at the same time.

the title didn't feel rightfully earned to him... he didn’t deserve it for his atrocious play on the field.

“what?” you asked softly, popping your head up from the brink of taking another picture. “did i say something wrong? i'm sorry yuta i— that probably wasn’t appropriate—”

yuta frantically shook his head, big eyes locked on you as he flailed his unoccupied hand out in emphasis.

“no! no absolutely not you’re— you’re okay y/n...”

your shoulders gradually dropped in relief, thankful that yuta was one little gem that didn’t seem to mind anything that flowed off your tongue that was technically considered extremely unprofessional, more so if it was anyone else.

you were thankful he was a friend.

“i was just thinking a little.” he sent you a small timid curve of the lips, going back to the pose you’d instructed for him previously.

you hummed, shutting one eye to continue taking photographs, the camera shuddering and clicking away as you spoke.

“thinking? about what?”

yuta had known you ever since he made the national league team, and he’d loved you for just as long, deeming you one of his closest friends besides his other senior teammate— the singular person who tolerated him and didn’t scold him for accidentally dropping passes, and a cheerleader he’d come to meet nearly two months ago that danced for his team, her being the one he babbled and poured his heart out on a silver platter for about you and everything that you did.

and he felt so bad each time that he did... accidentally tasking her with listening to him hopelessly rant and rant even through her soft-hearted reassurances that it was okay...

he just didn’t think he could ever forget the way he felt when you first spoke to him, pathetically enough.

but he couldn’t think of you that way.

“about how badly i might botch our homecoming game.” a sad half smile grew. “i might get booted this time if i'm lucky.”

you gawked, jaw hung to the ground.

“yuta why would you say something like thaaatt!” you whined, beginning to flick through the photos on your camera to give them a check over. “don’t do that please... it’s not fair to write yourself off already for something that hasn’t happened. for something that won’t happen.”

he gnawed at the inside of his cheek, desperately wanting to believe you... but his bumpy track record was weighing heavy on his shoulders to remind him that he simply couldn't.

“you’re right i'm sorry.” he spoke softly, and you eased a little by his tone, putting your camera down and walking over to gently take the football from underneath his arm, his ears going pinker the closer you got to him.

you were aware of yuta’s unfortunate reputation, and you were even more aware of how he was treated by everyone else because of it.

“you’re alright yu don’t apologize.” you smiled warmly, your gaze swimming in sympathy and worry as you looked at him. “i just don’t like it when you’re mean to yourself about it... everyone has different strengths that come across in different ways. you have strengths that come across in different ways.”

“i don’t think people will ever see it that way though.” he lightly laughed, and you moved your head to catch his line of sight directly, expression serious.

“i see it that way.” you pushed softly. “hold onto that for a little until the rest of them do.”

yuta's heart felt like it was about to burst.

out of all his miserable years of dealing with people telling him he wasn’t doing this right, or fumbling that or—or jeopardizing whatever—

you were the first to ever show him genuine sugary kindness in the otherwise unforgiving industry he was involved in, and some he desperately needed and clung onto the minute you flashed him your gorgeous grin and encouraged him on his very first day, despite feeling like he truly reached the finish line for his career and was done for.

but it was wrong to think of you that way.

because the sole reason as to why yuta spent his days moping around gloomy and miserable and frustrated other than not being able to talk to you without stammering over his own words and looking fucking stupid...

was because you had a boyfriend.

and he hated himself for still loving you in the way that he did when he respected you so unbelievably much... but he just couldn’t help it no matter how hard he tried to get you out of his head, or begged his heart and head to calm the hell down any time he heard your pretty distant voice somewhere in the locker rooms or out on the field— spending a solid year trying and all it got him was freaking nowhere besides being pitifully still wrapped around your little finger and trailing after you like a lost puppy.

especially on days like this when you were so nice to him, having the upmost faith in what he could do when no one else did.

“th— thank you.” he shakily grinned, yet sweet as you nodded and patted his bicep.

“of course!”

you picked your camera back up again and quickly made a final run through over the photos you took, satisfaction swelling in your chest as you spotted several that were up to your standards and perfect for the newsletter.

you always enjoyed photographing yuta in particular, because despite the fact he was often bashful and a little unsure of himself, you actually preferred that, most if not all football players you’ve gotten to work with utterly and agonizingly arrogant, often choosing not to listen to any directions or pointers you gave them in terms of posing, talking your ear off about how it didn’t match what they wanted, or because it didn’t line up with the image they wanted to perceive themselves as to the public, or because they just flat out didn’t want to and ‘felt weird.’

whatever the fuck that meant.

so yuta always being the sweetest boy you’d ever met, listening to you and frequently asking you if how he was posing was okay, or what you suggested he do so he could look or work better, made your job so much easier and that much more pleasant.

“you’re all set!” you cutely smiled, yuta’s heart jumping at the sight of that. “thanks so much yu! your pictures look very cute.”

he chuckled, proceeding to strep through the grass and follow you when you signaled him with a nudge of the head to do so.

“are they okay?” he asked, and you quickly nodded, the both of you making your way across the vacant football field to get back to the locker rooms with the rest of the players.

“uh huh! they're lovely yu.” you wrung your hands behind your back and gently bumped your shoulder with his arm, yuta’s eyes trained downward as a teeny smile grew on his face.

“i appreciate you always working with me... i know it can get annoying when i keep pulling you for photos and get in the way of your practice hours... or when i keep fixing your arm twenty billion times heh.”

he snapped his head up and looked at you. “oh no! i don’t mind at all y/n. whatever you have to do to get what you need is never a bother for me, you know that.”

you jutted your bottom lip at his sweetness, his humility a charming yet burdening trait of his.

you always wished that yuta could receive the recognition and support you knew he deeply deserved.

because it was that same humility that allowed every other dickwad in the industry to walk all over him and make him feel awful for nearly fucking everything that he did. he could do no right in their eyes, and watching him ever so slowly lose the tiny glimmer of authentic passion he carried for the sport he played— his enthusiasm washing away bit by bit, the fiery flickering bud diminishing before you could attempt to salvage it, and the bags under his eyes growing darker and darker with every new day you saw him... made you sad.

you didn’t want yuta to lose himself due to the rather harsh expectations of others, when you knew probably more than anyone the exact grit he carried underneath his skin for football, his management refusing to just give him the grace nor chance he needed to let it properly flourish, and for the dumbest reasons you’d ever heard too.

it was the ‘cost of resources’ they had explained to you when you stomped your way through headquarters on a particularly brutal game for yuta, him accidentally butchering a touchdown simply because his teammates had zero faith in him and refused to pass him the ball, their hesitancy being the actual cause of his team losing rather than yuta.

though they blamed him anyway that night.

as the team's photographer there really wasn’t much you could do... but you felt it was worse to stay silent rather than weasel in the teensiest of input, one you hoped would one day fall on the right ears of someone willing to actually better the structure of training players, rather than favoritism or spending it on useless renovation plans for the stadium.

because sure, yuta wasn’t the greatest player... but he was far from the worst that they insisted he was.

and you fucking hated it.

“do you have any plans for the weekend?” you chirped as you both walked through the locker room doors, yuta pondering for a moment.

he didn’t ever really have much going on besides wallowing in anxiety and despair over any upcoming games...

“ehh— not really!” he chuckled, you following along as he made his way to his designated cubby, internally happy to see that the locker rooms were vacant so he could have some time with you for a little while.

“i think i might go out and buy rika a new cat tree... she destroyed the one she has now during the last away game we had.”

you giggled, yuta subconsciously smiling a little at the tune as he tugged at the straps of his football gloves off, the velcro ripping as he went.

“that silly kitty...” you tutted, taking a seat by him on the bench, calmly watching him crouch and begin to rummage through his cubby. “she always loves committing crimes when you’re not home.”

“definitely.” yuta huffed out a laugh with a shake of the head, organizing his things in preparation for next weeks practice. “a couple of days ago i came back from the market to see all my dishes shattered in the kitchen..."

“shut the fuck up!” you gasped, hand flying over your mouth as he giggled softly at your reaction, nodding.

“yeah... but it’s okay.” he smiled, standing upright and taking a seat next to you on the bench. “i have a hard time staying mad at her so i gave up on trying to get her to behave.”

you laughed again, and it only made yuta’s heart do a little giddy leap, head hung and eyes trained to the ground below in the hopes of you not seeing how red in the face he stupidly was.

“what— what about you?” he asked, wringing his palms together and settling them between his legs. “do you have any plans?”

you perked up. “i do! my boyfriend and i have plans to see a movie and then maybe get dinner after.”

he swallowed.

“that sounds like fun.” he sent you a weak smile. “what um— what movie?”

“i don’t even know.” you snorted. “he picked it! or— said he was gonna pick it... i’m not sure if he’s bought tickets yet actually.”

worry brewed in his chest a bit, ache mixed with frustration as you went on about the rest of your plans that you weren’t even sure were entirely confirmed.

situations like this were almost routine like to hear from you, because your boyfriend also happened to be a fucking asshole.

in the year that he’d known you, yuta lost count of how many times he cancelled on you last minute to do god knows what, or blatantly ditched whatever plans you had made for the two of you in exchange for doing something else that catered to just him, or was just— mean to you all of the time.

that fact bothered yuta the most.

he didn’t like the way he spoke to you at all, and it seemed like you were too used to it to— realize that it was rude, your boyfriend flat out too dismissive and neglectful of you and yuta having no idea how a sweet thoughtful girl like you ended up with someone who treated you like that.

you deserved to be respected and have everything you’ve ever wanted in your life, and whether it was with him or not that wasn’t what was important to him in this situation.

because yes it hurt like fucking hell to hear you talk about him, see you with him whenever he came to football events— your pretty doe eyes sparkling and widening as you stared at him like he was everything and not at all the arrogant fuck he was... but yuta’s feelings for you were to the point where he’d be at bittersweet ease if you were at least with someone who was good for you. treating you kindly.

“you should call him about it... just to be safe.” he spoke quietly, expression unreadable as he stared ahead at his cubby. “please.”

he didn't want you to be disappointed again.

“oh i will!” you kindly smiled, standing and slowly stretching your arms out over your head, slightly twisting your body left and right to soften out your limbs with yuta keeping his gaze straight ahead to avoid getting a peek at your soft tummy.

“i’m sure he booked it i just haven’t asked him about it.” you let your arms fall back to your sides before sending him a gentle smile, placing a palm on his head to give it a little pat. “i’ll be okay yu don't worry.”

his cheeks bubbled pink then, shy eyes briefly flickering up to yours with a teeny grin, dropping just as quick as they came with a nod.

“n— no yeah! of course.”

your fingers slipped from his raven strands and you took a step out.

“i’ll edit your photos and send them early so you can approve before i submit for the newsletter.” you informed him, yuta following suit and standing from the bench. “just to make sure you like them.”

“sure! thank you y/n.” he breathed out, the heavy exhaustion from today’s practice suddenly catching up to him. “is that how it normally is when you take the other guys’ photos?”

“nope!” you snickered, picking up your camera and holding it up to your face, squinting an eye. “special perks just for you sir. ‘cause you’re not a dick to me.”

he laughed, a pearly smile stretching across his face as he watched you snap another singular photo, the bright white flash blocking his line of sight for a swift moment until it dissipated.

“do the others still give you a hard time?” he curiously asked you, grabbing the collar of his jersey and bending over a bit to give it a quick tug off, his shoulder pads and protective plates sliding through his arms before his head popped up from underneath.

“no not as bad as when i first started.” you reached over and helped him slip the rest of his uniform off his arms, him sending you a grateful closed-lipped smile in response as you readjusted his white undershirt by the hem, the same hand then moving up to fix over his slightly disheveled hair.

you were so sweet he could die.

 “they just get sassy when they don’t like the poses i tell them to do.” you sighed as you drew your arm back, and yuta quirked a brow, proceeding to separate the fabric of his jersey from the preventative padding.

“still?” he shook his head, setting down his equipment in his cubby. “i’m sorry y/n... they’re just pictures i never understand why—”

“just pictures..?” you pouted, and yuta immediately snapped his head up from the sound of your tone to look at you, blown out horrified eyes scouring over your sulky little face in a panic.

oh god—

“n— no! that's not what i meant! i— they're not just pictures i love your pictures so much i just meant—”

you giggled hard then, hand hovering over your mouth as yuta’s cheeks grew pinker with every cute hiccup and chopped breath he heard slip past your lips.

“i’m kidding!” you quickly set your palms on his broad shoulders and gripped, shaking him a little to ward off his fidgety alarm— fighting through the silliness of it yourself to straighten up for him. “i'm just— heh!— i'm messing with you yuta it’s okay... i know what you meant.”

his shoulders slumped in fucking relief, placing a hand over his pounding heart as he dropped his head back and groaned.

“don’t do that...” he breathed out. “i thought i hurt you.”

you snickered some more and gave his shoulders a squeeze before letting go.

you found it endearing how gullible yuta was sometimes with people, as you took note of how much effort he put in never wanting to commit a sliver of harm to anyone if he could help it, even if they weren’t exactly the same with him.

“absolutely not sir.” you quipped, setting a hand on your hip and drumming your fingers along your camera with the other. “i’d never let you do such a thing to me.”

he giggled squeakily and nodded, briefly tossing his folded up jersey inside his cubby. “good! and don’t let any of my other teammates either.”

“ppffttt!—” you blew out, a silly rise to your brow. “yeah like i'd ever even let them open their mouth to talk to me like that. they fear me yu.”

“do they?” he cheekily grinned, dragging his bulky backpack out and plopping it on the bench beside you both, beginning to pack his things for the night. “who? how so?”

“i photographed itsuki last week for the newsletter and he was throwing a bitch fit.” you explained, watching as he finished up and zipped his bag closed, hoisting it over his shoulders.

yuta looked at you bewildered.

“why?”

you pouted again, and it made his heart squeeze just like before.

“he didn’t like my posing ideas. and then when i told him to suck it up he didn’t like my attitude.”

yuta burst out laughing, the admiration he already had for you increasing tenfold as you explained to him the maddening interaction you had with his teammate, the two of you officially packing up, making your way out of the locker room entirely and through the nearly vacant stadium as you conversed.

nights like these were yuta’s favorite type of nights, where the both of you managed to stay late enough for whatever reasons that you both had going on throughout the day, which in turn granted him the lucky privilege of getting to spend a bit of extra time with just you— not surrounded by the bustling crowds of everyone else that was clocked in, his incredibly loud teammates, or any other commitments that prevented him from straight up catching a fleeting glimpse of you for the day.

it was nights like these were yuta selfishly had pretty you all to himself.

even if it was just for a little while.

