Warnings: Nightmares, panic attack, crying, emotional distress, possessive behavior, jealousy, I think that’s it.
Taglist: @voucearse, @seodami, @ateez-atiny380, @tunafishyfishylike, @h0neylemon, @chikknsaltkiki, @cherry012399, @luvkiyomi, @reiofsuns2001, @99zspider, let me know through an ask, a message, or a comment if you want to be added to the taglist!
Chapter 7 is here; we’re free of the stand-in boyfriend, aka Euijoo. So what will happen now? How will the dinner with the dance team go? Will it be pure chaos? Will someone lose their hair from dying it? Stay tuned to find out.
Thank you all for your patience with getting this chapter out. I had to lock in for my last Uni essay for the semester, but now I’m officially on summer break, and I’m going to try and write as much as I can when I have the time!
Masterlist Chapter 6 Chapter 8 (wip)
The next day, Niki had gone to the gym for a few hours, leaving (Y/n) alone in the apartment to prepare for the rest of the dance team arriving later. Or more accurately, (Y/n) had kicked him out so she could clean in peace. Because somehow, in less than twenty minutes of “helping,” Niki had nearly broken the vacuum cleaner after accidentally sucking up part of a curtain string, then immediately afterward managed to kick over an entire bucket of cleaning water across the kitchen floor. (Y/n) had stared at the spreading puddle in complete silence while Niki stood there holding the mop like he hadn’t just committed a crime.
“I was trying to help,” he defended. “You are banned from helping.” “That feels dramatic.” “You are drowning the apartment.” “It was one bucket!” Eventually, she shoved his gym bag into his arms and physically pushed him toward the front door. “Go to the gym,” she ordered. “Or literally anywhere else.” Niki laughed while slipping his shoes on. “Yes, ma’am.” “And don’t come back for at least three hours.” “Wow.” “Stupid rich kid,” she muttered while closing the door in his face. So Niki obediently disappeared to the gym while (Y/n) cleaned the apartment alone.
Three hours later, when he finally returned home, the apartment looked spotless. And (Y/n) looked half dead. She sat curled up on the couch beneath a blanket, staring blankly at the TV despite the fact that nothing was even playing. Niki immediately noticed the faint sourness in her scent. She hadn’t rested properly at all. No snacks. No water breaks. Probably no sitting down either. Niki sighed quietly to himself before reaching into his gym bag. Without warning, he tossed something toward her. (Y/n) blinked as a protein bar landed beside her on the couch. “I’m back,” Niki announced casually while pulling off his hoodie. “Mmm,” she answered weakly. Still, she opened the bar almost immediately and took a bite. Niki smiled slightly to himself, seeing that. At least she listened sometimes.
(Y/n) stayed curled up beneath the blanket while eating slowly, clearly too tired to even complain about him throwing food at her. Honestly, she looked kind of cute like this. Completely exhausted from cleaning while still stubbornly pretending she was fine. Niki chuckled softly under his breath before heading toward his room. “I’m showering before everyone gets here,” he called out. “Okay.” “And don’t start cleaning something else while I’m gone.” (Y/n) immediately looked offended. “I wasn’t going to.” Niki raised an eyebrow knowingly. She avoided eye contact. “Exactly,” he said before disappearing down the hallway to shower.
After eating the bar, (Y/n) finally dragged herself off the couch and headed toward her room to shower. The warm water helped a little, mostly with the exhaustion in her muscles from cleaning all day. By the time she stepped back out of the bathroom, dressed in comfortable clothes, her hair was still damp. Normally, she would dry it properly, but her heat protection spray had run out the other day, so she didn’t want to put extra heat on it and risk damaging it. So instead, she wrapped a towel loosely around her head and let it soak up the remaining water. As she walked out into the apartment again, she headed straight toward the kitchen.
Even after eating the protein bar earlier, she still felt slightly faint from overworking herself all day. Juice sounded good. Niki stood in the kitchen, too. Fresh out of the shower himself, he wore a pair of dark grey sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. The outfit should’ve looked completely normal. Unfortunately for (Y/n), Niki somehow managed to make even the simplest clothes look unfairly good. His damp hair fell slightly into his eyes while he arranged chips and snacks into bowls on the counter like they were hosting an actual fancy event instead of chaotic university students.
(Y/n) opened the fridge and reached for the juice bottle. Niki glanced toward her. Then immediately burst into a grin. “I love what you’ve done with your hair today.” (Y/n) slowly turned to glare at him over her shoulder, towel still wrapped around her head. “Idiot,” she muttered. Niki ignored the insult completely. Honestly, he barely even heard it anymore. Instead, he set the bowl he was holding down and casually walked over toward her while she reached into the cabinet for a glass.
With her back turned toward him now, Niki leaned down slightly. Then rested his forehead lightly against her shoulder. (Y/n) barely reacted at first, already used to how physically affectionate he could be sometimes. “You’re clingy today,” she mumbled while pouring juice. Niki only hummed softly in response. What she didn’t notice was the way he subtly rubbed his scent against her shoulder and neck area while leaning against her. To a human, it was completely unnoticeable. But to vampires and werewolves? The scent would be obvious immediately. Possessive. Protective. A quiet claim. Not ownership exactly. Niki would never truly force that onto her. But still… A silent message lingered beneath the action. Mine. Or at least… Hopefully someday.
After getting some juice, (Y/n) headed back to her room to put the towel away properly. Her hair would air-dry enough eventually, hopefully. When she walked back out into the kitchen again, she immediately stopped at the sight before her. Niki stood completely frozen in front of a pineapple. A knife in one hand. The pineapple in the other. And an expression on his face like he was trying to solve advanced mathematics instead of cutting fruit. (Y/n) stared at him for a few seconds. Then sighed deeply. “Move.” Niki looked over at her. “I was figuring it out.” “You were losing a fight against a pineapple.” “That thing has armor.”
(Y/n) walked over and took the knife directly from his hand. Niki obediently stepped aside while watching her. Within seconds, she had the pineapple peeled and cut into neat, perfect pieces. Niki looked genuinely impressed. “How do you know how to do that?” (Y/n) didn’t even look at him. “Stupid rich kid,” she muttered again. Niki frowned immediately. “Not everything has to do with me being a rich kid, you know.” (Y/n) turned toward him while still holding the knife, pointing it vaguely in his direction in accusation. “Everything you seem incapable of doing is typical things rich kids wouldn’t know.” Niki blinked. “So yes,” she concluded calmly, “it’s because you’re a rich kid.” Niki slowly raised both hands in surrender. “Fine,” he sighed dramatically. “You win.” “I know.” “You’re enjoying this too much.”
(Y/n) ignored him while turning back toward the cutting board again. “Bring me the other fruit too,” she ordered. “We need to cut everything before the others arrive.” Niki nodded obediently before going to grab the watermelon along with several other fruits from the fridge. Honestly, the sight was kind of ridiculous. Niki, one of the strongest vampires around, carried fruit over like an assistant while (Y/n) handled all the actual preparation. Still, he stayed beside her the entire time. All he really did was hand her bowls and plates afterward, before moving them away once she finished filling them.