“wait what did you end up doing? were you able to take his pictures for the newsletter?”

yuta pushed open an exit door to the stadium and stepped off to the side, allowing you to go through first and out into the icy crisp night air before he followed suit.

“i had to force him yu. the man refused to listen to me and it was fucking exhausting.”

“what the hell is wrong with him.” yuta mumbled, his brainly cogs turning as you walked through the parking lot, the loose pavement gravel crunching beneath your shoes with each step. “he’s always been kind of bratty like that actually... coach has told him to stay in position and not chase after the ball so many times and he just— doesn't listen.”

“because he wants to be the one to make touchdowns that’s why.” you sighed through your nose, eyes scouring the never ending rows of vehicles and trying to remember where you parked yours.

“greedy greedy man...”

yuta smiled at the ground, though a small twitch to the brow gave away his discontent.

“you’re probably right but— i don’t really like that he’s mean to you y/n...” he turned his head to look at you, bashful concern etched on his kind face. “you have nothing to do with whatever’s happening on the field.”

you frantically waved him off, shaking your head and feeling bad that you’d stressed him out for probably the millionth time today.

“no! i promise you i'm alright yu don’t worry.” you brightly grinned, readjusting the strap of your bag. “this isn’t my first rodeo with these kinds of things... i used to babysit before i got into photography heehee! but thank you!”

he giggled boyishly and nodded, thankful that you were quite literally the definition of self-assuredness and confidence, if not way better, you never letting anyone minimize you or— or speak to you a certain way without you biting back, something he profoundly admired about you and could only wish to replicate for himself someday.

so yuta couldn’t understand why you’d made the exception for your boyfriend.

“oh! i see my car! oh thank god i couldn’t remember where the eff i parked—”

you turned to him and smiled once more, a rosy hue to the tip of your nose and precious cheeks from the frosty nipping air, both of your breaths puffing out in misty clouds as you spoke on.

“thank you for walking with me! are you far from here?” you craned your body and looked around the parking lot. “if you are let me drive you to your car so you’re not walking in the cold—”

“oh i'm— i'm okay! thank you!” he breathed out, fiddling with the straps of his backpack. “i’m not too far away i can walk.”

“kay.” you briefly dug through your bag and pulled your keys out. “i’ll see you next week then? monday?”

“uh huh! monday.”

walking to the driver's side of your car, you unlocked it and pulled open the door before tossing your bag in, hoisting a leg up.

“give rika a kiss for me!” you called from over your shoulder, and yuta quickly nodded with friendly quirked lips.

“i will! drive safe please!”

“you too!”

and you shut the door, yuta taking a few steps back then and watching as you turned on your ignition and switched to reverse, easing your way out from your spot until you eventually shifted gears— sticking a waving hand out the window as you drove off into the night and out of the parking lot.

yuta didn’t let his arm down until you were completely out of sight from where he was, standing there for a few more seconds with a battering fuzzy heart, his chest swirling with affection for you that he desperately tried to get under control and shut up.

it was embarrassing in a way, when his twisted mind often wrongfully swapped out where your boyfriend stood next to you at his games... with himself, picturing that it was him you were looking at like that, or imagining what it would be like to literally just hug you, or hold your hand or— or share something with you that made you so happy and had you smiling for him— all in the attempts of mending over the ache, a burden that resided permanently in every nook and cranny of who he was.

he knew fantasizing about shit like this wasn’t the healthiest for him… and not to mention disrespectful to you, doing more harm than good.

but yuta simply couldn’t help himself.

you were worth someone to think about, and he justified his daydreams by keeping them exactly as they were and nothing more. as daydreams.

daydreams he sort of made peace with taking to the grave.

it was a constant never ending warfare between morality, temptation, and heavy longing that often plagued his every thought after getting to speak with you— similar to this moment, with him shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket and finally walking away, head hung low and his brain contorting and pulling with lovesick guilt as he made his way to his car, it actually parked the complete opposite from where yours was.

because nonetheless...

he was looking forward to monday.

“what do you mean you didn’t book it?”

your boyfriend simply shrugged, bored eyes glued to the tv in your living room— planted on the couch as you stood there in fucked off disbelief that it seemed like he genuinely didn’t know what the hell you were talking about.

there’s no way there’s no way—

“i thought you did..?” he barely even spared you a glance before his gaze flickered back to the screen ahead, your heart sinking once you realized that he was indeed doing this bullshit again with you.

“reno— you said you would!” you explained exasperatedly. “you told me last week that you’d book a movie and make dinner reservations—”

“did i?” he mumbled. “i’m sorry babe i’ll book them for a different day. promise.”

he spoke so— passively. entirely distracted and embedded in whatever the fuck he was watching, refusing to give you the time of day as you stood there with your hair and makeup done, trying to suck back the familiar burning tears that prickled at your eyeballs.

“you said that last time.” you spoke softly. “and the time before that.”

“well i’m here now aren’t i?” he stood with a grunt and sluggishly made his way to the fridge, pulling it open and bending to rummage through. “why can’t we just stay in—”

“no reno we always stay in...” your voice quavered. “and you said—”

“fuck what i said y/n i don’t remember.” he snagged a beer bottle from the back and shut the fridge, turning to face you and eyes narrowing into slits.

“are you seriously crying? what did i even do?”

“you literally talked out of your ass and planned this shit with me!” you yelled, hands flailing out in desperation. “the least you could do is cancel on me ahead of time instead of letting me get fucking ready!”

“you’re being dramatic babe stop.” he mumbled, digging into the pockets of his pants and pulling out a bottle opener, hooking the latch beneath the cap. “just come sit down i’ll put a damn movie on. what do you wanna watch.”

you felt a pang through your chest and you shook your head, sniffling before reaching around him and snatching your purse from the kitchen island.

reno quizzically tracked your movements, taking a drink of his beer and swallowing.

“where the hell are you going?”

“out.” you spat, carefully wiping the corners of your eyes as you stepped to the door.

he scoffed. “yeah where?—”

“don’t make a mess in my apartment while i’m gone.”

“babe— i literally drove here to spend time with you and you’re leaving?” he bitterly rolled his eyes. “jesus man i should be the one mad at you.”

“be mad at me all you want. i’m leaving.” you unlocked the front door and wrenched it open. “bye reno.”

“oh my god y/n—”

“—i’m glad you remembered where the beer was in my fridge you asshole!”

and you slammed the door shut, the force ricocheting as you charged your way through the halls of your apartment complex and down the main elevators, hoping and praying that he didn’t follow after you so he’d at least spare the wrath of getting freaking chewed out by you.

you were livid.

so incredibly livid and frustrated and— and hurt as you got into your car, wondering when it was that reno started being so careless with you and your relationship, even when you’ve been running laps around him trying to find different ways to salvage it and go back to the way things were.

it was a never ending fucking cycle— him disappointing you over fallen out plans or forgotten special events, you crying and hiccupping about it until he eventually got over his attitude and softened up for you, sweetly apologizing and buying you flowers or trinkets and treating you like he used to...

kind.

because he was, you swore that he once was. when you and him first started dating that was the whole reason as to why you ended up being his girlfriend in the first place, the first few months genuine bliss until his efforts started gradually declining over the course of your two year relationship.

reno used to buy you flowers weekly and take you out for dinner every other night, he used to parade you around his friends and insist that you’d come along to any outing, he used to drop everything in his life if you needed something as simple as fucking eggs in your fridge.

and he used to make you feel wanted. someone worth thinking about.

maybe that was the reason why you were still with him, clinging on desperately to the man he once was in the hopes that he’d suddenly come back one day.

but he loved you still. even though he was sometimes mean and forgetful you knew that he loved you…

he did he— he just needed a little help is all…

“rika you have got to be kidding me.”

a singular cute meow filled the room as rika pounced off the sandy mess she made— litter sprinkled all over the fucking floor of the living room with scattered imprints of her paws etched in each small pile, yuta standing there with a slack jaw.

“i took a piss for like— two seconds how did you even manage to—”

his furrowed pissed brows made no effect on the little kitty, as she simply twitched her fluffy ears and cocked her head to the side, blown out pupils looking up at him earnestly before she padded her way over to his right leg.

“i lose sleep because of you…” he muttered, watching her curl herself against the fabric of his jeans and purring, trotting to the opposite side to do the same with his other leg, yuta’s heart actively being tugged and manipulated as she did so.

he quietly sighed through his nose then and bent down, gently carding his fingers through the soft white fur behind her ear and scratching, a slow smile curving his lips as rika purred louder and nuzzled her head into his hand.

“silly kitty…” he mumbled. “you abuse the system you know.”

one of yuta's biggest flaws out of the millions he already had with football, was that he had a hard time staying mad at cat, feeling she could go as far as getting them literally evicted from his apartment complex and he’d still give her a peck with a sweet treat at the end of the day.

“what color cat tree do you want?—”

his phone buzzed in his back pocket and he absentmindedly reached behind to retrieve it, his eyes flickering once to the caller i.d. before they shot back for a double take upon realizing who it was.

you.

“HOLY fucking— shit!—”

yuta’s phone slipped from his hand and he made a leaping lunge for it, slamming down tummy first and sliding across the cold hardwood flooring of his living room— helplessly scrambling after his buzzing device for a few tries until he managed to finally snatch it through his panic, quickly answering.

rika stared.

“hel— hello?”

“hi yu!” you sweetly greeted over the other line, and yuta felt his heart quicken at the sound of it.

it wasn’t often when you called on the weekends. actually— you didn’t call on the weekends just on the week-days when he had football practices and you were gathering photographs for the media or management and you needed to pull him for a quick chat—

“is— is this a good time?”

“yes!” he sputtered, using his unoccupied hand to help himself up off the floor. “y—yeah it is y/n… are you okay?”

“yeah i’m okay!” you laughed. “thank you! i just um… have you— have you gotten rika’s cat tree yet..? by any chance?”

his eyebrows pinched a little.

“n— no i haven’t.” he replied. “i was just about to go actually but— rika spilled litter all over my floor...”

you giggled and yuta felt like he was going to die.

“serves you right for leaving her all alone hm? you should know by now that kitty doesn’t like it when you’re away.”

he laughed then and nodded, looking over his shoulder and relieved to see rika still relaxing where she was and not destroying something else.

“you’re absolutely right.” he smiled, a pinky hue rising to his cheeks. “she’s gonna set my apartment on fire if we make it to the superbowl.”

“when you make the super bowl sir.” you corrected. “hey but listen um… i was wondering if it’s okay if i tag along? with— you? to get rika her cat tree…”

he froze.

“not if it’s too much trouble!” you immediately followed up. “i totally get it if not please don’t worry i was just— i remembered those were your plans and i don’t have plans so i thought—”

“no no!” he frantically shook his head.

fucking idiot—

“i mean yes!” he breathed out. “yes you’re more than welcome to y/n i— i don’t mind at all… please come.”

you gasped.

“really?! oh i’m so glad! send me your address and i’ll drive over to your place.”

holy shit.

“okay!” he hurriedly propped his phone up against his shoulder and ran across his apartment to get to his utility closet, fumbling for the knob and yanking it open in search for his vacuum.

“just— just let me know when you’re about ten minutes away!” he dragged the vacuum out and sped back down the hall. “i’m on the fifth floor just press the mail room button, i’ll text you the code—”

yuta had never hung out with you one on one before.

well technically he has, but it was always in group settings with his teammates or staff personnel after particular days, the lot of you meeting up at the bar just down the street from the stadium to have a quick drink and converse, though most of the time it was funnily always you and yuta talking amongst each other with everyone else doing their own little thing.

and there were a few blessed times where you both happened to grab a quick cup of coffee in the mornings right before clocking in… but every single one of these events happened on a working weekday.

never a weekend. and never on your own accord like this.

“rika please get out of the way i can’t vacuum when you’re blocking—”

the cat continued to wiggle her fluffy tail and stay cemented on the top portion of the vacuum, moving back and forth with yuta’s frantic push and pull as he tried to get all the litter off the floor before you got there.

“rikkaaaaa!” he groaned. “please kitty please i’ll do anything don’t do this right now—”

out of all days for yuta to somehow win the random ludicrous lottery of getting the chance to hang out with you one on one, was when his apartment was an absolute fucking mess with his cat being brattier than usual, her still plopped on the vacuum as he accepted defeat— continuing to hastily suck up the rest of the liter with her meowing away.

and he zipped through his place, to and fro as yuta stumbled away picking up scattered laundry or random pieces of trash he happened to spot as he went, all while simultaneously mopping and dusting and disinfecting and trying his hardest to get his apartment to look decent for you, and not a fucking shithole, wanting you to be comfortable in his home and not feel like you were surrounded by typical manly filth...

he was so nervous he felt like he was going to puke.

“rika let— go kitty you know you’re not supposed to be scratching on that!—”

yuta pulled on her as gently as he possibly could to get her claws unhooked from the fabric of his rug, her defiant hissing and blunt refusal to listen making him increasingly more helpless by the second.

“you mad at me for leaving yesterday?” he shook her body a little in emphasis. “is that what this is?”

“meow!”

“rika— how am i supposed to afford your things if you don’t want me going outside?!—”

“—MEOW!—”

a tiny chime rang through his apartment and he stilled.

“rika.” he lowly spoke, sucking in a breath through his nose. “get your nails out of the rug now.”

her ears flicked.

“meow.”

yuta dropped her and stood up straight to get the door, choosing to give up for the sake of keeping his sanity and not lose it more than he already had.

with shaky clammy hands he reached and unlocked the door, swallowing down the ginormous lump in his throat as he grabbed onto the knob and twisted it, slowly pulling the door open while attempting to cut off his ballistic rapid thoughts and seem normal.

he almost didn’t hear your greeting from how loud his pulse was pounding in his ears.

“hi!” you gorgeously smiled. “i could hear you fighting with rika from down the hall heehee!”

his neck grew hot, twitching and fidgeting in place at the sight of you dolled up.

beautiful thing.

“really?” he laughed breathlessly. “sorry she— she's being bad right now so she might—”

as if on cue a piercing hiss echoed throughout the apartment, yuta immediately snapping his head down behind him to see rika standing there defensively, her back slightly arched and pinpoint pupils shooting daggers at you.

“hey no!” he scolded, bending down to grab her. “what are you doing rika, huh?”

he lifted her overhead to look at her straight on.

“she’s the nicest to me... so handle her gently, okay? as if she were a butterfly or a flower.”

your eyes softened over his words then, gaze trained on yuta as he moved to set rika down on the ground, her shrills of protest smoothing to tiny cute mewls.

“i’m really sorry.” he apologized once more with a weary smile, shuffling to the side to let you in. “she’s never been friendly to anyone...”

you pouted and tilted your head, looking at the disgruntled little kitty as you walked in— rika padding away to settle in her plushy bed in the corner of the living room.

“that’s okay!” you cheerfully reassured, bright eyes looking around his spacious place. “i'm the one invading her space so she’s totally justified.”

“i’m still trying to get her to be nicer though.” yuta shut the door and trailed behind you, anxiously toying with his fingers. “it’s one of the reasons i can’t take her with me to public places... she’ll hiss at anyone who talks to me.”

you giggled and turned to face him, the charms on your purse jingling as you did so.

the sight of you standing in the middle of his apartment was something he thought he’d never get to see.

“it’s because she adores you.” you wrung your hands behind your back and smiled warmly at him, his chest fluttering at the look of it. “can’t blame a girl for loving her man.”

he laughed and nodded, though he couldn’t help but apply those words to you.

it's probably why you stayed with your boyfriend... the reasoning simple enough and easy to digest and yet—

he didn’t like it at all.

yuta quietly cleared his throat.

“you uh— you ready to go?” he felt around his pockets for his keys. “can i get you anything before we leave? i think i have um... iced tea or—”

“oh no i'm okay yu! but thank you!” you grinned. “i actually brought something for you—”

you dug into your purse and moved things around for a little bit before pulling your hand out.

on an offering palm lay a little strawberry puff pastry— adorned with sparkling drizzles of honey glaze and chocolate and powdered sugar, wrapped neatly in plastic wrap and a thin pinky bow to tie it off.

“it’s from the bakery down the street from where i live! as a thank you for letting me tag along with you today.”

yuta stared wide eyed and shocked at the shiny dessert, thinking that you were seriously the purest girl he’d ever come to know, and wondering how in the fuck he was ever going to get over you as his hand slowly reached to take it.

“you didn’t have to buy me anything y/n i— i honestly don’t mind you coming along at all...”

he held the pastry in his grasp like it was the most precious thing he’d ever received.

because it definitely was.

“but thank you!” he sent you a big dazzling smile then, the first one you’ve seen to actually be more genuine and happier, the crinkles by his eyes serving as a testament as he looked down at the dessert again.

you grinned.

he must really love cupcakes!

yuta insisted that he drove the both of you around for the day, and the nerves he felt about having you in his apartment were fucking dumb compared to what he felt now that you were in his car— the scent of your peachy perfume utterly consuming his entire being as he drove to the nearest pet store, a deathly grip on the steering wheel, knuckles dead white and his posture rigid, yuta trying with his life to slow his breathing and not make his jitters obvious while listening to you talk.

“did you have lunch yet yu?” you asked, scouring around in your bag again. “maybe we can get something to eat after we get rika her kitty tree.”

“we could do that yeah.” he replied softly, head briefly turning in your direction to see you pull out a small handheld digital camera, adorned with bubbly glittering stickers of hearts and stars and anything else of the like, a charmed strap that faintly rattled every time you moved.

yuta squeakily laughed as you proceeded to then snap multiple pictures of him, snapshot after snapshot as you loomed over the console to get the angles you wanted, a rising blush to his cheeks at your close proximity and the way your perfume wafted in his nostrils, all of it unfortunately causing him to turn his face away and practically hide.

you giggled and leaned back against your seat just as he made a left.

“sorry yu. you're my favorite victim for pictures.”

his heart made a little leap.

a— a favorite?

“i can’t imagine i'm a very good one...” he shyly smiled at you before pulling into the pet store’s parking lot.

you offendedly gasped.

“what in the world— yuta do you have any idea how perfectly candid you are like— all of the time?”

the blush on his cheeks deepened.

“candid?” he pulled into the first spot he found, switching his gear to park and shutting off the ignition.

“yeah! like you’re naturally just in your own element every time i see you.” you shrugged. “everything you do is honest and like... unguarded in a way. you're not at all performative which is something i appreciate a lot.”

yuta could only stare as you explained.

“and it comes across beautifully in photographs.” you finished off gently. “that’s why you’re my favorite.”

he eventually gave you a singular stiff nod, swallowing. “r— right.”

your perspective on the simplest of things was what yuta loved most about you.

and he guessed it was quite fitting for someone like you— a photographer who’s entire purpose and career was to take simple things and interpret them with a lens that was vastly different from others, to find the meaning in something that probably didn’t need nor have one and yet you managed to find it, capturing it and turning it into a project that was entirely your own, to expose that said meaning, showcasing it in a way that made it easier for others to finally understand and take notice of.

and maybe that’s what you'd done with him... maybe that was the reason why you cheered him up after every failing practice or game, or refused to let him talk negatively about himself, or why you even gave him the time of day when his other teammates could probably give way more than he ever could.

or why you quietly sat with him after being the reason for a big loss for his team, his head hung low, your hands folded in your lap, not saying anything and just offering you, your presence and the sound of your rhythmic breathing subconsciously aiding in pulling him from his overbearing thoughts of failure... instead exchanging them for counting your breaths or what kind of charm strap you had on your camera this time.

you were always switching them out depending on the day. sometimes they were dangling fruits, or little pink hearts, or stars.

though the small bears were particularly his favorite.

“...yu?”

he jumped and snapped his head up, turning to look at you.

“y— yeah? yes?”

“are you okay?” you frowned a bit. “you looked upset i— fuck was it because of what i said?—”

“no!—”

without realizing he reached and quickly took your hand, holding it gently in his as he shook his head side to side.

“no.” he repeated. “i was just... thinking.”

you laughed then. “you’re always thinking yuta.”

neither of you seemed to notice that he was holding your hand.

“i’ll have you know by the way that itsuki is my least favorite victim.” you quipped. “i hardly even edit over his pictures. i leave the breakouts on his face because fuck that guy.”

he couldn’t help but burst out laughing, you following suit as the two of you leaned over in a fit of snickers and hiccups, both your hearts healing and feeling happy for two entirely different reasons, yet the outcome was the same.

you were of the same rhythm.

his eyes flickered down and he stilled.

hands— soft— your hands—

“oh god i'm so sorry!—” he ripped his hands away and you jumped in your seat.

“what?! what?!—”

“i didn’t mean it i swear i didn’t realize i'm so sorry!—”

“oh! yu it’s fine don’t worry—”

“i’m being so fucking weird i'm sorry—”

“yuta holy hell relax!—”

once you both managed to get inside, it didn’t take long for yuta to pick out a cat tree for rika, since he knew that girl like the back of his hand and had her likes and dislikes engraved in his mind like a vice, more so for the reason that he’d never hear the end of her meowing complaints if she didn’t like it.

but he funnily dragged out his decision making for the purpose of dragging the hang out for a little while longer with you...

“oh! what about this one?” you excitedly pointed to a cream colored cat tree, filled with small obstacles and ridges that rika could run her claws over. “does she like this color? aww it has a little extra nook! she can take naps in that instead of fucking up your apartment.”

he giggled. “very true! i don’t think she’ll be a big fan of the little dangling ball things though.” he pointed to what he was referring to. “i’ve bought her an obstacle course with that before and she threatened me.”

you snorted, wholeheartedly amused at the fact that yuta’s cat seemed like she was a tiny dictator.

“i wish i had a cat.” you pouted. “reno hates them.”

he raised a brow as the two of you continued walking down the aisle.

“don’t you live on your own?” he asked you, and you nodded.

“yeah but— he’s over all the time so it’d be kind of an issue... OH! look at that one! i think she’d love that one!—”

he frowned.

“y/n it’s your apartment...” he countered softly, following where you were pointing and almost chuckling, as it was actually the exact cat tree he had picked out already for rika.

“no i know.” you smiled up at him. “i just want him to be comfortable while he’s over... i would hate for him not to be.”

yuta pursed his lips, begrudgingly accepting your response and choosing to move on despite the gnawing in his head.

“that one’s good!” he pointed to the cat tree. “good eye heeh! she’ll love that one.”

“really?!” you gushed, your twinkling little eyes hyperactively scouring over the tree. “oh i'm so happyyy! hopefully i get on her good side with it.”

he laughed and took note of the product number so he could report back to the cashier. “you will! i'll tell her you picked it out.”

the two of you then began your trek down to the front desk, the pet store nearly entirely vacant except for a few individuals here and there passing through various aisles, the soft hum of radio music buzzing through the building as you walked and chatted along.

“what do you feel like eating for lunch?” yuta sent you a friendly smile, amused at the way you were taking pictures of practically everything with your digital camera.

“hm?” you swiveled your body around in his direction without taking the device away from your face, the lens pointed directly at him now.

“oh anything yu! i'm not picky.” you snapped a picture of him, the flash going off briefly as you did so. “you can choose.”

yuta showed the cashier the product number once they got to the front, them nodding before disappearing off somewhere in the back.

“mmmm...” he leaned his hip against the register and crossed his arms, eyes trailing to the big windows at the front of the store with a clear view of the outside. “is there anything you prefer? maybe we can—”

he paused, gaze catching a familiar area across the street from the plaza— bustling with people as they walked through several grouped tents and stands, their arms packed full of goodies or paper shopping bags.

“oh the farmer’s market is today!” yuta turned his head to look at you again. “i’ve heard it's really nice!”

“is it?” you asked with a growing smile, standing on your tippy toes and craning your body around to try and see for yourself.

“uh huh!” yuta raised a hand then to nervously scratch the back of his neck. “do you... do you maybe wanna go there? see what they have and we can get something to eat there? if— if you’re okay with that?”

you frantically nodded, completely and heartily in love with the proposed idea as you excitedly looked out the window again.

“oh my god yes can we?! i looove farmer’s markets so much there’s always a stand with a fuck ton of charms—”

your boyfriend had been blowing up your phone pretty much the second you and yuta got to the pet store, all to which you ignored— hitting the mute button and shoving it somewhere in your bag as the two of you loaded up rika’s cat tree, the thing coming in a rather huge box that you made sure was secured snug in the backseat of his car, the both of you starting your walk across the street to the farmer’s market after.

yuta didn’t think he’d ever seen you in this sort of lighting before, with the barely setting sunny rays glooming over your skin and pretty face, your eyes seemingly more brilliant than earlier as they glimmered with each time you turned your head just the right way with the sun, or as they enthusiastically looked over the mountains of produce or endless bouquets in particular stands that you browsed.

and he grinned warmly with every moment you especially lit up at various selections of apricots or peaches, or buckets of lilies wrapped up in newspaper— stopping each time to gently graze your fingertips along the petals and mention how beautiful they were.

yuta didn’t think he’d ever get to do any of this with you... and yet here he was anyway, sharing a basket full of freshly washed strawberries with you as you walked along the busy market, chatting away about almost everything and anything under the sun, like you always seemed to do whenever you found yourselves together, stuttering and fumbling over his words but okay with it so long as it made you laugh.

it was a price he was more than happy to pay.

“how is it that you can’t remember how you started playing football?” you quirked a brow, a hand hovering over your mouth as you munched on a strawberry. “you lying to me yu?”

“no i’m not i swear!” he giggled boyishly, looking down at the fruity basket and picking up another berry. “i don’t know why but i genuinely can’t remember... i have shit memory.”

“you are lying to me.” you swallowed, turning your head as your eyes briefly caught another bucket of cutey lilies while you strolled along. “you’re the one that reminds me half of the time that i've left my water bottle behind in your cubby.”

yuta shyly snickered some more, biting down on the fruit and speaking through chews. “it's like i kind of remember playing it... around maybe when i was seven? eight? but nothing much before that. it's kind of a blur to me.”

you disappointedly sighed, dissatisfied with the fact that you’d never come to know the origins of how a kind boy like yuta became interested in douchey football.

“oh this one’s really good!” he cheerily beamed suddenly, your mind snapping out of its thoughts as you turned your head.

“what?” you perked up. “the strawberry?”

“mhm!” he chewed some more. “all of them are but this one is really sweet.”

“oh! can i try?”

“—‘course!—”

just as yuta thought you meant to try one from the basket, you stopped and leaned over to try his, your lips enclosing around the area that he just bit before gnawing down yourself, yuta’s heart dropping to the pits of his ass and his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

indirectkissindirectkissindirectki—

your lips gradually slid off the strawberry and you munched a little, your expression sparkling up as the extra sweet flavoring coated your tongue and tastebuds, nodding vigorously with a growing closed lipped smile.

“you’re so right!” you gushed, carefully wiping the tiny juice remnants from the corners of your mouth. “aw lucky you yuta! you picked a tasty one heehee!”

yuta remained frozen in place, watching you.

he didn’t know why that made heat rush through every fucking corner of his system, his sick brain replaying what you’d just done again and again as his gaze trickled down to the strawberry— glistening and shiny from just being wrapped around your plush lips.

timidly then— he lifted the fruit and brought it to his mouth, mind entirely blank as his own lips enclosed around where yours had just been to take a bite, yuta’s movements lingering and slow, but with a head that ran fucking rampant at the fact that he was basically savoring up the traces of your pretty mouth...

and somehow the berry tasted even sweeter this time around.

yuta couldn’t bring himself to look at you in the eyes after that as he chewed, for he was too busy simmering in his sheepishness while you continued to skip around and excitedly pull him to different stands, having him pose next to varieties of fruits and veggies so you could snap a photo with your camera.

it was genuinely all too much for him to take, but he didn’t give a shit. not with the way you looked at him and only him in this moment... giggling with him and— talking to him like he wasn’t the biggest fuck up in the world... but someone who was important. special.

you were about to prance off to a little charm stand— the first one you finally managed to come across— when you felt a hand snake around your wrist then, gently stopping you for a moment and you looking over your shoulder to see yuta, an unreadable expression on his face as he looked down at you.

you curiously tilted your head, and he blushed, diverting his gaze off to the side and raising his other arm to scratch the back of his neck.

what the fuck was he even doing?—

“is everything okay?” you asked softly, and his dilated pupils shot back to you.

“y— yeah! i—” he struggled, arm falling back over his side and the hold around your wrist slightly tightening, swallowing the tickling lump in his throat as he stared.

“...hi.”

you blinked before giggling, a cheeky smile bursting through your face as you did so.