But honestly? That was probably safer for everyone involved. At one point, Niki reached for the knife again. (Y/n) slapped his hand away immediately. “Absolutely not.” “You’re so mean to me.” “You almost lost to a pineapple five minutes ago.” “Pineapples are aggressive.” (Y/n) laughed softly under her breath while continuing to cut watermelon into cubes. Eventually, though, everything was finally ready. The fruit had been cut neatly into bowls. Chips and snacks were spread out across the kitchen island and coffee table. Drinks filled the fridge. Ice sat ready in the freezer. The apartment smelled clean and warm and weirdly domestic.
For a moment, both of them stood quietly in the kitchen, looking around at everything they had prepared together. “Well,” Niki said finally. “Looks like we’re officially hosting a party.” (Y/n) smiled slightly. “Hopefully the apartment survives it.” “That reminds me,” Niki suddenly said. Before (Y/n) could ask what he meant, he walked toward his gaming room. She watched him curiously as he stepped inside, reaching upward toward one of the higher shelves. After grabbing whatever he wanted, he immediately stepped back out again, shut the door, and locked it.
The very obvious locking sound made (Y/n) laugh. “Afraid they’re gonna ruin your precious computer?” Niki sighed dramatically while slipping the key into his pocket. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” That immediately caught her attention. “They’ve ruined your stuff before?” “Jake spilled an energy drink on my keyboard once, Jungwon hosted a party when he lived here and ruined stuff.” (Y/n) gasped. “And Yuma somehow broke a headset by sitting on it.” “That sounds like Yuma.” Niki pointed accusingly toward her. “Exactly. So honestly, locking the door probably won’t even stop them.” (Y/n) laughed again. “I’m sure they’ll behave.” Niki looked deeply unconvinced.
As she suddenly walked closer toward him, still smiling slightly, Niki instinctively held his breath. She stopped very close. Too close. His brain immediately short-circuited. Niki tried to stay relaxed on the outside. Cool. Unbothered. Meanwhile, internally, he was panicking. Why was she standing so close? Why did she smell so good? Why was she looking at him like that? Then suddenly (Y/n) lifted her hand toward his face. Niki’s entire body froze. Her fingers brushed gently beneath his eye.
A quiet gasp escaped him before he could stop it. (Y/n) giggled softly. “Cute,” she whispered. Niki thought his soul had almost left his body. Then she pulled her hand back slightly, revealing a tiny eyelash resting against her thumb. “Sorry,” she said casually. “You had an eyelash there.” Niki blinked at her silently. Then she held her hand out toward him. “Here. Blow on it and make a wish.” He tilted his head slightly. “Why?” (Y/n) shrugged. “It might not actually be true, but it’s kind of like wishing on a falling star.” She smiled softly. “People believe if you blow away an eyelash and make a wish, it’ll come true.” Niki stared at her for a second longer before smiling faintly. “Alright then.”
He leaned slightly closer toward her hand. Then gently blew the eyelash away while silently making his wish. I wish you’d fall for me faster. The second he finished, the apartment doorbell rang loudly. Niki’s face immediately dropped. (Y/n) laughed softly before turning toward the front door. “I’ll get it.” Meanwhile, Niki stood there frowning like the universe had personally betrayed him. Then sulked after her anyway.
When (Y/n) opened the door, she found Fuma, Nicholas, Jake, Jungwon, Sunoo, and Taki standing outside. The second the door opened, chaos immediately followed. “Hi!” Sunoo smiled brightly. “Oh my god it smells so good in here,” Jake said while already trying to look past her into the apartment. Taki held up both hands dramatically. “I came emotionally prepared to watch someone lose their hair tonight.” “That sounds concerning,” Jungwon muttered. (Y/n) laughed softly and stepped aside to let them in. “Come in before the neighbors think we’re hosting a cult.” “That depends,” Nicholas said while walking inside. “Are we?”
As the group entered the apartment, several of them subtly exchanged glances almost immediately. Because with supernatural senses, the scent Niki had rubbed onto (Y/n) earlier was painfully obvious. Not subtle at all. Especially to wolves and vampires. Fuma’s eyebrow twitched slightly upward. Sunoo bit back a smile instantly. Meanwhile Jake looked one second away from laughing out loud. None of them said anything though. Mostly because they wanted to survive the evening. Fuma, as the oldest among the group currently there, stepped forward first and held out a small bag toward (Y/n).
She blinked before taking it. Inside were extra snacks and drinks. (Y/n) smiled warmly. “You didn’t have to bring anything.” Fuma shrugged casually. “It’s bad manners to show up empty-handed when someone’s hosting.” (Y/n) looked genuinely touched. “Thank you.” Meanwhile behind them, Taki had already spotted the bowls of snacks on the kitchen island. “Oh this place is dangerous,” he announced dramatically. Jake immediately abandoned his shoes near the door and followed after him. “Move, I saw chips.” The apartment quickly filled with noise as everyone settled into the living room area. Sunoo immediately curled up into one corner of the couch while Nicholas wandered around inspecting the apartment like a judge on a reality show.
Meanwhile Jungwon and Taki had quietly drifted over toward Niki near the kitchen entrance. (Y/n) couldn’t hear what they were saying exactly, but judging from the way Taki kept grinning and Jungwon looked deeply entertained, they were definitely teasing him. Especially because Taki glanced toward (Y/n) at one point before whispering something that made Niki glare at him instantly. “You’re both annoying,” Niki muttered. “That scenting was subtle by the way,” Jungwon said dryly. Niki looked offended. “It was subtle.” Taki nearly choked laughing. Before Niki could threaten them properly, the doorbell rang again.
(Y/n) walked over and opened the door once more. This time Kei, Yuma, Jay, and Sunghoon stood outside waiting. Yuma waved immediately. “We brought emotional support.” “You brought yourselves,” Sunghoon corrected. “Exactly.” Jay stepped forward holding something carefully in his hands. When he handed it to (Y/n), she blinked in surprise. It was a small plant sitting in a cute ceramic pot. “It’s not much,” Jay said with a soft smile. “But it’s kind of a late move-in present.” (Y/n)’s expression softened immediately. “That’s actually really sweet.” Jay looked smug instantly. “I know.” She carefully took the plant from him. “Thank you, Jay.” Then she glanced between Jay and Fuma thoughtfully before laughing. “Well.” She smiled teasingly. “At least we know which two of you were raised properly.”
The room erupted instantly. Gasps. Fake offended noises. Taki actually clutched his chest dramatically. “That’s evil.” “We brought our presence,” Yuma defended. “Which is clearly not enough,” Nicholas replied. Soon the offended reactions dissolved into laughter instead. Niki stood a few steps away from the group watching everything quietly. Watching how naturally (Y/n) laughed with them. How comfortable she already seemed around his friends. How easily she fit into the chaos. And honestly? It made something warm settle in his chest. But at the same time… A tiny jealous part of him hated how much attention everyone else was getting from her too.
After the initial chaos finally settled down slightly, the group moved on to the next important matter. Food. Which somehow became even more chaotic. (Y/n) sat cross legged on the couch holding her phone while everyone shouted food requests over each other from around the living room. “Get fried chicken!” “Pizza too.” “We need fries.” “Who even eats fries with pizza?” “Normal people.” “Order ramen!” “You cannot order ramen for delivery to a party.” “Watch me.” (Y/n) stared at the screen in horror as the order kept growing larger and larger. “We need dessert too.” (Y/n)’s eyes widened further with every added item. “Guys…” she interrupted slowly. “Are you trying to feed an entire army?”
Nicholas looked genuinely confused. “There’s twelve of us.” “That is still a ridiculous amount of food.” The boys all exchanged confused looks. Because to them? This honestly seemed normal. Between being supernatural creatures and university dancers constantly burning through energy, all of them ate absurd amounts regularly. (Y/n), however, had absolutely no idea about the supernatural part. So from her perspective, this was horrifying. Jake casually leaned over the couch to glance at the order total. “Actually, we might need more.” (Y/n) gasped dramatically. “More?!” Niki laughed loudly from nearby. “Let’s be done with it, she looks genuinely stressed.” “I am stressed,” (Y/n) defended. “This order could financially ruin someone.” “That’s why you have my card,” Niki reminded casually. “That somehow makes it worse!” The boys burst into laughter again.
Still, despite her disbelief, (Y/n) eventually finalized the massive order because everyone looked so genuinely excited about it. Honestly, seeing them all happy made her happy too. As the conversation drifted elsewhere afterward, (Y/n) glanced toward Kei. “Wait,” she said suddenly. “Please tell me Aya is coming over too?” Kei shook his head slightly. “No. She’s busy with friends from her major tonight.” (Y/n) nodded slowly before sighing dramatically. “So basically,” she announced while looking around the room full of loud supernatural men, “I’m alone dealing with all of you.” The boys immediately started laughing. “You’ll survive,” Sunghoon said calmly. “Barely,” (Y/n) muttered suspiciously.
Jungwon smiled slightly from where he sat beside Taki. “Don’t worry,” he said reassuringly. “We’ll only break Niki’s stuff. We promise.” (Y/n) laughed immediately. Meanwhile Niki looked deeply offended. “Why is everyone acting like my belongings are public property?” “Because they basically are,” Jake answered. “That’s true,” Yuma agreed instantly. Niki glared at all of them while they laughed harder. Honestly, though? Watching everyone spread comfortably throughout the apartment while talking over each other and stealing snacks already made the place feel strangely warm. Lived in. Like home.
Eventually the group migrated fully into the living room. Someone found a board game shoved into one of the cabinets, which immediately turned into everyone arguing over the rules despite nobody having started yet. “We should dye hair first,” Taki suggested. “No,” (Y/n) said immediately. “Absolutely not. I’m not risking one of you spilling hair dye while eating.” Eventually everyone agreed it was smarter to eat first and risk temporary stupidity later.
So instead, they set up the board game while waiting for the food delivery to arrive. The next problem quickly became deciding teams. “I call (Y/n)!” Sunoo announced immediately. “No fair, I was gonna say that,” Jake complained. Yuma pointed dramatically across the room. “She’s clearly the smartest one here. I need her on my team for survival.” (Y/n) laughed while sitting down near the couch and coffee table setup. Before she could respond though, Niki suddenly scoffed loudly. Then casually sat down directly beside her. Very close beside her. The others immediately narrowed their eyes suspiciously. Niki threw an arm around her shoulders while glaring harshly at everyone else. “As the hosts,” he said smugly, “we should obviously play together, right?” The cocky tone alone made half the room burst out laughing.
“Oh my god,” Nicholas groaned. “He’s being possessive again,” Jake whispered loudly. Niki ignored all of them. Meanwhile (Y/n) looked down at the arm around her shoulders before dramatically shoving it away. “Ew,” she said while brushing at her shoulder. “Boy germs.” The room erupted immediately. Niki only smirked instead of looking offended. Then leaned closer toward her until his lips were near her ear. “You didn’t seem to mind my germs,” he whispered teasingly, “when we hugged the other day.” (Y/n)’s entire face heated up instantly. Her neck. Her ears. Her cheeks. She whipped around to glare at him. “Shut up,” she hissed quietly. Niki chuckled softly, completely pleased with himself. “Whatever you want, honey.” Several of the others gagged dramatically. “Disgusting,” Sunghoon muttered. “They’re flirting again,” Taki sighed dramatically.
Meanwhile (Y/n) looked one second away from strangling Niki with a couch pillow. Still, while the two of them play fought quietly over insults and shoulder shoving, everyone else eventually settled into teams. Kei and Fuma teamed up almost immediately. Jay paired with Sunoo after Sunoo declared he wanted “someone pretty” on his team. Nicholas and Sunghoon somehow became partners after mutually agreeing they were the only competent ones there. Yuma and Taki joined forces purely to create chaos. And finally Jungwon ended up paired with Jake. “Why do I feel like we’re doomed already?” Jungwon sighed. “Because you are,” Jake answered confidently.
Soon everyone sat gathered around the board game setup across the living room floor. And honestly? It became obvious very quickly who was thriving and who absolutely was not. Sunghoon and Nicholas were terrifyingly competitive. Meanwhile (Y/n) and Niki somehow worked suspiciously well together despite spending half the game arguing. Everyone else, however, struggled just to survive the first few rounds. At one point Yuma accidentally sabotaged himself. Twice. “You can’t keep making decisions based on vibes,” Jungwon complained. “Yes I can.” “No you literally can’t.” Meanwhile Taki had somehow forgotten the rules entirely despite them being explained less than ten minutes earlier.
And through all the noise and laughter filling the apartment, Niki found himself glancing toward (Y/n) over and over again. Because every time she laughed, smiled, or leaned closer toward him during the game, he caught himself wishing the night would last forever. Soon enough, the doorbell rang. Before anyone else could even react, Jungwon practically launched himself off the couch and sprinted toward the door. “The food is here!” he announced loudly. As if the rest of them hadn’t heard the very obvious doorbell already. “We know!” Sunoo yelled after him while laughing. Jungwon ignored him completely and opened the door for the delivery driver with the excitement of someone greeting a long lost friend.
The amount of food bags sitting outside the door was honestly terrifying. “Oh my god,” (Y/n) muttered from the couch. Fuma and Sunghoon immediately got up to help carry everything into the kitchen while the others crowded around trying to peek inside the bags already. “Careful!” Soon the kitchen counters were completely covered in food containers, drinks, and side dishes. The smell alone nearly made Yuma emotional. “We’re about to feast.” “You say that every time food arrives,” Jay pointed out. “Because every time it’s true.” While everyone hovered around impatiently, Kei quietly grabbed a clean plate first before handing it to (Y/n). “You should go first,” he said calmly.
(Y/n) blinked. “Huh?” Kei nodded toward the others. “If you don’t take what you want first,” he explained, “these idiots are gonna steal everything.” Several offended noises immediately filled the kitchen. “Rude.” “That’s not true.” “Okay maybe a little true.” (Y/n) burst out laughing while taking the plate. “This is like living with monsters,” she joked dramatically. “I swear.” The words hit slightly differently for a second. Because technically… Half the room were vampires. And the other half werewolves. Creatures plenty of humans would absolutely call monsters without hesitation. A few of the boys went momentarily quiet. Not upset. Just aware. Still, none of them minded. Because they knew she didn’t mean any harm by it.