“hi yu...” you replied, voice so sweet and soft that his knees nearly gave out.

why couldn’t it be him?

why couldn’t you be with someone that didn’t make you cry?

there were so many things that he wanted to say to you, and a million more other things he fucking couldn’t, everything that was you hitting him like a brick all at once and torturing him, taunting him... dangling a girl like you over his head and laughing in his face at the fact that you could never be with a guy like him.

even if your boyfriend was out of the picture... you were simply way out of his league. you were never meant to be with him.

“...yu?”

slowly, his fingers slipped from your wrist and he let you go, a sunken look to his eyes as he kept his head down.

“s— sorry i don’t—”

you then caught his wrist and he stilled, watching as you raised a hand and ran a gentle fingertip over his undereyes.

“you need sleep yu... how many times do i have to tell you hm?”

he needed you.

because your genuine concern, and the look of your brows slightly pinching together as your gaze stayed focused and anxious on the deep bags under his eyes, nearly made him stupidly fucking blurt that he loved you.

“m’sorry...” he sent you a wobbly smile, and you reciprocated with a tender one of your own. “rika keeps me up at night.”

“you and i both know it’s not just rika.”

you sighed through your nose and let your arm fall back to your side, your other hand giving his wrist a reassuring squeeze.

“you need to stop— letting them so much into your head yu…” you stressed softly. “your management, your teammates, the— the public or whoever… you can’t keep caring so much about what they think of you.”

there wasn’t ever a day that went by where you weren’t worrying about yuta… especially on days where you were all clocked in for practice or team meet ups, you baring witness to most of yuta’s hardships as he was constantly being told his ear off over certain play mistakes on the field, or weekly goals he was just barely managing to meet— his teammates weirdly harboring rights to make comments about anything at him that pissed you off like nothing else in your life.

“s’hard…” he weakly laughed, his pinks cheeks growing deeper as he held your worried gaze. “it’s a constant thing… but i’ve— i’ve grown thick skin to it! i promise i have.”

he smiled comfortingly at you, though your expression didn’t change.

“but you shouldn’t have to.” you shook your head. “you shouldn’t have to do that in the first place and just— do you. as cheesy as it sounds.”

“y/n—”

“you know what i think?”

he paused, his sleep deprived eyes searching yours for a beat before quietly responding.

“what?”

“i think fuck your management, fuck your teammates, and fuck anyone who gives you shit about anything that has to do with what you do on the field.”

you gripped his wrist tighter for reasons you didn’t know nor really understood, but it was almost like— desperation for him to get you to comprehend what you were saying… to believe it, you grasping at anything just so he could find the will to not care and finally let himself flourish at games, without the brooding habit of constantly checking over his shoulder in fear of someone’s unsolicited opinion.

“and you—”

you pressed a gentle finger to the middle of his chest and planted the tip there, a crawling tingly feeling spreading out underneath his shirt by it.

“—should think that way too yuta.”

you tilted your head.

“do you have any idea how much shit i’ve gotten from so many people in this industry because of what i do? and because i don’t have a dick?”

a giggling snort burst through his lips, and you grinned at that.

“i’m serious!” you laughed. “a lot of the time people don’t take me seriously… so they’re bratty and give me attitude and think my pictures are stupid.”

yuta’s face immediately dropped into a frown.

“they’re not stupid—”

you interjected. “i know that… do you see?”

you sent him another kind smile, the rest of your fingers subconsciously unraveling to settle flat over his chest in comfort.

“i get shit from people left and right but i know that my pictures are great just the way they are. i don’t need anyone critiquing my technique or telling me to change— whatever… i figured that out on my own.”

you looked at him pointedly. “—and without following anyone’s expectations... so allow yourself to do that.”

with each genuine sentence that flowed through your lips, they inexplicably moved him, so much so that his brain almost couldn’t fucking process how much of it made sense, and how much of it actually helped him— finally alleviating the sense of burden he felt for himself that he spent never ending hours judging and— and loathing just because everybody else did.

except you.

it was never you that did that.

you were always forgiving and levelheaded, firm in your own decisions about your career and who you were as a person, yuta spending practically every moment of his life since he’d met you watching how resilient you were, how you never let anyone talk down on you a certain way or— give the time of day to those who didn’t deserve it.

you were confident. bright and full of ambition and everything yuta idolized and cherished.

and the way you looked now as he stared with wide wonder filled eyes, you wholeheartedly representing a gorgeous walking angel that cared too much and worried tenfold about someone as painfully average as him, you actually seeing something in him despite the fact that he’d proven time and time again that there wasn't anything to see...

was the most painful yet beautiful privilege he had ever been given the fleeting chance to have. and yuta would never take that for granted, even when the time came to part from you for good due to the way life just was.

you were caught off guard by yuta’s random quiet burst of laughter then, squeaky and skittish and one you absolutely adored, the biggest of smiles stretching across his face as he held his gaze with you, a little happy twinkle in his eye with a hand over his mouth to try and mush his giggling.

“what?” you laughed along confusedly, your hand on his chest withdrawing to your side.

he quickly waved you off, an expression of fondness creeping in.

“you know what i think?”

you blinked. “w— what yu?”

“i think… that i wish i could be just like you.”

you stilled.

“y’know… strong. and determined.” he continued, the wrist you held carefully twisting in your grasp to cradle your hand— palm over palm as he stared down at them. “with you saying fuck everyone n’their expectations... i want to be like that.”

you tried to ignore the pounding in your chest, swallowing the lump in your throat as your own eyes stayed trained to where your palms met, the hustle and bustle of the packed farmer’s market completely drowning over from where the two of you stood, isolating you until it was just you and him and the feeling of his palm.

the warmth of the sun made itself comfy on the skin of your hands, on yuta’s tall frame and on the side of his sweet face... and somehow that really confused you.

why were you confused?

“well i've— i've also gotten in trouble for it in the past so...” your shy eyes briefly flickered up to meet his before they quickly diverted. “find a good middle ground heh...”

“but it’s also gotten you where you are now, right?”

your gaze slowly dragged up to see yuta already looking at you— an aura of ease to him.

“they don’t just hand out your kind of position like candy y/n.” he murmured softly. “so don’t change the way you hold yourself... and don’t let anyone disrespect you either.”

he was truly the sweetest boy ever.

and god you were so fucking confused, but the only thing that undoubtedly made sense to you and felt right was yuta... you pursing your lips before unexpectedly reaching out and wrapping your arms around his torso, pulling him into a squeezing hug as you shut your eyes tight, the side of your cheek pressed to his chest.

you had never had anyone say something like that to you... so it was nice to hear from someone’s opinion you valued very very much.

yuta felt his heart stop and a breath catch in his throat.

“thank you for hanging out with me today yu...” you quietly spoke, your embrace only tightening as yuta tried his best not to pass out. “and for everything else.”

you were hugging him.

just like he’d pictured before except— the real thing was softer.

and smelled like peach perfume.

hesitantly, slowly... he brought his own arms to snake around your shoulders, bringing you in further to his chest as you held him without any means of letting go as of this moment, him hoping that you wouldn’t feel nor hear the rapid beating of his heart while he hugged you back.

“you’re— you’re welcome.”

against his better judgement he craned his neck down, ever so gently leaning his cheek against the side of your head, guiltily wanting to further engulf himself in the sugary scent of you.

“you okay?” he murmured, and he felt you silently nod against his chest.

were you?

when was the last time you felt this way? have you ever?

and... when was the last time reno asked if you were okay? or didn’t make you feel like it was your fault for getting in trouble at your previous jobs because you stood up for yourself?

why was he such a piece of shit sometimes and yet— you always forgave him? why were you letting yuta down by allowing reno to do that..?

at the overwhelming reminder of him, it was like a switch went off in your brain, a bitter one that pulled you from the friendly kindness of yuta and back into the reality that your boyfriend wasn’t the man he used to be.

you pulled away and sent yuta a weak smile, taking a step back and readjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder.

“don’t let anyone disrespect you too, alright?” you pushed with a quirking brow, and he laughed, nodding as he crossed his arms over his chest— trying to ignore the sinking feeling he got when you pulled away.

“work hard and make them feel stupid yuta.”

you chose not to attempt to make sense of whatever the fuck was going on in your head in regards to yuta.

it's not like you could’ve anyway, because you just didn’t fucking know, the only thing being very abundantly clear to you was that yuta was the greatest friend you had probably ever had in your life.

because he spent the rest of your hangout catering to you, making you giggle or pointing out various things he thought you’d like at the farmer’s market, him sometimes coming out of butt fuck nowhere with a glittery charm strap for you that he believed you’d love, which you in fact freaking did, profusely sputtering out how much it was and to let you pay for it, all to which he refused every single time and turned a blind eye, even when you threatened him.

your warnings grew in hostility when he didn’t let you pay for literally anything, especially when it came to grabbing a bite to eat at the first proper food stand you both saw, you trying to jump around his broad frame or squeeze yourself in between him and the cash register to shove through your card, but yuta simply taking repeated steps to block you out— snickering at your huffing and puffing and giving you a pat to the head.

you couldn’t remember the last time you hung out with someone and had such a blast... to the point where you really didn’t want to go home at the end of the day.

but that was okay, you’d see yuta on monday!

“what the hell is that.”

flopping your purse down on the kitchen island upon arriving home, you gave reno a look before your eyes dropped back down to what he was holding.

“chocolates.” he replied, holding the lavish ribboned box out for you. “to say sorry.”

you tiredly breathed out through your nose as you stared at it, shaking your head after a few moments.

“don’t want it.”

you went to step around him and he quickly grabbed your upper arm, stopping you.

“no— babe c’mon wait—”

“what reno...” you sighed. “i thought you’d be gone by now it’s late.”

“why, you trying to get rid of me?” he snorted. “i got you chocolates babe come on... don’t be like that.”

“thanks now go traffic is heavy right now—”

he tossed the box off to the side on the island and wrung you in by your arm, stuffing your face in his chest.

“stop y/n.” he mumbled. “seriously i don’t wanna fight.”

neither did you? why was he just making it seem like it was you that—

“you know i love you. right?”

you bit down hard on your tongue, his words for some reason stinging rather than doing what they were supposed to do.

“hey—”

he squeezed you a bit, and you looked up.

“you wanna say it back to me? you know i've been stressed from work i thought you’d understand that.”

you pursed your lips. “i— i do—”

“but you’re acting like i did something awful.” he countered. “makes me feel like a shitty bad boyfriend—”

“no i—” you quickly shook your head, your heart aching a little as you pulled back a bit. “i don’t mean to do that m’sorry...”

“it’s just hard like— you know i care about you... i don’t know why you’re questioning that y/n. i’m trying my best—”

you gnawed on your bottom lip as he kept talking, feeling like utter shit that you’d made him feel this way and added on to the pile of stress he already had.

you knew his work was incredibly taxing and demanding... it probably wasn’t nice for him to deal with you leaving like that earlier instead of just... spending time with him...

“i really am sorry reno.” you mumbled, and he paused his tangent, a sigh flowing through his lips before he leaned down and pressed a quick peck to your head.

“it’s all good. i just don’t wanna keep fighting y’know? it sucks when you always assume the worst of me sometimes...”

you solemnly nodded.

god why were you such a bitch?

you were always mourning the man he was and yet he was right fucking there in front of you. it was you that kept driving him away and— and making him this way...

you were just expecting too much of him...

you stood on your tippy toes for a small kiss, kindly smiling up at him after.

“thank you for the chocolates ren.”

that was often how it went for you both.

reno would fuck up, you’d get mad, you’d fight, you’d storm off to god knows where until you had enough of a head to come back, he’d give some kind of gift that was waiting for you in the kitchen or your bedroom, and you’d forgive him, along with the bundle of explanations he had for you as to why he did what he did.

and it hurt yes... but you couldn’t blame him nor did you. he just had a lot on his plate and needed patience from you, and you couldn’t understand why that was so difficult for you to just wrap your little dumb brain around the task and be nicer to him.

thankfully though, the weeks that followed up until the homecoming game reno and you barely fought or had issues with each other, you spending most of your time together at your apartment watching movies or just lounging around ordering in food, content to be cuddled up with him and have him without any bickering or disappointments, which definitely helped you stay focused for the big day instead of running your head nonstop through whatever recent argument you’d had with him.

“nanami you need to smile more.”

“i am smiling.”

you snorted and playfully rolled your eyes, holding your big chunky camera back over your face to continue photographing.

“maybe try with teeth.” yuta suggested from the spot next to you, his own quiet laughter that he poorly tried to mask further edging you on into a fit of giggles.

“i apologize y/n.” nanami readjusted his footing and switched the ball to tuck underneath his other beefy arm. “i’m afraid i'm not the greatest with photos.”

you gawked.

“are you kidding kento? do you have any idea how many emails i get from the girlies asking to have you shirtless for the yearly calendar?”

nanami stilled in surprise, a rising hue to his cheeks.

“i— well—”

“i get hundreds of them. hundreds. and i don’t blame them.”

“neither do i.” yuta shrugged with a cheeky grin as you continued clicking away, the camera shuddering with each photo you took. “but maybe you should nanami! you’re retiring soon i think this could be a farewell gift to your lady friends.”

“lady friends.” nanami repeated, voice smooth and levelled as he quirked a brow. “i don’t believe i follow.”

“your fangirls.” you cut in, craning your body a certain way to capture the angle you wanted. “your sluts if you will. your good precious girls—”

yuta burst out laughing as nanami stood there like he’d just seen a fucking ghost, his cheeks pinker than ever as he cleared his throat and tried to get his head straight.

“i— pardon—”

you gasped and popped your head up from your camera.

“wait but would you actually?!”

“absolutely not.”

“nanammiiii!—”

“ten minutes ‘til kickoff!”

several players nodded or gruffed along in response at the announcement, the locker room's ambience picking up in speed and urgency as everyone tried to get in their finishing touches of prep, nervous jitters flying all around with articles of clothing being chucked across the room for some fucking reason that made you laugh.

you turned to yuta then, planting a heavy hand on his bulky shoulder pad and giving him a single shake.

“you ready?” you cutely beamed up at him, and he gulped. “to make them feel stupid?”

“i feel stupid.”

you giggled as your hand slid off him. “stop yu the game hasn’t even started yet... you’ll do just fine.”

“i hope so.” his lips curved into a wobbly smile as he looked down at you, his eyes briefly flickering to the dangling charm strap you had on your camera, the one he bought for you at the farmer’s market, his heart doing a little somersault at the sight even if he’d already seen you with it multiple times.

“you like it?” he asked quietly, his head nudging to the charm.

your head dropped to where he was signaling before it snapped back up, your eyes wide and shimmery.

“yes! oh absolutely yu i love it so much!”

he laughed softly and nodded, a happy little closed lipped smile on his face as his eyes trailed over your bubbly expression, remembering the moment when the two of you had stood just like this... and you hugged him.

he felt incredibly silly for still being hung up on that when it was weeks ago that it happened.

but what was even worse was the fact that he’d even fucking dreamt about it like a creep, entirely mortified by his subconscious mind that it’d snap him out of his sleep— lying awake for the rest of the night until the sun came up and rika was relentlessly meowing from down the hall for food.

“okkotsu.”

he pulled himself from his thoughts and turned to the source, nanami standing by the locker room exit with his helmet in hand.

“the cheerleaders are performing now on the field. you'll be able to speak to miss y/l/n after the game.”

yuta froze in alarm.

“oh yes! of course!” he nervously laughed, scratching the back of his neck and fucking flustered. “i’ll— i'll be right there...”

with a singular nod nanami stepped through the doors and left, leaving the both of you alone in the cleared-out locker room.

“you should probably get going.” you smiled sweetly before setting your camera down, adjusting the strap so the device hung by your hip. “i’ll see you out there? look serious so i can take good pictures.”

“sure thing!” he cheekily grinned, shiny and big and one that made you pause a bit to look at. “i’ll definitely try.”

you placed a palm on his padded up chest and gave him a pat.

“and play yu. just play. don't pay attention to anyone else okay?”

yuta had lost count of how many instances he had where he wanted to kiss you.

much like now, the feeling so freaking unbearable that he had to physically step back away from you, your hand slipping from the fabric of his jersey as he did.

“i will.” he swallowed, eyes everywhere but yours— his change of demeanor making you raise a quizzical brow. “don’t worry heh...”

“what’s wrong.”

he stiffened and his gaze shot to you.

“e— eh?”

“you’re easy to read yuta what’s wrong tell me—”

he wants to shove his tongue inside your mouth that’s what’s fucking wrong—

“nothing! n— nothing i swear!—”

“yuta.”

“i swear i swear please i swear!—”

“okkotsu we’re lining up!”

yuta's teammate came to his saving and he booked it to the exit.

“i’ll see you on the field!” he called out to you, and you grumbled where you stood.

there was definitely something with him...

you waved goodbye and he slipped through the doors, your mind only preoccupied with his weird behavior for a few seconds until it switched to something graver.

his performance for the homecoming game. and the outcome.

“it hasn’t been an easy night for the heartliners so far ladies and gentlemen! they’ve struggled to move the ball and that scoreboard reflects it.”

“— yeeaah that you are right buddy! they’re unfortunately down ten points behind the opposing team and time is starting to become a problem... though surprisingly not at the fault of yuta okkotsu this time around—”

you rolled your eyes and turned down the volume of your radio, pulling an earbud out and readjusting the strap of your camera.

how the fuck were commentators even allowed to make comments like that?

as much as it pissed you off, they were thankfully correct, because yuta was in fact not at fault for the horrendous play his team was doing against the opposing, them basically handing out touchdown’s like nothing almost every minute due to their big fat ego’s, as if them just shy of making it to the superbowl was something to boast about a whole season later.

“hey! y/l/n!”

you spun around to see itsuki, standing by the refreshment station with a squeeze water bottle in hand.

god.

“what can i help you with itsuki?” you replied, clicking around in the settings of your camera as you walked up to him.

“you enjoying the game?”

“i—”

“hey when’s the newsletter dropping?” he interjected, tipping his head back to squeeze a stream of water into his mouth, gulping it down. “i wanna see the pictures you took of me.”

“uhhh probably sometime by the end of next week.” you sighed, your eyes trailing over the active field to try and spot yuta. “i need to get homecoming game photos before i start editing all the other ones.”

“oh sweet! you got any of me yet?” he grinned, and you had to bite down on the inside of your cheek to refrain from snapping at him.

“nope.”

he gawked. “what?! why not?!”

“because the last time we had a photo session you were bratty and annoying.”

itsuki scoffed. “yeah right like i was... you just weren’t doing your job i had to fix—”

“what the hell are you saying?”

your heart leaped at the familiar voice, spinning around to see yuta himself with furrowed brows and a sweaty flushed face, chest slightly pumping from just getting off the field.

“what.” itsuki shrugged.

“don’t talk to her like that man she works with us not for us.”

“i didn’t even say anything? you must be glad though you’re not fucking up the game for once—”

“oh hell no— itsuki!”

your bark made him shut his mouth and look at you.

“the hell’s the matter with you? piss off and go sit back down on the bench.”

“who are you, the coach?” itsuki rolled his eyes. “i’m not listening to shit from you—”

“itsuki knock it off i said don’t talk to her like that—”

“and what makes you think i'm gonna listen to you okkotsu? hm?” itsuki spat at him. “lowest stats on a player i've ever seen—”

you stepped forward and yuta quickly flung his hands on your shoulders to stop you.

“well maybe you should start dingbat! you haven’t scored a single touchdown and you’re benched today for being a moron—”

“itsuki! you bothering the photographer again?!”

itsuki's face dropped and he turned his body to look behind him, the coach for the team standing there a few feet away with narrowed eyes.

“no sir!—”

“the hell are you doing off the bench anyway? go sit!”

itsuki huffed and tossed his water bottle in the refill bucket, not sparing you nor yuta another glace before trudging his way through the grass to get back on the bench, muttering to himself.

“what is wrong with him?” yuta mumbled, his serious eyes watching itsuki’s back for a moment until they switched down to meet yours. “are you okay?”

“oh i'm good! i don't care about that man don’t worry.” you waved him off. “he can spit at me whatever his heart desires i couldn’t care less.”

yuta relaxed a little in relief, though that didn’t get rid of the absolute irritation he felt for itsuki talking to you like that.

similar to whenever he heard your boyfriend do it.

“i’m proud of you, yu!” you gushed suddenly, and he smiled a little.

“yeah? what for?”

“for playing so well!” you smiled brightly. “you're really holding down the fort from where you’re stationed on the field. i got really great photos of you!”

a look of surprise crossed his face and he let out a breathy laugh.

“r— really? i feel like i'm not doing much...”

“you’ve caught every ball nanami’s thrown at you, right?” you tilted your head. “you’re a quarterback’s dream right now heehee!”

jesus how lovely you were.

“i— thanks!” he widely grinned, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his arm. “i appreciate it y/n.”

“mhm! maybe after the game we c—”

you paused suddenly and pressed into your earbud, listening for a bit before pursing your lips to the side.

“sorry yu i gotta go.” you pouted. “communications wants specific shots from the other side of the field.”

“oh that’s okay!” he kindly replied. “i’ll see you later?”

“yes!” you began taking a few steps back. “i’ll come find you in the locker room’s after the game!”

he sent you a thumbs up and you fully turned around, making your way through the sidelines to get to where you needed to go.

yuta was glad he was able to be of good use to you for pictures today, and even more at the fact that he wasn’t screwing up the game like he typically did, it sincerely being because of what you had told him the day you both went to the market, your advice so incredibly impactful and genuine to him that he couldn’t help but hold onto it and adore it with his entire heart.

it wasn’t like you never told him things like that though, because you always did almost every single time he saw you... but maybe it was because it was during a setting that was outside of the stadium and workplace, or because you just looked so fucking pretty to him under the golden light of the sun, whichever it was he didn’t know nor really needed to know.

the point was that you believed in him.

“you thinking about her again?”

yuta jumped out of his skin and snapped his head towards the voice, his shoulders immediately relaxing once he realized it was his cheerleader friend, a breath of relief slipping past his lips as he threw his head back.

“oh my god you scared the shit out of me.”

“sorry!” she giggled. “sorry sorry... but you were i could tell you little lovesick man.”

his cheeks burned over and he fidgeted from where he stood.

“how— how do you know...”

“yuta you were literally just staring at her walking with drool coming out of your mouth.” she shook her head and set her pompom cladded hands on her hips. “guilty i say.”

he laughed and looked down, scuffing his cleats against the grass below.

“i should really stop making it so obvious...” he spoke softly. “she’s gonna catch me one day.”

“no!” the cheerleader quickly blurted, pompoms flailing out in front of her for emphasis before she dropped them. “oh absolutely not okkotsu you’re not doing that. you're not giving up on your wife.”

yuta snapped his head up with humongous wide eyes.

“my— my—”

“mhm yup yup!” she pointed a silly index finger up in the air and wagged it. “your wife your lover the mother of your children—”

with every word that flew out of her mouth— flashed a picture perfect image of each scenario, all of which did nothing but strangle his poor little heart and make him desperately try to simmer down the butterflies in his stomach.

“i feel horrible...” he mumbled, his eyes trailing over to you taking photographs on the other side of the field. “i like her so much and i... i genuinely think it’s getting worse man.”

the cheerleader sadly pouted, matching his line of sight to you out there.

having to hear yuta hopelessly in love with you and miserable was torture for her... as the cheerleader completely understood and empathized with the dilemma of loving someone you couldn’t have.

“because you love her yuta... yeah?”

he was silent for a moment before wordlessly nodding, an expression of guilt and remorse on his face.

“yeah.”

“tell her.” she gently pushed. “please man watching you keep this all inside is making me go fucking loony i don't know how much more of this i can take i worry about you like i birthed and breastfed you—”

yuta burst out laughing and he shook his head, simmering down a little to speak again.

“you know i can’t do that...” he trailed off.

“and why not.”

“her boyfriend...”

“what— the lowlife meanie?” she leaned her weight on one hip. “no mercy for him i don’t care.”

he sadly smiled at her, the both of them holding eye contact for a bit until the cheerleader eventually sighed.

“i know i know...” she spoke softly, her gaze switching to the field. “i’m so sorry yuta i really am...”

the two of them knew that it was no use, that it was inevitable unless you took a stand and put an end to your relationship that did nothing but hurt you and kept you blind to the fact.

“please don’t give up anyway yuta.” the cheerleader smiled sweetly at him, a twinkle of gloom in her eyes that matched his. “i know it seems impossible but i... i swear she’ll realize it soon. i'm still hoping for it.”

her kindness tugged at him, and he nodded, tearing his gaze away from you to look at her.

“thank you.” he gave her a pat to the head before retracting his arm back to his side. “i’m still hoping for it too.”

“no but seriously.” she pushed again. “i remember when i was crushing on my boyfriend— i thought that there was no fucking way he could ever feel the same way about me... i was devasted for so long because i convinced myself it was impossible.”

yuta quietly listened along.

“i was in such concerning amounts of denial man... and i was fucking stupid because he was giving me signals left and right that he did in fact like me.”

she bent down and swiped her pompoms up off the floor.

“my point is— i thought i was hopeless and done for for me to ever be with a guy like him... and now i've been with him for two years! sweet right?”

he giggled, nodding with a fond smile on his face. “very sweet! i'm happy for you.”

“thank you!” she smiled. “i’m saying that you’re not hopeless and done for either... she’ll come around yuta. you deserve so much to be with a girl like her.”

that was something that yuta truly didn’t believe... for a girl like you was way too good for him and way too out of his league...

was it okay for him to think for a little that maybe— he did deserve the right to have you..?

“oh!— here comes mommy i gotta go so you can have her all to yourself—”

yuta choked on his spit at what the cheerleader said, his cheeks blazing red and her doubling over in a fit of laughter.

“i’m— i'm sorry are you okay?! i— HAH!— it’s true though she’s such a mommy!—”

“who is?” you cut in.

“NO ONE!” yuta hurriedly tumbled out, panicked hands flying out in front of him as he cupped them over the cheerleaders giggling mouth. “no one is she’s just— she’s just being funny—”

“why are you silencing my girl yu?” you quirked a funny brow and shook your head. “hands down silly boy.”

he listened and instantly dropped his hands, the act only making her cackle.

“hi y/n!” she spoke through her laughter, extending her arms and pulling you in for a friendly hug. “you doing okay?”

“yes i am my love! and you? how's your first homecoming game going? is your boyfriend here to see you?”

“uh huh! he is!” she excitedly nodded, pointing behind her to a guy sitting in the v.i.p section with black spiky hair, dark sunglasses over his eyes. “and it’s going great! i'm tired and my boobs are sweaty but i'm good!”

you giggled.

“but speaking of boyfriends...” she trailed off, wringing her pompom cladded hands behind her back, leaning forward and bouncing on her tippy toes. “how are you with yours?”

yuta squirmed as he stood there, unsure if he should leave to respect your privacy or— or stay—

“oh we’re fine.” you smiled. “our anniversary is in a couple of weeks so i'm looking forward to that.”

he felt his heart ache a little, his eyes briefly catching yours before you both quickly looked away.

“aw how fuunnn!” the cheerleader gushed. “is he still being a dick?”

yuta froze at her forwardness and you laughed.

“thankfully no! can you believe it?” you fiddled a bit with your camera, an expression on your face that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. “he’s been good we just hang out at my apartment and things... but i'll let you know as soon as he pisses me off again!”

again. that was precisely the problem yuta despised so much.

it shouldn’t be again it shouldn't ever be that...

“leave him.”

you cackled then and yuta choked on his spit once more.

“i’m sorry!” she comically slapped her hands over her mouth, speaking through muffles. “i’m sorry i just love you and he makes me so mad and i just want you to be happy and yuta lo—”

yuta felt his soul evaporate from his body as he shot his arms out and wrapped them around her head, shoving her face into the crook of his arm to quiet down her blubbering that damn near spoiled his love for you and killed him.

“ahah! hahaah—”

“yu!” you gasped. “let the girl go you’re suffocating her!”

“she’s fine!” he cheesed, a big smile on his face to mask how much he was shitting it. “did you... did you catch what she said?”

“what— her hate for reno?” you shrugged. “it’s fine it’s warranted i don’t give a fuck.”

both his and the cheerleader's shoulders slumped, thankful that you hadn’t heard her almost slip up as yuta released her, plopping a hand on the top of her head after.

“i’m sorry.” he pouted. “you okay?”

“oh thank god you did that.” she breathed out, an expression of utter horror etched on her face as she shook her head. “jesus christ i need to work on shutting my mouth i have a really bad blabbering problem it’s my worst trait—”

you laughed. “it’s okay! seriously i do not mind one bit. i've had my fair share of those thoughts too my love.”

yuta and her exchanged looks.

the cheerleader didn’t question anything else after that (out of respect... because she would’ve), and the three of you continued to have small talk until she bid her goodbye’s and skipped on over to her boyfriend in the stands, the sight making you and yuta grin as you both watched him bend down and give her a bouquet of flowers from over the railing.