If anything, the warmth in her voice made it obvious she felt comfortable around them. Sunoo quickly pointed toward one of the containers. “If you want ramen, take a lot now.” Yuma pointed dramatically at the fried chicken beside it. “And the chicken too.” (Y/n) blinked at them. “Why?” Both of them answered immediately. “Because it’ll disappear in seconds.” She laughed again but listened anyway, filling her plate with a little bit of everything while the boys hovered nearby like starving animals waiting for permission.
The second she finally stepped back and said, “Okay, I’m done,” complete chaos erupted. Every single one of them grabbed plates at once. There was no politeness. No “you first.” No civilized behavior whatsoever. It immediately became survival of the fittest. “MOVE.” “You just took four pieces!” “And I’ll take four more.” “WHO TOOK THE LAST DUMPLINGS?!” “Finders keepers.” (Y/n) stood there staring in complete disbelief while the kitchen dissolved into absolute madness around her. Niki somehow reached over Jake’s shoulder to steal chicken while Sunghoon blocked Yuma away from the noodles with terrifying efficiency.
Nicholas held two drink bottles at once like he was preparing for war. Meanwhile Taki looked deeply betrayed over losing a piece of fried shrimp. “These people are insane,” (Y/n) whispered to Kei. Kei calmly nodded while stealing food directly off Fuma’s plate. “Yeah.” Once everyone finally settled down with food balanced on plates and drinks spread around the living room, the atmosphere became calmer. Well. As calm as eleven dancers packed into one apartment could possibly be.
(Y/n) sat cross legged on the floor beside the coffee table, eating while listening to the others argue over whether stealing fries from someone else’s plate counted as betrayal. “It absolutely does,” Sunoo said seriously. “If the fries are unguarded, they become public property,” Yuma argued back. “That’s not how ownership works.” “It should be.” While the argument continued in the background, (Y/n) looked toward Kei. “Actually,” she said, “the list of teams for the showcase got released earlier today, right?” Several of the boys immediately looked over. (Y/n) continued, “Have you competed against most of them before?” Kei nodded while setting his drink down. “Most of them, yeah.”
(Y/n) tilted her head slightly. “So who’s the biggest competition?” Kei hummed thoughtfully for a second. “Well,” he said, “even though we’re partly a new team now, I’d actually say we’re stronger than before.” Jungwon nodded immediately. “We have more versatility now.” “And the chemistry’s good already,” Jay added. Kei continued calmly, “So unless some of the other teams have had insane growth recently, most of them won’t be a huge problem.” (Y/n) nodded slowly, mentally filing that information away. “But,” Kei added, “our biggest competitors are definitely Eclipse and Vanguard.” (Y/n) repeated the names quietly in her head. Eclipse. Vanguard. She immediately made a mental note to research those teams more later.
Beside her, Fuma looked thoughtful. “I’ve heard about Eclipse before,” he admitted. “But I’ve never actually seen them compete live.” “Same,” Nicholas added. Niki sighed dramatically from beside (Y/n). “Eclipse is definitely the biggest threat.” That caught her attention immediately. “Really?” Niki nodded. “Mostly because my sister’s on that team.” (Y/n) blinked in surprise. “You have a sister?” Several of the boys burst out laughing instantly. “How did you not know that?” Jake asked. Niki looked offended. “I’ve mentioned her before.” “No you haven’t,” (Y/n) answered flatly. “Yes I have.”
Niki ignored the comment. “Her name’s Konon,” he explained to (Y/n). “And she’s terrifying.” “That’s true,” Jay immediately agreed. He leaned back slightly before continuing. “Honestly, the rest of Eclipse is good too, but Konon makes the whole team stronger.” Kei nodded. “She’s one of the best dancers in university competitions right now.” “And ridiculously competitive,” Sunoo added. Niki sighed. “She beat me at literally everything growing up.” (Y/n) laughed softly. “That explains a lot actually.” “Rude.” Jay continued, “Eclipse and Vanguard are basically the only teams we’ve consistently struggled against for the past two years.” “It’s always close too,” Jungwon added. “Like insanely close.”
Jake nodded while stealing food directly off Jungwon’s plate. “It usually comes down to the team’s condition that specific day.” Jungwon sighed but allowed the theft. “If even one person feels off,” Jake explained, “the whole dynamic changes.” “And then we lose points,” Sunghoon added. “Usually by decimals,” Kei muttered. (Y/n)’s expression slowly became more thoughtful. “So basically…” She looked around at all of them carefully. “We need to make sure everyone’s able to give one hundred and ten percent that day.” The room quieted slightly. Then everyone nodded. Because she was right. At this level, talent alone wasn’t enough anymore. One mistake. One bad day. One weak performance. That was all it took to lose.
After everyone finished eating, (Y/n) stood in the kitchen staring at the aftermath in complete disbelief. Or more accurately… The complete lack of aftermath. Every container was empty. Not a single fry remained. The ramen broth was gone. Even the side dishes had been annihilated. (Y/n) slowly looked around at the boys in horror. “Where did it all go?” Jake blinked innocently while drinking soda. “What do you mean?” “There was enough food for twenty people!” “And yet,” Yuma said proudly, “we persevered.” “You guys are terrifying.” “Thank you,” Sunghoon answered calmly. As several of the boys started helping clean up the containers and plates, (Y/n) finally shifted her attention toward the giant pile of hair products she had bought earlier.
Sunoo immediately walked over beside her. “Okay,” he said seriously. “First lesson.” (Y/n) laughed. “You’re acting like we’re entering a laboratory.” “We basically are.” Together they spread out all the dye boxes, bleach, gloves, brushes, bowls, and foil while Sunoo explained how to apply everything properly. Meanwhile the others cleaned the kitchen surprisingly fast. Soon enough, they transformed the hallway into a temporary hair salon. Plastic sheets covered the floor. Two chairs had been placed near a mirror. Bowls of dye and bleach sat lined up carefully nearby. Fuma looked around the setup curiously. “Why aren’t we doing this in the bathroom?”
(Y/n) answered immediately while pulling gloves on. “Well first of all,” she said, “I don’t want all of you in my room.” Several offended noises echoed instantly. “I love you guys,” she continued calmly, “but after everything I’ve heard tonight, I do not trust you enough not to break something.” “That’s fair,” Jay admitted. “And,” (Y/n) added while pointing toward Niki, “your precious prince over there wasn’t too keen on us using his bathroom either.” Niki crossed his arms defensively. “You people destroy things.” “We do not,” Taki argued. Everyone stared at him. “Okay sometimes,” he admitted. (Y/n) continued, “And the guest bathroom’s too small. So hallway salon it is.” Fuma laughed softly. “Well then,” he said, “we’d better make the hallway work.”
First came Sunoo. Since he only needed his roots touched up, the process was much faster than the others would be. (Y/n) carefully reapplied bleach to his darker roots while Sunoo supervised like a strict teacher. “Not too close to the scalp.” “Yes sir.” “You joke now but chemical burns are real.” (Y/n) laughed quietly while continuing carefully. Eventually, Sunoo’s roots finished processing and they rinsed everything out successfully. “Okay,” (Y/n) announced afterward while drying her hands. “Next victims.” “Victims?” Nicholas repeated nervously. “Wonderful choice of wording.” Sunoo said as he laughed.
(Y/n) pointed dramatically. “Niki and Nicholas. Come here.” Niki moved immediately. Almost suspiciously fast. Before Nicholas could even fully react, Niki had already dropped himself into the chair directly in front of (Y/n). She stared at him. Then sighed. “Idiot,” she muttered while nudging his shoulder lightly. Even with his back facing her, Niki could hear the smile in her voice. Which honestly made his chest feel warm immediately. Meanwhile Nicholas slowly sat down in the second chair while Sunoo prepared the red dye nearby. “Oh this is terrifying,” Nicholas admitted. “You’ll survive,” Sunoo assured him. “Probably.” And so the process officially began.
(Y/n) carefully started applying bleach through Niki’s dark hair while Sunoo worked on coating Nicholas’ hair in a deep vivid red. The apartment quickly filled with noise again. Yuma loudly judged everyone’s techniques despite having zero experience. Jake kept threatening to dye random streaks into people’s hair “for artistic vision.” And Taki sat nearby recording videos for social media while pretending to host a reality TV makeover show. Meanwhile Niki stayed unusually still while (Y/n)’s fingers moved gently through his hair. Honestly? He could probably sit there forever if it meant she kept touching him like that. As (Y/n)’s fingers carefully worked bleach through Niki’s hair, he nearly made a terrible mistake. Because honestly? It felt way too nice.
Her fingers moved gently through his hair, separating strands carefully while concentrating fully on what she was doing. Niki almost let out a content sound before barely stopping himself at the last second. Thankfully no noise escaped. Because if it had, the others would never let him live it down. Meanwhile, (Y/n) tried very hard not to acknowledge how much she actually liked touching his hair. It was soft. Way softer than she expected. Sure, his hair always looked shiny and fluffy and annoyingly perfect, but she never imagined it would actually feel this soft too. Honestly, it was unfair.
“How is your hair softer than mine?” she muttered quietly. Niki smirked immediately. “So you admit you’re enjoying this.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes while continuing to apply bleach. “Don’t get cocky.” “I’m always cocky.” “That’s the problem.” Eventually she stepped back slightly to inspect her work. “Okay,” she said, “now we wait for the bleach to process a little.” Niki tilted his head back slightly to look at her. “Then what?” “Then we rinse it and see how light it gets,” she explained. “And depending on the color, we’ll figure out if you need toner or not.” Niki nodded absentmindedly. Mostly because he was too busy staring at her.
(Y/n) nudged his shoulder lightly. “Move now,” she said. “I need to start on Jay.” Niki frowned immediately. But didn’t move. (Y/n) stared at him. “Niki.” “Can’t Sunoo do Jay?” he asked casually. Sunoo looked up from Nicholas’ hair instantly. “Excuse me?” (Y/n) sighed. “No,” she answered patiently. “Because Sunoo’s still busy with Nicholas.” Sunoo nodded while applying more dye. “And because if I leave Nicholas alone, he’ll panic.” “I am panicking,” Nicholas admitted. (Y/n) pointed toward the chair. “So move.” Niki crossed his arms slightly. “I don’t want to.” The entire apartment immediately went quiet for half a second. Because somehow the tall vampire sounded genuinely sulky. (Y/n) stared at him in disbelief. Then sighed again.
“Fine.” She looked toward Jay instead. “Jay, come on then. We’ll just do yours in my bathroom.” Instantly, Niki stood up. Like immediately. So fast it almost looked violent. “Nope.” Before Jay could even react, Niki grabbed his shoulders and shoved him directly down into the chair he had just vacated. “There,” Niki said stiffly. “Happy now?” The room fell silent again. Then several people exchanged knowing looks instantly. Because that reaction had been painfully obvious. Even (Y/n) blinked at him slightly. Niki looked away immediately afterward, clearly realizing what he had just done. His ears had turned faintly red too.
Meanwhile Taki looked seconds away from screaming. Jake physically covered his own mouth to stop himself from laughing. Sunghoon just sighed deeply like he was exhausted by Niki’s existence. (Y/n) slowly looked toward Sunoo beside her. Sunoo only smiled sheepishly. Like yes, they all saw that. And no, nobody was going to let him forget it later. Still, (Y/n) decided not to question Niki about it in front of everyone. Mostly because she had a feeling it would somehow make him combust from embarrassment. So instead, she quietly grabbed the blue dye bowl and started working on Jay’s hair while pretending nothing had happened. Even though the entire room absolutely noticed.
While (Y/n) worked on Jay’s hair, Niki sat across from them. Staring. At first he tried to be subtle about it. Or at least what passed for subtle in Niki’s mind. He sat with his phone in hand, scrolling through social media, occasionally tapping the screen. A completely normal guy. Doing completely normal things. At least that was the image he was trying to project. Unfortunately for him, every few seconds his eyes drifted away from the screen. Back to (Y/n). Back to Jay. Back to the way her fingers carefully worked through Jay’s dark hair as she applied the blue dye. Back to her smile whenever someone said something funny. Back to her.
At one point she took a slightly deeper breath while concentrating. Niki’s eyes immediately left his phone. Nicholas watched the whole thing happen. And honestly? It was taking everything he had not to laugh. Because Niki was not nearly as subtle as he thought he was. Jay and (Y/n) seemed oblivious. Mostly because Jay was busy asking questions about the dye process and (Y/n) was focused on making sure she didn’t accidentally stain his ears blue. But Nicholas noticed. Every time. Phone. (Y/n). Phone. (Y/n). Phone. (Y/n). The cycle never ended. Eventually Nicholas had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.
Still… He couldn’t really judge. Not fairly anyway. Because werewolves were often even worse. Hell, Nicholas was already territorial over his hoodies. The team stole them constantly, and every single time it annoyed him. Especially when they somehow lost them. Or returned them smelling like someone else’s detergent. The point was… If he got this protective over clothes, he really didn’t want to imagine what he’d be like around a mate. Probably unbearable. Which meant he couldn’t really judge Niki for this. If anything, Nicholas understood him. His mate had just gotten out of a relationship. They lived together. She was always nearby. Always within reach. Yet somehow still felt far away. Close enough to see. Too far away to have. It had to be torture. So honestly? A little possessiveness wasn’t that surprising. Not when every instinct in Niki’s body was probably screaming at him to claim her, protect her, and never let anyone else near her. Nicholas glanced toward the vampire again. Right on cue, Niki’s attention snapped away from his phone because Jay had laughed at something (Y/n) said. Nicholas immediately looked away before he accidentally laughed out loud. Poor guy. He really had it bad.