“she’s the sweetest girl ever.” you hummed, sighing softly through your nose. “i’m glad she has a man who values her.”

yuta nodded along, though his eyes stayed transfixed on you— his brows pinched together in worry over something about you that he still couldn’t figure out, nor did he have the courage to ask in fear of upsetting you.

it wasn’t too long after that when the coach called yuta back on the field, his break coming to a fast close as he proceeded to then hastily prep his football gear and helmet for the game, receiving the usual words of encouragement from you with a pat to his chest before you sent him off with a cute smile, an act he looked forward to every time he played.

and today would’ve been a pretty decent day! if it wasn’t for his destined fuck up.

“okkotsu no! cut through the middle!”

your face was contorted into an everlasting wince as you watched yuta play— what was supposed to be an even pass of the ball from one of the quarterbacks to him as the receiver, yuta was unfortunately running in the wrong direction...

“oh! hard watch for the fans! receiver okkotsu was expected to cut across the middle, but he’s running down field!”

“okkotsu cut through the fucking middle! you're gonna miss the ball!” a player yelled from the sidelines, his hands in his hair and your hands drawn to your chest in absolute anxiety, not wanting to accept the fact that yuta’s mistake most likely had just cost them the game...

you watched him swivel a corner then and attempt to cut through the middle of the field, when a defender from the opposing team swooped in out of fucking nowhere and leaped for the ball— it flying directly clean into his hands, landing on his two feet and making a run for it to the end zone to score a touchdown.

“and interception! that's a costly miscommunication from receiver okkotsu and quarterback shotaro.”

“yuup that’ll do it! man i gotta tell ya, i was starting to wonder when okkotsu would make his big oopsie—”

you groaned in irritation before shutting your radio off and yanking both of your earbuds out, already moving to detach the radio equipment from your waist and get it the fuck off of you, trying to block out the mixture of roaring cheers and boo’s from the crowd as the game drew to a losing close.

“you doing alright miss y/l/n?”

you snapped your head up to see nanami, just making it off the field with batted breaths and his face glistening in sweat.

“when are they replacing these commentators?” you shook your head and finally ripped the radio off, chucking it somewhere across the grass by the refreshment station with no fucks given. “they don’t even talk about the game half of the time! they just talk shit about you guys! about yuta!”

nanami slipped his helmet off and wiped the side of his face down with a nearby hand towel.

“i advise you not to grab a radio from this point moving forward.” he spoke. “they’ve been doing this sort of thing since i made it in the nfl.”

“that's the problem!” you whined, craning your body to and fro to try and catch yuta through the massive crowd of players and employee personnel. “this industry is so corrupt and i'm getting sick of it.”

“i understand.” nanami gave you a tiny closed lipped smile, tossing his hand towel over his shoulder. “being mistreated by the nfl is a given when you’re a starter. okkotsu will find his way miss y/l/n... i assure you.”

you hummed in far off acknowledgement, nodding.

“and i assure you’ll find your way to him?”

you stiffened and jerked your head up to look at him.

“e— eh?”

“hm?” he quirked a brow, wiping the sweat off of his neck with his towel. “what is it?”

“i— what do you mean—”

he simply pointed up ahead, your eyes following to see yuta coming off the field with his head hanging low.

the fuck was the matter with you?

“o— oh. right!" you nervously laughed. “thank you nanami... i’ll see you inside?”

“of course.”

you failed to notice the slight knowing lift of nanami’s lips.

“yu!” you called out, jogging up to him. “you doing alright?”

“i'm about to get fucking booted.” he spoke miserably, pulling his helmet off and shaking out the wet strands of his hair. “i fucked up so bad y/n... they’re all gonna kill me.”

“stop silly boy.” you nudged your shoulder with his bicep. “it’s only the homecoming game it’s fine. you guys’ll just have to work a little extra to get back in the running—”

“fuuucckkk fuck fuck fuck—”

yuta ran a hand down his face in exasperation, shaking his head and actively drowning in his thoughts of self-deprivation to try and listen.

“yu—”

“i’m gonna get benched for the rest of the season y/n holy fucking shit and itsuki isn't gonna shut the hell up about it either—”

“yuta do you even remember anything i told you from our day at the market?”

he faltered, eyes flickering to you as you both walked across the stadium field, shoulders slipping past various others through stuffy crowds while you traveled.

how could he forget? he’d be stupid to forget.

“of course i do.” yuta sent you a timid sweet smile. “fuck everyone. hm?”

you singularly nodded, satisfied. “exactly. and it applies to this too.”

you were exactly right.

yuta's anxiety and guilt evidently simmered down much to his surprise, his gaze trailing down to his cleats before speaking again.

“you have anything planned for your anniversary? with your boyfriend?”

you felt a small pit in your stomach then.

“not really...” you laughed. “but it’s still a bunch of weeks away so we’ll probably think of something then!”

except you fucking didn’t. he didn’t.

because the weeks that followed reno was radio silent about your anniversary, you dropping subtle hints that were apparently way too subtle for him as he still made zero mention of the date as time passed on, your mind unfortunately preoccupied with the fear of him— forgetting while you hung out with yuta one on one, or took photos for the team to submit for the nfl network, or while sitting right next to reno on your couch— the fear never leaving you and only increased in size.

you felt it wasn’t fair nor right for you to be the one to bring it up... considering his issue has always been having a bit of a lack with planning because of his stress from work...

which was okay. truly... but you’d be lying if you weren’t hoping for— something when it came to your anniversary.

and you figured you shouldn’t have let your feelings bottle up and flat out ignore them until the day came, because you spent the entirety of it in denial that reno would surprise you with something after you got off work, that he was just trying to help you feel better about working on your anniversary period so he had something special planned up his sleeve, just— anything man anything.

but there wasn’t anything. and the bottle you clogged up with all your denial and disappointment and anger, exploded in the middle of you taking photographs for the team.

“reno— i'm seriously getting so sick of your shit what do you mean you forgot?!”

you stood with your phone pressed to your ear amidst the tunnel by the locker room, thankfully the area vacant as the football players and cheerleaders were out on the field practicing and running drills.

“i thought it was next week? shit i'm sorry babe—”

“you’re sorry?!” you felt tears prickle at your eyes, hands trembling. “how the hell could you think it was next week? i bet you didn’t even know!”

“now don’t start putting words into my fucking mouth y/n i'm stressed out enough—”

“oh my god.” you breathed out in disbelief, shaking your head. “is it really so hard for you to— to plan anything with me or— remember anything?!—”

“you seriously making me feel like shit about this?!” reno raised his voice over the other line. “you had work today anyways let’s just move it to next week whatever.”

“whatever?!”

you spotted yuta’s cheerleader friend from somewhere across the field, her already looking at you with the most worried expression you’d probably ever seen on her face, your tears then spilling and flooding over your cheeks and it enough to make her immediately drop her pompoms and run to you.

“you’re such an asshole sometimes, you know that?!” you sobbed, and the scoff that followed from him angered you.

“and you’re dramatic as hell y/n dear god—”

“—put it on speaker babe put it on speaker.” the cheerleader quietly ushered you once she arrived, attempting to steady her breathing from the jog. “i need to hear what he’s saying.”

with shaky hands and a sob tumbling out of your throat you listened, pulling your phone away from your ear and putting it on speaker.

“you know i almost got fired yesterday from work?!” reno continued. “and now you’re here throwing this in my face?! can you not think about yourself for just one second—”

the cheerleader’s jaw hung to the floor and she shook her head, quickly tapping the ‘mute’ button on your phone so she could speak without him hearing.

“don’t tell me he forgot your anniversary.”

you sobbed and hiccupped, nodding through your stream of tears.

“he— he did!—”

“—oh my god i'm about to do something really fucking bad to him that’s gonna get me thrown in prison—” she reached and gripped your shoulders. “not even flowers?! a— a kiss on the lips?! and he’s talking to you like that?!”

you only continued to cry and shake your head, your unoccupied hand covering your eyes as your shoulders shuddered.

“babe you have got to leave him i'm being so serious!” she spoke exasperatedly, giving you a squeeze. “he’s crazy! he's insane! he's— he’s broke i don’t know!—”

yuta was starting to wonder why he hadn’t seen you much throughout the day.

especially when you completely disappeared from the field at one point for an extended period of time, something you never did without at least letting him know first.

“take a thirty okkotsu!”

nodding along to his coach, he sent him a small raise of the hand before jogging off the field to the refreshment station, grabbing a water bottle from the fresh rack and squeezing some into his mouth.

where had you gone?

his eyes searched across the large field as he swallowed, a brow raised in confusion as he then turned his body around to try and spot you in the stands or— somewhere, his confusion only growing once he realized that you were literally just gone.

maybe you went home early? that was always a possibility.

he would’ve liked to say goodbye to you at least...

yuta tipped his head back and squeezed a bit more water, swallowing it down and tossing the bottle in the refill bucket, beginning to walk a few ways further off the field to fetch a clean hand towel from the utility station—

when he heard it.

uncontrollable gut-wrenching sobs that sounded a lot like they were coming from you, and a man yelling utter nonsense through a phone speaker that sounded a lot like reno.

he froze in place, heart dropping to his stomach and skin going sickly pale, his feet already hurriedly carrying him to the noise coming from the tunnel— stopping just outside of it around the corner.

“—i swear to god nothing i ever do is good enough for you y/n.”

“are you seriously making this about you?!” yuta heard you hiccup. “reno you forgot our anniversary! you fucked up! why can’t you just tell me you’re sorry?!”

“because i’m not gonna apologize over something so stupid!”

his jaw hardened.

“if it really mattered this much to you, you would’ve reminded me!”

“that's the thing! i shouldn’t have to!” you cried. “jesus what is the matter with you?!”

“what’s the matter with me? look at yourself first before you say some shit like that to me.”

holy hell it took every ounce of yuta’s body and soul not to charge in the tunnel and snatch your phone from you to yell at the piece of shit you called your man, his breathing instead growing ragged as he balled his fists up at his sides.

“reno how much of an idiot— hic!— can you be to not see— that this is your fault?!”

“you always do this!” reno yelled over the other line. “one mistake and suddenly i'm the worst fuckin’ person—”

you sobbed harder and that made yuta’s chest ache so freaking badly, lifting his hands to run them down his face— a blend of frustration and sadness and violence hitting him all at once the longer he listened to your idiot boyfriend disrespect you and hurt you like that.

“that’s— that’s not what i'm saying at all!”

“hang up the phone y/n.”

he recognized that voice to be his cheerleader friend, the tinsiest sense of comfort washing over his head that was just enough to make him not charge in there, relieved that you at least had someone with you to help you.

“you know what? if you’re gonna keep attacking me like this maybe we shouldn’t even talk tonight—”

“fine by me!”

and you hung up, squeezing your phone in your hand while simultaneously digging the heels of your palms into your eyes, your head pounding from how much you’d cried and screamed as you hunched over with your back against the wall, silent sobs wracking through you.

you were exhausted.

you'd spent three fucking years attempting to keep your relationship afloat, doing literally everything— the planning, the just because gestures, the asking to hang out, all of it and yet it seemed like it was never enough for reno, him still treating you like you weren’t even on his list of priorities to begin with.

were you ever?

“goddd—” the cheerleader whined, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you in for a tight embrace. “i hate seeing you like this... you’re too pretty to be doing this...”

you laughed a little through your tears, slumping your body against hers.

“i don’t— i don’t know what to do.” you whispered, sniffling.

“break up with him.” she gently emphasized. “please y/n... it’s a never ending cycle until you leave.”

she pulled back and gave you a sad smile, moving to wipe your cheeks with her fingers.

“trust me i've been in this kind of situation before and it fucking sucks.” she continued. “i get you. i get why you stay, but i promise you that you’re currently missing out on a great sweet guy who absolutely loves you and would do anything for you. don't let shitty stinky reno hold you back from that.”

didn't reno absolutely love you? wasn't... he the one who was a great sweet guy and did anything for you?

you didn’t even know anymore.

you silently nodded, sniffing and wiping the rest of your tears away, pulling back completely and sending her a small smile of your own.

“thank you my love.” you whispered. “for being here for me.”

“always!” she beamed. “you know that... and you also know that you need to do what's best for you, right?”

you nodded with a purse to your lips.

you did know it... so why were you still hesitating?

the cheerleader stood with you for another great while until you were seemingly okay, you eternally grateful to have such a kind friend like her through all of it— quickly giving her a suffocating hug goodbye once she was called back by her cheerleader girls and left you alone in the tunnel.

you didn’t know how much longer you stood there for until you decided to head on to the locker room, wanting to freshen up a little at yuta’s cubby and get a fast sip of water before going back out on the field, praying to god that your makeup wasn’t too fucked up.

and at the fleeting reminder of yuta you eased a little, an unknowing teeny quirk playing at your lips as you walked through the locker room doors, eager to find him out on the field and just be in his company—

“hi.”

you stopped in your tracks.

yuta was standing there by his cubby, holding the cutest miniature bouquet of lilies in his hands, his face flushed pink and a wobbly smile that made a breath hitch in your throat.

“not to be weird or anything! but... i— i overheard your conversation earlier in the tunnel...” he chewed on his bottom lip. “i’m sorry i didn’t mean to get in your business like that—”

he stopped himself and sighed, shaking his head as he looked directly at you.

“he shouldn’t forget y/n...”

a new wave of tears bubbled up and spilled, yuta’s shoulders dropping at the sight as he hurriedly made his way over to your crying self.

“no! sorry sorry i— please i—”

as soon as he got to you, you took the lovely bouquet from him and threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in there and yuta’s brain going into a short circuit.

“thank you.” you sobbed, voice to a whisper as you clutched onto him, yuta’s heart melting and his arms quickly coming to wrap around you, holding you just as tight if not more.

“please don’t cry...” he murmured through your hiccups, running a comforting hand up and down your shaking back. “i really hate it when you cry—”

“how did— how did you know i love lilies?”

he paused, blinking a little and readjusting his arms to bring you in closer.

“at the market...” he spoke soflty. “you were— you were looking at them a lot.”

something was different with yuta. or you. you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

you nuzzled your face into his neck.

“he’s not good for you y/n.”

your brows slightly pinched, trying to calm your sniffles so you could hear what he was saying.

yuta never gave you his opinion on your relationship with reno.

“he’s awful to you.” he mumbled. “he cancels your dates or forgets them, he’s mean to you, he disrespects you, he makes you feel like everything is your fault when it isn’t at all—”

he pulled back a tiny bit and unwrapped an arm to gently wipe your tear-stained cheeks, his eyes sinking into yours and so serious that you couldn’t help but just stare up at him.