Soon enough, it was time to rinse the bleach out of Niki’s hair. Despite being perfectly capable of doing it himself. Despite having two functioning hands. Despite being over six feet tall. Niki somehow managed to convince (Y/n) that he needed help. “I can’t see the back.” “You don’t need to.” “Yes I do.” “You absolutely can do it on your own.” “What if I miss a spot?” (Y/n) sighed. “You’re impossible.” Yet somehow, five minutes later, she was helping him anyway. Now they stood squeezed into the guest bathroom together. Which was proving to be a terrible idea.
The bathroom was small enough already, and now both of them were trying to fit inside the shower stall. Niki was bent awkwardly forward beneath the shower head while (Y/n) stood partly inside the shower beside him, trying to rinse the bleach out properly. Trying being the important word. Because she was failing miserably. Water splashed everywhere. His back was soaked. His shoulders were soaked. His sweatpants were rapidly becoming soaked. And although neither of them could really see it from their current position, the front of his shirt wasn’t doing much better.
“This is harder than it looks,” (Y/n) complained. Niki was trying very hard not to laugh. “You’re literally spraying my ear.” “I’m trying!” Meanwhile Sunoo had appeared at the bathroom door. Mostly because he wanted to make sure Niki didn’t accidentally end up orange. Instead he found one of the funniest sights he’d seen all night. The very tall Niki bent nearly in half inside a shower stall while (Y/n) aggressively attacked his hair with the shower head. Sunoo immediately had to bite his lip. Because if he laughed, he’d never stop. (Y/n) wasn’t doing much better either. Her sleeves were soaked. Her legs looked like she’d walked through a river. “Why is there water everywhere?” she asked. “Excellent question,” Sunoo answered. “Very helpful.” “I try.”
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the last traces of bleach disappeared down the shower drain. “Done,” (Y/n) announced triumphantly. Finally Niki could stand up again. The second he straightened to his full height, both of them froze. Because his shirt was absolutely drenched. The grey fabric clung to him completely. (Y/n)’s eyes widened immediately. Niki looked down. Then looked back at her. And unfortunately… The devil on his shoulder won. A smirk slowly spread across his face. “Damn,” he said dramatically. (Y/n) immediately narrowed her eyes. “What?” Niki’s grin widened. “If you wanted me to take my shirt off that badly,” he said, “you could’ve just asked.” Then before she could respond, Niki grabbed the hem of his soaked shirt and pulled it over his head. (Y/n) let out a startled squeal immediately. “NIKI!”
The shirt landed somewhere on the bathroom floor. Meanwhile Niki looked entirely too pleased with himself. “You idiot!” she shouted. Her entire face had gone hot. Without another word, she spun around and practically sprinted out of the bathroom. Straight toward her room. And slammed the door behind her. Inside the bathroom, Niki stood there shirtless for exactly three seconds. Before realizing everyone else had definitely heard that. “Oh.” Meanwhile, out in the hallway. Every single member of the team was staring at him. The silence was deafening.
Then Jake sighed. “Niki.” Sunghoon rubbed his temples. “You need to relax.” “Seriously,” Jungwon added. “You’re gonna give her a heart attack,” Jay finished. Even Kei looked disappointed. Which somehow hurt the most. Niki crossed his arms defensively. “It was a joke.” “No,” Nicholas said. “That was flirting.” “It was absolutely flirting,” Taki agreed. “It worked too,” Yuma added. Niki groaned loudly. Meanwhile from behind her bedroom door, (Y/n) buried her face in her hands and wondered why her roommate insisted on being such a menace to society.
After changing into a dry shirt and a fresh pair of pants, (Y/n) finally felt a little more presentable. Her embarrassment, however, remained completely intact. She opened her bedroom door cautiously before stepping back into the hallway. The first person she ran into was Fuma. He stood near the wall with his phone in his hand, looking like he had just finished a call. When he noticed her, he smiled. “Feeling better?” (Y/n) sighed. “Physically? Yes.” “And mentally?” She groaned. Fuma laughed softly. “So that’s a no.” (Y/n) leaned against the opposite wall. “It’s just weird.” Fuma nodded thoughtfully. “That’s fair.”
For a moment neither of them spoke. The noise from the others drifted through the apartment. Someone was laughing. Someone else was arguing. It sounded like Yuma was being accused of stealing snacks again. Normal. Comfortable. Then Fuma looked at her. “Want some advice?” (Y/n) hesitated for a second before nodding. “Sure.” Fuma stepped over and leaned his back against the wall beside her. For a moment he seemed to be considering his words carefully. “Niki’s a good kid.” (Y/n) smiled slightly. “Yeah.” “He takes things seriously.” That made her laugh. “Not always.” “More than he pretends to.” Fuma smiled. “He’s a perfectionist. He wants to do well. He wants people around him to do well too.”
(Y/n) nodded quietly. That sounded like Niki. “He can be mature when he wants to be,” Fuma continued. “But he’s also still young.” “The youngest.” “The youngest,” Fuma agreed. “Which means the rest of us still treat him like a kid sometimes.” (Y/n) smiled. “I’m sure he loves that.” “He absolutely hates it.” That earned another laugh from her. Fuma’s expression softened. “The thing is, he’s still figuring things out.” “Like what?” “Life.” (Y/n) tilted her head slightly. Fuma looked away for a moment. Then sighed. “He’s going to kill me for saying this.” That immediately got her attention. “But honestly?” He smiled. “All the stupid things he’s doing lately?” (Y/n) blinked. “Yeah?” “They’re all to impress you.” For a second she simply stared at him. Then laughed nervously.
“That’s ridiculous.” “Is it?” “Yes.” Fuma raised an eyebrow. (Y/n) pointed toward herself. “Why would he want to impress me?” Fuma looked genuinely surprised by the question. “Seriously?” “Yes, seriously.” “(Y/n).” “What?” “You’re smart.” She frowned. “Okay?” “You work harder than almost anyone I know.” (Y/n) looked away. “That’s different.” “You take care of everyone.” “Not everyone.” “You literally organized this entire team.” (Y/n) opened her mouth. Then closed it again. Fuma smiled knowingly. “My point is,” he said, “you see yourself very differently than other people see you.”
(Y/n) stood quietly. Not really sure how to respond to that. After a moment she spoke. “Even if that’s true…” She hesitated. “I still don’t understand why he’d care what I think.” Fuma chuckled. Then shrugged. “I’ve already said more than I should.” “Fuma.” “Nope.” “Fuma.” “You’ll have to figure that one out yourself.” (Y/n) groaned. “That’s not helpful.” “It’s very helpful.” “It isn’t.” “It is.” (Y/n) crossed her arms. Fuma laughed again. Then pushed himself away from the wall. As he walked past her, he paused briefly. “Oh, and don’t mind him too much.” (Y/n) looked up. Fuma smiled. “He’s just a bit stupid sometimes.” Then he continued down the hallway before she could ask anything else. Leaving (Y/n) standing there alone. Thinking. And for the first time in a long while, she found herself wondering if maybe… Just maybe… Everyone else was seeing something she wasn’t.
After the hair dye adventure finally ended, everyone took turns looking at themselves in mirrors. The results were honestly better than (Y/n) had expected. Niki’s hair had turned the perfect blonde. Not too yellow. Not too white. Just enough to make his features stand out even more than before. Which honestly felt unfair. Jay’s dark blue hair looked incredible too, especially when the light hit it. Nicholas’ deep red suited him surprisingly well. And finally, Sunoo’s roots matched the rest of his blonde hair once again. As (Y/n) looked around at the team, she smiled proudly. They looked more balanced now. More memorable. More like the kind of team people would remember after stepping off a stage. The others seemed happy too. Which made all the work worth it.
As the night continued, everyone gradually drifted back toward the living room. Another board game appeared. Nobody remembered who found it. Only that suddenly they were all sitting on the floor again. This time, however, (Y/n) was prepared. The second teams were mentioned, she immediately sat down beside Jungwon. “I’m on Jungwon’s team.” Jungwon blinked. “Okay?” Meanwhile Niki looked deeply offended. “I wasn’t even gonna say anything.” “Liar,” six people answered immediately. Niki clicked his tongue. Traitors. The game began anyway.
For a while, (Y/n) managed to stay engaged. She laughed when Taki accidentally sabotaged his own team. Again. She watched Sunghoon and Nicholas become far too competitive over something completely meaningless. She listened to Yuma accuse everyone of cheating. Even though nobody was. But slowly… The exhaustion caught up to her. Cleaning all day. Running errands yesterday. The emotional exhaustion from the week. The constant planning for the showcase. It was all finally catching up. Her eyelids became heavier. And heavier. At first, she fought it. She blinked rapidly. Drank some water. Tried focusing on the game. It didn’t work.
Every few minutes, her eyes drifted shut for a second longer. Then another second. Then another. Eventually, even Jungwon noticed. “You okay?” he asked quietly. (Y/n) nodded. “Mmhm.” Then immediately yawned. Jungwon smiled. “You look exhausted.” “Maybe a little.” “A little?” “Okay, a lot.” The others were too busy arguing about the game to notice. Except one person. Niki. Because Niki had been watching her all night. Every yawn. Every blink. Every time her head dipped forward before jerking back up again.
So when it finally happened… He was already moving. (Y/n)’s eyes drifted shut. Her body relaxed. And her head slowly tilted sideways. Almost toward Jungwon’s shoulder. Almost. Before it could happen, Niki disappeared. To everyone else, it looked like a blur. One second, he was across the room, the next he was beside her. His arm slid behind her before she could tip over. Still asleep, (Y/n) instinctively relaxed into the support. Niki looked down at her. Then carefully lifted her into his arms. Princess style. Like she weighed absolutely nothing. The room immediately fell silent. Niki glanced around at everyone. “The party’s over.” His voice was quiet. But somehow everyone heard it. “Everyone, go home.”
Kei chuckled. “Who made you the boss?” Normally Niki would’ve fired back immediately. Instead he simply adjusted (Y/n) slightly in his arms. Making sure she was comfortable. Then walked toward her bedroom. The answer was obvious enough. No response needed. The bedroom door opened. Then closed behind him. Inside, the room was dark and peaceful. Niki carefully carried her over to the bed. For a moment, he just stood there. Looking at her. She looked completely exhausted. Yet peaceful. Happy.
Far happier than she’d looked a few days ago. Slowly, he lowered her onto the mattress. She shifted slightly in her sleep, curling into the blankets. Niki gently pulled them over her shoulders. Then brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face. “Goodnight,” he whispered. For a second, he considered staying. Just sitting there. Making sure she slept comfortably. But eventually he stood back up and headed for the door. Outside, he found ten idiots staring at him. The second the bedroom door clicked shut behind him, Taki pointed dramatically. “You are so down bad.” Niki immediately flipped him off.
~~~
After everyone finally left, the apartment became quiet. A strange kind of quiet. Just a few hours ago, it had been filled with laughter, arguments, music, and Taki’s endless commentary. Now it was just Niki. And a mess, a very large mess. The living room was covered in empty cups, board games, snack bowls, blankets, and random belongings people had forgotten and would inevitably text him about tomorrow. Niki sighed. Then got to work. Despite his usual laziness when it came to household chores, he cleaned surprisingly thoroughly.
Mostly because he didn’t want (Y/n) waking up tomorrow and feeling like she had to clean everything herself. The thought alone was enough motivation. So he washed dishes. Wiped down counters. Put furniture back where it belonged. Collected empty bottles. Folded blankets. Every now and then, he glanced toward her bedroom door. Still closed. Still quiet. Good. She needed the sleep. By the time he finished most of the cleaning, almost three hours had passed. It was well after midnight.
Niki was putting away the last few dishes when he heard it. A door opening. Immediately his head snapped up. He turned toward the hallway. (Y/n) stood there. At first, relief washed through him. Then concern hit just as quickly. Because something was wrong. Very wrong. Even from across the apartment, he could smell it. Fear. Not anxiety. Not sadness. Fear. Her scent was saturated with it. She stood frozen in the hallway. Her eyes wide. Her breathing uneven. Almost like she didn’t know where she was.
Niki abandoned the dish towel immediately. “(Y/n)?” She looked up. Their eyes met. And suddenly her expression cracked. “Niki…” she whispered. Then she started crying. Not the quiet crying from after her breakup. Not the sad tears he’d seen before. This was different. Panicked. Broken. Like she’d been holding herself together by a thread. Niki immediately crossed the room. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” She didn’t answer. Instead she threw herself into him. Her hands grabbed his shirt. Her face buried itself against his chest. And she sobbed. The sound shattered something inside him. Niki wrapped his arms around her instantly. Holding her tightly. Protectively. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m here.”
Had he woken her up somehow? Did she have a nightmare? Did she dream about Euijoo? About her old roommates? About everything she’d been through recently? Niki didn’t know. And honestly, right now it didn’t matter. Because she was terrified. He could feel it in the way she clung to him. Like if she let go, she’d fall apart completely. So Niki tightened his arms around her. One hand moved gently through her hair. The other rested against her back. Trying to soothe her. Trying to make her feel safe. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. His voice was soft. Softer than almost anyone ever heard from him. “Whatever happened, it’s okay.” (Y/n) shook her head against his chest. Still crying. Still struggling to breathe properly between sobs.
Niki felt helpless. He hated it. Hated not knowing what was wrong. Hated not knowing how to fix it. But for once, he forced himself not to search for a solution. Not to rush. Not to demand answers. Instead he simply stayed there. Holding her. Letting her cry. Letting her feel whatever she needed to feel. Because sometimes being there was enough. And if it wasn’t enough? Then he’d stay anyway. After a few minutes, Niki realized he had a problem. (Y/n) refused to move. He had tried everything. “Do you want to sit down?” She shook her head. “Do you want to go back to your room?” Another shake. “Do you want some water?” Nothing.
She just kept holding onto him. Her hands remained twisted into the fabric of his shirt while she cried. At first, Niki let it happen. But after several more minutes of standing in the hallway, he finally sighed. “Okay.” Before she could react, he slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back. Then picked her up. (Y/n) let out a small gasp of surprise. But she didn’t protest. Instead, she immediately curled closer against him and continued crying. Niki’s chest hurt. Because whatever nightmare she’d had… It had terrified her.