“he doesn’t like cats.”

you weakly giggled.

“he takes you for granted. he hurts you.”

both of his hands came around then to cup your warm cheeks— your doey wet eyes and pouty lips making words spill from his mouth that shouldn’t.

“i hate him...” his own cheeks buzzed pink and he diverted his gaze. “m’sorry but... i really fucking hate him.”

“because he’s mean to me?” you sniffled.

neither of you realized, but the space between your lips and his was getting alarmingly close— your subconscious minds gravitating towards each other, itching to be where they’re supposed to be after so long of teetering around in careful avoidance.

yuta dazedly nodded, half lidded eyes tracing over your pretty face.

“because he has something i want.”

your breaths fanned against your cheeks, and yuta could just about feel your lips grazing his, him carefully cradling your face and slowly parting his mouth to nearly slot in between yours, your peachy perfume swirling all over his insides—

when a sudden bang! sprang you both apart, your chests pumping fast as you stared at one another with panicked expressions.

“dude i almost ate shit earlier on the field.”

“idiot when?!”

“when nanami threw me the ball! i don’t think that guy’s real man he’s too huge—”

you tucked your hair behind your ear and looked down at the bouquet, the brown paper wrapping crinkling underneath your grasp as you studied it, the boastful chatter of yuta’s teammates slowly dissipating the farther they trudged down the hall, eventually morphing into mere muffles until they left you in silence.

“thank you for the flowers yu...” you spoke up after a few seconds, your tone soft and shy as your gaze timidly locked with his. “you’re the sweetest...”

he stiffly nodded, willing and begging his heart and mind to shut up about the moment he almost had with you or else he was going to scream.

“s— sure!” he smiled weakly. “any time.”

was this offense from reno finally enough to get you to break up with him? to see that he was a piece of shit and didn’t deserve you in the slightest?

because at this point it was not about you and yuta and how he felt for you, it was literally just for you, for your wellbeing and happiness, for the chance for you to thrive and be happier— freed from the chains of a man who knew how to do nothing but beat a kind girl down and blame her for his mistakes.

blame you. a woman who was entirely worthwhile and deserving of so much.

“you should probably go back out—”

yuta held his hand out for you and you stopped.

nothing mattered in that moment. nothing at all but yuta and the hand that awaited you, nothing at all but the feeling of his slightly roughened calloused skin as you took it, allowing him to bring you in closer so you stood almost chest to chest, your heart starting to race again.

and you were confused.

“leave him.” he whispered, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “please. for you... you should have way more than this.”

should... you?

“you think so?” you murmured back, and he nodded, his thumb gently grazing over your knuckles.

“i know so.”

yuta hadn’t felt this much hope in a long time.

actually— he didn’t think he’d ever. but with the way you silently agreed with him— a cute teeny smile slipping across your face, looking at him like— like he’d seen you look at your lilies... completely caught him off guard. and he would’ve explored it further if it wasn't for nanami popping his head in and calling out about a meeting the higher ups wanted to have with him.

what was supposed to be possibly the greatest night of yuta’s life, turned into the worst.

and not just with the higher ups... but with you.

PART TWO

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@softbun0 @the-lazyyy-artist @cheeyah @ag-zio @luvvmae @blue-musingss @as1yasss @oporotheca @aqkermxan @cookey-lock @mayacheiko @ackermanrage @pocoom @nervousshinnie @beekaboi @vickylovesochako @iloveoldermenn @uhnosav @jvpit3rr @monchxriella @slr3v @kissesazula @hqnge @featheryvee @allurearia @haokanie @wwwbriworld @aksqui @dee-writes-anime @skittleluverr @qwicksilver @childesblanket @almostdelightfuldragon @spidergirlnr1 @naammiii @evelynxxo @hiithess @sophiejiro @l1v1ngzomb1e @princesstiti14 @heartcandyslxt @k0z3me

[lokissweater]

oh how i NEEEDDDD this yearnful love sick mf jesus CHRIST !!!! 🫦🫦

[theorphicangel]

𝗖𝗿𝘂𝘀𝗵 | 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

pair: sukuna x (fem!) reader

synopsis: you always stayed away from the boy in your english class who was always misbehaving and borderline breaking the law. known for his suspensions and his attitude, everyone keeps ten thousand feet away. despite being an outcast he's learned to enjoy his own company but with your curious eye you've realised there's more to him than just the rumours about him and his family.

in your last few weeks of high school he swears that you'll never see him again but four years later you find out that isn't the case.

a lot can happen in four years and now that time has come between you, you can finally figure out who he really is.

tags: childhood friends to lovers, except they were not really friends, strangers to lovers, yearning, one sided pining, soft sukuna despite how rough he seems, fluff, yes based on the ethel cain song, tw: mentions of drugs, mentions of murder, death penalty, suggested gun violence but nothing happens, more tags will be added when i can think...

part one | part two

word count: 4.2k

author's note: i've never really written anything like this before, i hope you like it... i can't stop listening to this song. a lot of the plot is based on my interpretation of the song so pls don't take it literal it is fiction...i'm also really tired rn so i've only looked over this once...pls forgive me...

You watched as they emptied out his locker.

Murmurs and whispers were heard all around you. Rumours being created and dissected right in front of your own eyes. Nothing this interesting ever happened in this school so it wasn't surprising that this was spreading like wildfire. The seniors were watching intensely, the freshmen were standing on their tippy toes trying to get a glance at what was happening. Groups of sophomores attempt to edge closer to the tight circle that surrounded the infamous student just so they can tell their friends that they were near him.

In your years leading up to your current senior year you've quickly learned that there is little one can do to put these conversations to a complete rest. Once a rumour like this starts it's rare that it ever stops. And the timing of this search being at lunch only helps to spread the fire.

A crowd of students create a suffocating circle around him. The security and principal create an even tighter circle around him.

His backpack was turned inside out completely, the unnatural melody of objects clattering to the laminated floor. A few pencils and pens, an eraser, notebooks submitted to graffiti — evident of his boredom in class and the torn cover of a novel that he was supposed to be reading for the english class that you both share together. Scraps of old receipts and tissues float to the laminated ground.

No gun in sight yet.

His locker door has been forced open, a clear refusal of his to give them the original key. And the spare from the office suddenly going missing only adds to their suspicion. The crane bar lies on the floor, its purpose already complete. It took less than a minute, only gathering more eyes to watch this spectacle. As much as the teachers try and move along the students, stating that there is nothing for them to see, the students continue to linger like an ominous shadow, eyes peering with both fear and wonder.

In your mind you can already see the headlines for the upcoming school paper, no— even in the local town news you can see it. Titled in bold, the question on the tips of everyone's tongues, threatening to spill across their lips: Was the son of a killer really holding guns in his locker? You can imagine now that when these kids go back home fro the day this will be the first piece of news told to their parents and it'll be the news of the town for the next coming weeks.

People will say that they knew it all along. That blood is thicker than water will ever be.

Like father like son.

Hands search his locker without any care, pulling all the contents out, mouths moving to tell people to step back. Endless scraps of paper and old notebooks flop to the ground in a heap. A gym bag and a pair of sneakers come tumbling out without any thought. An old leather jacket falls out and other dishevelled notes join the items on the floor.

The gaping black hole of Sukuna Ryomen's locker meets the irate gaze of the principle.

"See." He mumbles. "I told you idiots I didn't have a fucking gun."

Standing with his arms crossed, his composed act is never dropped. He looks bored. Not even breaking a sweat as they search every dark corner of his locker. The principal lets out a sigh, evidently disappointed that he couldn't find anything to incriminate the boy who has given him a headache over the past academic year.

For months everyone knows that the principal has been subjected to complaints by teachers who have taught the infamous Sukuna Ryomen. There was even the incident leading to a fellow group of teachers who refused to teach him in their class altogether.

Why hasn't he been expelled yet?

Only God knows.

Each and every meeting with his mother only entails any promise that he will be well behaved and keep his head down. But he never does. The only thing holding him back from expulsion is the consideration that this is his final year. Just a few more weeks and he'll be out of the system. He's not heading for college. That's for sure. But everybody hopes that he lives up to his word of leaving this town as soon as possible.

You try to strain your hearing to hear the words of the principal before he walks away. You can't hear the words exactly but reading the lips 'welfare check' you predict that he's suspended for the rest of the day.

The students scatter, the climax is now over. Some are evidently dishearten that their school won't make it on the local news, others are texting their parents that it was a false alarm whilst a small majority of students swear that they saw a glimpse of a firearm.

"I swear I saw it! I'm not kidding."

"Me too!"

You linger a little longer than you should, aware that you'll be late to your next class but you choose to stay. Just a little longer. Watching, Sukuna kneels on the laminated floor.

He doesn't make eye contact with students that are brave enough to walk past him. They don't say anything but their fleeting glances say enough. His hands shove everything back inside his backpack and locker without any care. You study his face tattoos, black markings that imitate his father's own tattoos. It was a huge scandal when he came to school with those. An investigation discovered that he forged parental approval before heading to a tattoo artist that wasn't even licensed.

The topic of his father was a whole other discussion. He's been scheduled for death row for the past decade for multiple killings carried out in the early 90s, a local tragedy in the neighbouring state. It was the whole reason the family moved so that it was easier for visitations. His date isn't upcoming for another nine years.

It's hard to look at Sukuna's twin brother and think that the two have any relation. Sukuna changed his last name to his father's whilst Jin still takes his mother's surname of Itadori. Appearance wise, they look similar. Identical pink hair and a sharp jaw but there are still some outstanding qualities between them.

Sukuna's eyes glare at everyone who dares look at him and it's obvious that the tattoos don't help his reputation. He's a direct foil to his brother, Jin Itadori who is the known golden child and top student of the school. You've heard that he's capable of aiming towards Harvard, Columbia and Stanford, teachers betting on which one will give him an offer first.

You can see it already: Harvard acceptance offer given to the second generation American-Japanese Student from the small town of — yeah, this headline is worthy enough for the school to brag for the next decade of students.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Sukuna, dressed in all black, shuts his locker with a slam before chucking his hoodie over his head.

You don't stop watching until he turns the corner.

/

Your drama club ended a little later than usual.

The squeak of your sneakers on the laminated floors of the hallway accompany you as you make your way outside. Being at school whilst it's empty and deserted as always managed to give you the creeps. The stench of bleach and cleaning products almost makes you think you're at a pool, the cleaners probably working overtime to get rid of the graffiti stains in the toilets.

It's a little late but there is still light outside, a little glimpse of the transition into Spring. At least that's one of the more positive things that you can look forward to after today's events. Pushing the heavy entrance doors open, it doesn't take you long to notice a figure sitting on the curb at the front of the school. Your other drama friends must have already been picked up by their parents leaving one figure waiting.

Approaching, you wonder who the hooded figure could be but it's not until they hear you coming closer that they turn around. All it takes is a glimpse of that pink hair and a black tattoo on his face for you to realise who you've bumped into.

You've never spoken to Sukuna directly. The two of you share the same English class and he sits in the row behind you but you have never made any attempt to have a conversation with him. You can only recall the one time you passed him a book and he said 'thank you' without even making eye contact.

You're…curious about him. There's always been something about him which keeps you intrigued and on the contrary to everybody else it's not about his family history. Your eyes can't help but fall upon him. You study his facial features, the curve of his nose and the plumpness of his lips. Despite his exterior roughness there's something pretty about him.

But you don't know what.

"Oh sorry." you say immediately when he turns around to look up at you. "I didn't know it was…" your sentence remains unfinished. There's a breeze in the air and the rustle of leaves fills up the silence. It's a little awkward but you're not panicking coming face to face with him. You thought that he would have stormed off by now or tell you to leave him alone but he does neither. The silence is almost inviting and instead of heading home there's something inside you which makes you sit next to him.

Sukuna doesn't move or shuffle away from you, nor does he question why you're sitting next to him. Weirdly enough, he lets you sit next to him. Sukuna has seen you around before, mostly in his English class, but he's never been face to face with you before. He knows you're not a threat and somehow he knows you're not the type to pester him about what happened today. You're pretty quiet and you keep yourself to yourself — unlike everyone else in this school you don't engage with the gossip and rumours and that's something Sukuna has noticed about you.

"Have you been sitting here this whole time? I thought you got suspended."

"I had to come back for something."

"Right."

The silence intervenes between you guys again but it's less awkward than before. You don't know what it is that makes you stay in this position, that makes you stay and continue this conversation with someone you'd never thought you'd ever speak to.

Maybe it's the fact that after this final year you'll never see Sukuna again. You'll be going your separate ways in a few months and probably never see each other again.

After a few minutes of silence Sukuna speaks up again, this time to ask you a question. "Have you ever tried dope?"

"Dope?" you question.

"The drug?"

You'd only ever heard about dope when you'd secretly stay up and overhear your mom playing her favourite cop and crime show late at night. Or even during that health lesson when the local police came in to do their annual talk about staying away from drugs.

Sukuna turns away slightly and mutters something under his breath. Just from this action it makes you think that you've done something wrong, like you've picked the wrong answer. You wonder what he would have said if you had said yes to him. Regret churns deep in your lower abdomen, cursing yourself.

You don't say anything. Not for a while. The gravel crunches loudly underneath your feet as you shuffle awkwardly. The next question comes from you. Your tone isn't interrogative just curious, and it's clear that there isn't an ounce of judgement coming from you. "What made them think that you had a gun?"

Sukuna shrugs again and you notice that he has a pretty good habit of shrugging all the damn time. "Rumours. You know all that shit though. I'm not stupid enough to shoot up a whole fucking school."

You hum. You know that Sukuna slacks off school from time to time and he doesn't get the best grades in the class but you know that he's smarter than he'll ever let on. Maybe academics isn't his best fit but you know that he's somewhat intelligent enough to trick the school and the cops into getting tattoos. He says all the right things in the end, after all he's done. You've seen how he throws teachers all on edge but then pulls back — it's emotional manipulation but he's so damn good at it.

As soon as you get the idea to leave Sukuna prompts another question. And from his tone you can tell the conversation has dipped into something serious.

"If I show you something do you promise not to tell?"

If the question about the drugs threw you off, you're even more confused by this question. There's a shiver that runs up your spine at the thought of having to be sworn to secrecy.

Sukuna doesn't wait for your reply or for your confirmation of your secrecy before showing you, again there's something that tells him that you're trustworthy. There's something about you which convinces him that you'll never tell anyone even if he gave you permission to go out and tell people.

Sukuna pulls his hand out slightly from his pocket, just enough to show you a glimpse of a handgun. Your brows are raised but your mouth runs dry. You can feel your heart thud in your ears at the sudden realisation.

"Where did you keep it?"

"I hid it somewhere else when I heard that the principal was looking for me. A hole behind the boys toilets."

"Holy shit." you say and you move your gaze away from Sukuna to the road ahead that leads out from the school's car park. You wonder what today's events would have looked like if they did find the gun on him. The school would have been put into lock down and armed police would have arrived, your mother would probably would have left work early to come and get you…

and what would have happened to Sukuna?

well, this would damage his entire record and prove that what everyone in town has been saying about him was right. He'd be local — no, national news at least.

"I'm not even gonna ask how you got that without a license." you mutter, staring down at your shoes.

"Good." he says, bringing his hand back into his pocket for concealment. "I wasn't gonna do anything with it. I just wanted to carry it."

You don't respond back to him. You don't want to talk about it anymore, there's something heavy in the air and it makes you feel a little nauseous, your stomach's been churning too much around him and you don't like it.

You let a beat pass by before changing the subject. "What are your plans for after high school?"

"What are your plans?" he throws back at you.

This time you're the one shrugging. "You know, I have a basic college plan. Get away from here for a bit."

"Holy shit." Sukuna says in a deadpan tone. He pulls out his other hand from a pocket, flicking the cap of a lighter. "Got any offers yet?"

"Not yet. What about you?"

"I'm getting out of here as soon as possible."

"How soon?"

"Once I get enough money to afford some place far, far away from this shithole."

"So by the time I come back from college you'll be gone?"

Sukuna knows, "You can count on it…or better yet I'll make you a special promise."

You sit up a little taller, the heaviness of the previous conversation now long gone. "What's the promise?"

"If you come back here once you've graduated and find me still around this hell of a place then I guess you can give me a black eye and two kisses."

"A black eye and two kisses?" You tilt your head to the side. "I've never heard of that, you know, normal people usually do a pinky promise and then call it a day."

Sukuna looks down at the lighter for a moment before he speaks again, his face turning pensive. "It's just something my dad used to say to my mom if he ever broke a promise." He flicks the lighter, a small flame spurting out. "But I guess he broke that by landing in prison."

"Did she give him the black eye?"

"Worse." Sukuna mutters, staring at the ground. "She cried. For days."

The words leave his mouth in a soft tone, almost like a whisper. You've never heard him speak like this before. You have to admit that you don't know the ins and outs of his family life but you know it must be overwhelming for him to grasp.

Again, you're curious about him. You're curious about him because you see past his 'bad' facade that he puts on at school for the teachers and for the rest of the students. You see past his acting out, rudeness and impulsivity. You've noticed that the english class you share with him is the only class where he actually sits down and pays attention. Sure, he's not writing anything down but you've seen him get through an entire book in just an hour.

Once you've said your goodbyes and you're on the way home, you can't help but think over your entire interaction with Sukuna. You reflect on all the things you've said and all the things he's said to you, trying to figure out what to make of what he's trusted to tell you. You wonder why he's trusted you with the secret of the gun or why he made that stupid promise.

Reflecting on everything on your walk home, you've come to another realisation.

You think you like him.

Or worse…

you have a crush on him.

/

After the gun fiasco you saw never Sukuna again at school and the rumours were spreading.

They jumped from him finally landing in Juvie to him being sent out of the country or that he ended up in hospital. Thankfully, your english teacher put these rumours to rest and brought everyone back into reality. Sukuna was just sent to stay with his grandfather in another town for the rest of the school year.

You would be lying if you said that you weren't a little disappointed that Sukuna wouldn't be coming back. Each and every time you came to class you immediately looked towards the empty desk hoping that he would somehow appear for the final time.

But he never did.

He didn't even show up for the high school graduation but you guessed that he probably wasn't allowed to. You think back to the promise you had made with him, 'a black eye and two kisses.'

You wonder what his lips would feel like on your own. Often before you drifted off to sleep you would hyper fixate on how you would kiss him or maybe even how he would kiss you. Would he be gentle? Or would he be a little rough? Would his lips be soft or suffocating?

You thought about this more than you should ever admit but you'd cross your heart and hope to die before you told another living soul that you fell asleep thinking about kissing Sukuna Ryomen.

You can only hope that somehow he'll still be around in four years. Just so you can put your mind at ease.

/

College was different.

So much had happened in the span of four years.

Heartbreak, friendships, friendship break ups, rejections, internships, 9am lectures, never ending assignments, partying, hangovers, travelling, discovery, arguments, make ups, drunk makeouts and so much more that could never even be put into words.

You never really thought about what kind of world was out there beyond your hometown and you're more than grateful that you had the opportunity to leave and grow. Each and every time that you returned to your hometown for the holidays you always had the idea that you had outgrown everything. And it was true, you've grown more confident in your skills and thinking, your dreams have gotten bigger and you know what you want out of life.

The only thing stopping you from continuing this independence was money.

It's only natural that you have to settle down back with your parents and save some money. It doesn't feel right to continue your academic journey nor does it feel right to jump straight into corporate life. If you were being honest with yourself that kind of life scared you. You weren't ready to jump into adult life so permanently.

So you're returning back home, just for a year or two, until you get your money together and land a graduate job that feels right.

You're not really fixated on the characters that remain from your high school. Sure you see a person from the year above working at the local grocery store or the couple you used to see making out in hallways before your afternoon math class finally settled down and somehow rent a house together. Most people you know have remained in their university cities or decided to travel the world or at least were successful in their attempt to never come back here again.

As you're walking down the road with your suitcase rattling on the cobble behind you, you don't really see anyone sticking out.

Until a figure catches your eye.

And that figure just so happens to have pink hair and unique tattoos drawn all over themselves. If it wasn't for those features, you'd think you would have walked straight past him.

"Sukuna?" you say before you even realise the words have left your mouth.

The tall figure looms over you and stops in his tracks. It's clear he was deep in his thoughts, barely paying attention as he walked by.

He's gotten…bigger. In a bulking way as if since the last time you saw him he's been doing nothing but going to the gym everyday. He's no longer the scrawny kid you remember from high school but he moves with a different type of authority and confidence. He looks like he works with his hands and smells like Marlboro reds.

He frowns at you as if trying to place where in his life that you fit. A lot of people don't reach out to him in this town unless absolutely necessary.

There's a sex appeal about him that catches your attention. All of a sudden that little stupid crush you had near the end of high school hits you like a slap to the face. You can feel your face burn up as if someone actually did hit you.

You watch his eyes scan your face for any familiarity, you think he won't remember you until a few seconds pass and you watch his eyebrows release the tension they've been holding in and notice his jaw drop slightly. The recognition hits him, you're the classmate that spoke to him before he left high school for good. He doesn't remember much of the conversation. A lot has happened since then.

For a minute you think that you'll have to introduce yourself again, jog his memory of being the quiet girl from his english class. Your mouth opens to do so but the sound of your name falls from his lips before you even get the chance to.

"You're back." His voice is rough and coarse like he doesn't get the chance to use it much.

A shiver travels across your body in hearing him for the first time. "Yeah." you say and you don't realise how nervous you sound until you croak that word out. You take a moment to cough and gain back your confidence before speaking to him again. "And you…stayed."

Sukuna nods. "I did."

All of a sudden it hits you like whiplash. The last remnants of your conversation. You and him made a kind of bet. Or was it a promise?

But it wasn't just any kind of promise…it was a special one that stuck with you. That left you daydreaming about him for longer than you should've been, even when he was long gone. Your eyes fall to focus on his lips, more plumper than you imagined before.

"Is there something on my face?" He frowns again, picking up at your stare.

"Oh no, I was just—" you trail off. It's stupid, he would never have remembered the promise you guys made as kids. "Never mind."

Sukuna pulls a confused face but he prompts you with another question. "Are you staying for long?"

"Yeah, I'm just moving back home after college. I wanted to stay with my parents for a bit before I — y'know, fly the nest for real."

Sukuna hums, not really having anything more to add. The awkwardness picks up a little. He takes it as his sign to leave you alone, unbeknownst to him that you're dying to speak to him for a little longer. "See you around yeah?"

"Yeah…" is all you can say as he begins his pace. "I will."

You begin to move too, continuing your journey. Sukuna's long gone round the corner but you can't help yourself to keep turning back to see if he's still there.

thank you so much for reading! reblogs and comments are much appreciated!!

[ivyrotica]

when doms coo out a soft ‘there you arreee’ the moment their sub finally gives in and starts whimpering, gasping, making the prettiest noises while being absolutely ruined >>>

[keistriction]

(18+) hiromi higuruma has a thing for seeing you cry

he tries to pretend he doesn't. he knows it’s fucked up. 

after a day of lost cases, spilled coffee, and interns who couldn’t follow basic instructions to save their life, he craves control more than he could ever admit. 

when he walks into the apartment, you were already waiting – draped in his t-shirt, giggly, needy, and looking up at him from where you were sprawled on the couch. 

he tells himself he’ll be gentle.

but when his thumbs dig into your lower tummy, right where he's buried inside you – you can’t help but shed a tear. his name comes out in some desperate wail as you cream for him. 

and there it is. 

a small, wrecked sound. 

for a minute, he panics. slows down to an unbearable motion.  until that sound turns into a full whimper. 

“no– don’t stop!” you beg, still teary. your nails dig into his forearms. 

“i’m okay, i promise.” 

the grip on your waist tightens, jaw flexing. “d-don’t lie to me,” he murmurs, clearing his throat. “i need you to tell me.”

“please...” you nod profusely, lip caught in your teeth.

“i want this.”

his eyes search yours, mindlessly pressing against your womb. your lower body jolts as you attempt to avoid the warm, tingly feeling building in your core. 

“romi..” you whimper, back arching against the cool tile of the kitchen counter. 

his gaze flicks to your swollen clit, eyes glazed over as he takes in just how puffy your cunt looks with the lace of your panties pushed to the sides. and he can’t help but thrust deeper into you. 

“a-ah! wait– wait, feels s’good,” you babble, tears welling in your eyes. his lips twitch slightly, a breathy chuckle leaving him as you sob. 

“too much, princess?” he finishes calmly. you nod frantically as your walls flutter around him. his thumb swipes under your eye, catching the tear before it falls against your cheek. 

she said it feels good.

another tear slips down.

i shouldn’t like this.

this is inappropriate. 

your voice cracks around his name again. 

control yourself. 

he breathes slowly. 

and then you make the mistake of bringing his thumb to your lips, and sucking softly. 

his breath catches in his throat, lips parting slightly. your lips close around his thumb – warm and deliberate – as you swirl your tongue around the tip. 

don’t. 

your tongue brushes again, the vibration of a whine taunting him. 

don’t react. 

and with a pop, he pulls his hand back from your mouth. 

not roughly. 

just enough. 

his thumb drags along your bottom lip before he presses it there, smearing the wetness back against you. “you’re testing me,” he murmurs, hand roaming lower before pressing his palm to your throat. 

“don’t...” he rasps, slamming into you. filthy wet sounds fill the room as his thrusts deepen. your vision blurs when he readjusts, bullying your cervix with the tip. you can’t help but clamp down around him – so hard he groans. 

“fuck, romi… inside p-please..” you gasp, grinding against his hips. 

and for a moment, he freezes – trying to comprehend your demand. his breath stalls, debating whether or not you were serious. 

he could stop. 

he gets one look of your face – glistening from spit and drool – and doesn’t.

“fuck–,” he hisses, eyes glued to the way he twitches inside you. warmth spreads inside you, cream coating the base of his cock as he pulls out slowly. your hole puckers at the unbearable emptiness. 

your vision takes a second to clear. 

he doesn’t move immediately. 

his chest rises slowly. once.  twice. 

the dazed look in your eyes makes his chest tighten.

“hey.”

your eyes focus again, darting between the wetness gathered under you and him. 

“look at me,”

he exhales slowly. 

“i haven’t decided we’re finished.”

🏷️: @chososbbygrl : @katemira : @chaoticcrashofkk : @ist4rr : @gyusheadphones

[pillsatoru]

higuruma noticed the way you kept looking at his nose.

it's been that way since you first met at the law firm. any time you talked, you'd zone out staring at his nose. it was just so.. perfect.

it was big.

and crooked.

and god it looked extra good when he wore his glasses.

when the two of you began dating, the staring problem got worse.

"darling, are you listening to me?" your eyes widened when his voice interrupted your highly erotic thoughts.

"uh, yeah. sorry."

it was blatantly obvious.

"why don't you just sit on it, love?" higuruma finally said, taking off his reading glasses. he placed them on the nightstand next to his book. you walked to his side, already in your nightgown, in which he was eyeing. fuck, did he love those things on you.

"on what, hiro?"

his hand pulled you in closer, making you straddle his lap. he sighed softly, taking you all in. you weren't wearing a bra, nipples evident under your attire. and even through his clothing, he could feel the material of your silk panties.

"y'know, my nose? know you'd like that." he murmured quietly.

you froze.

"i have no idea what you're talking about." you stuttered. you didn't need a mirror to know you were flushed. higuruma chuckled, letting his hands go up and down your torso, groping roughly.

"oh c'mon.. think I don't notice the way you stare at it?" he asks you with a low, teasing voice. "ride it baby."

-

higuruma took a long sniff of your cunt when you hovered over his face, darting his tongue out to taste you. your words died on your mouth when he placed small pecks on your clit.

"smells good."

he had you fully sat down, thighs on either side of his face. a sharp groan escaped him, vibrating throughout you. his nose poked at your clit every time you rolled your hips.

"fuck." his tongue licked long stripes between your folds.

your breathing grew heavier, quickening your pace. "hiromi.." you held onto the headboard while your free hand gripped his hair, tugging at the black locks.

his fingernails dug into your thighs, helping you grind on him. "feels good?"

"yes!" you clenched around his tongue, already feeling your orgasm building up. he inserted two fingers into your velvety walls, curling them at an angle to scrape at your g-spot.

"told you you'd like this..."

your boyfriend's face was covered in your slick. not like he minded. he continued lapping at your juices, nudging his nose harder.

"hiro!" you let out a broken sob, body quivering when you came.

higuruma slurped happily. the wet sounds almost being torture for you. when he gently pushed you off, he shoved his tongue down your throat forcing you to taste yourself.

"gotta do this more often.. haven't made you cum this hard before."

yeah, definitely doing this again.

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