Quietly, he carried her into the living room. The couch seemed like a better place to sit than the middle of a hallway. He lowered himself down carefully. Expecting her to move beside him. She didn’t. Instead, she stayed exactly where she was. Curled up on his lap. Holding onto his shirt. Like letting go wasn’t an option. Niki wrapped both arms around her again. Holding her securely. Every now and then, he quietly whispered things. “It’s okay.” “Take your time.” “I’m here.” Simple things. Because he had no idea what else to say. He wasn’t good at comforting people. At least he didn’t think he was.
But slowly… It seemed to help. The scent of fear gradually faded. The trembling eased. Her crying became quieter. Until finally, nearly thirty minutes later, she calmed down. Her eyes were swollen. Her cheeks pink. But she could breathe normally again. And speak. “I’m sorry.” The words were barely above a whisper. Niki immediately tightened his arms around her. “It’s okay.” She shook her head slightly. “I’m sorry.” Niki looked up at the ceiling. Searching for the right words. Eventually, he sighed. “It’s okay to be scared.” (Y/n) didn’t respond. “And it’s okay to have nightmares.” His hand rubbed gently up and down her back. “Even if we’re adults.” A small laugh escaped her. Weak. Sleepy. “You’re probably the only one who would say that.”
Niki frowned slightly. He wasn’t entirely sure what she meant. But before he could ask, she yawned. A huge yawn. One that made her eyes water again. Immediately Niki abandoned the subject. Whatever she’d meant could wait. Right now, she looked exhausted. “Do you want to go back to your room?” he asked softly. (Y/n) instantly shook her head. “I don’t want to be alone.” The answer came so quickly it made something twist painfully in Niki’s chest. He nodded. “Okay.” For a moment, neither of them spoke. “Well, the couch isn’t very comfortable to sleep on,” Niki said. Then (Y/n) sniffed. “Oh.” “What?” “I’ll just stay out here then.” Niki waited. “You can go to your room.”
The suggestion was so ridiculous that Niki almost laughed. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against the top of her head. “I never said I’d leave you alone.” (Y/n) froze slightly. Niki pretended not to notice. “If you’re okay with it,” he continued quietly, “maybe we can sleep in my room.” He glanced down at her. “Or yours.” “The couch isn’t exactly comfortable.” (Y/n) looked at him. Still tired. Still emotional. Still holding onto his shirt. And for the first time since she’d walked into the kitchen crying, she looked just a little bit safer. A little less scared. Like maybe she was finally starting to believe she wasn’t alone.
“Your room is okay,” she whispered. Niki’s heart immediately forgot how to function. Thankfully his face remained mostly normal. Mostly. “Alright,” he said quietly. Then he stood up. (Y/n) immediately tightened her arms around his neck. Not because she was trying to cling to him. But because she was exhausted and still scared. Still, Niki’s brain absolutely noticed. Carefully, he carried her down the hallway toward his room. He opened the door as quietly as possible. Stepped inside. Then closed it behind them. His room was surprisingly neat. Mostly because nobody except him was allowed in there. Particularly not Yuma.
Walking over to the bed, Niki lowered her onto the mattress gently. The second she touched the bed, she grabbed hold of the duvet. Like she needed something to anchor herself. Niki smiled softly. “Make yourself comfortable.” (Y/n) nodded. Niki pointed toward the bathroom. “I’m just gonna brush my teeth and stuff.” His voice remained gentle. “If you need me, just yell.” (Y/n)’s fingers tightened around the duvet. She really didn’t want to be alone. Even for a few minutes. Niki noticed immediately. Of course he did. “I’ll stand in the doorway as much as I can.” (Y/n) looked up. “I promise.” That seemed to help. A little. “Okay,” she whispered.
Niki nodded. Then hurried into the bathroom. Grabbing his toothbrush and toothpaste at record speed. A minute later, he was standing in the bathroom doorway, brushing his teeth while making sure she could still see him. Just like he promised. Meanwhile, his own brain had become complete chaos. His mate was in his room. His room. Lying in his bed. His bed. And she was about to sleep there. With him. Sleeping. In the same bed. Holy shit. Niki stared at the bathroom mirror. Then immediately looked away. Nope. Thinking about it made everything worse. So instead, he focused on brushing his teeth. On making sure she was okay. On making sure she didn’t panic again. On literally anything except the fact that his mate was currently wrapped in his blankets.
A minute later, he finished washing up. Then quickly headed back into the bedroom. The sight waiting for him almost made his heart explode. (Y/n) had shifted beneath the duvet. Only her head peeked out now. Her hair spread across the pillow. Her eyes drooped with exhaustion. Wrapped completely in his blankets like a burrito. Adorable. Absolutely adorable. Niki felt his chest tighten. She looked comfortable. Safe. Like maybe the fear from earlier was finally fading away. (Y/n) blinked sleepily at him. “You done?” Niki nodded. “Yeah.” His voice came out slightly softer than intended. (Y/n) scooted over slightly to make room for him. A simple gesture. A completely innocent gesture. Yet somehow, Niki felt like his soul had briefly left his body. Because this was happening. It was actually happening. And now he somehow had to act normal about it.
And so, Niki found himself lying in his own bed. With his mate barely a breath away. He stared up at the ceiling. Completely awake. Completely doomed. How was he supposed to sleep like this? Every instinct in his body was losing its mind. (Y/n)’s scent surrounded him. It lingered on the blankets. In the air. Close enough that every breath brought it back to him. Part of him found it comforting. Like a lullaby. Something warm and familiar. Something that made him feel calmer. Safer. Home. The other part felt like poison. Not because it hurt. Because it made his instincts impossible to ignore. Every vampire instinct he possessed screamed at him. Pull her closer. Wrap your arms around her. Protect her. Hold her. Kiss her. Do something. Anything. And every single instinct had to be ignored.
Because she trusted him. Because she was vulnerable right now. Because she needed comfort, not complications. So Niki clenched his jaw slightly. Then forced himself to relax. It took more effort than he’d ever admit to anyone. Eventually he turned his head slightly toward her. “Goodnight,” he whispered. For a moment, there was no response. Then he heard it. A small content sigh. Soft. Peaceful. The kind of sound someone made when they finally felt safe. Niki’s chest tightened. A second later, her breathing slowed. Evened out. And he knew she had fallen asleep. No more tears. No more fear. No more nightmares. Just sleep. Peaceful sleep.
Niki found himself watching her for a few moments longer. The tension had vanished from her face. The worried crease between her eyebrows was gone. She looked relaxed. Comfortable. Safe. Like whatever nightmare had chased her from her room couldn’t reach her here. Eventually, Niki let out a slow breath. Then looked back up at the ceiling. His instincts were still screaming. Still demanding. Still reminding him exactly how close she was. But underneath all of that was something stronger. Relief. Because she wasn’t crying anymore. Because she wasn’t scared anymore. Because for tonight at least… She was okay. And somehow, knowing that made it easier to ignore everything else. Eventually, exhaustion began to win. His eyes grew heavier. His thoughts slowed. And the last thing Niki remembered before sleep finally claimed him was the steady sound of her breathing beside him. A sound he decided he could listen to forever.
~~~ The End of chapter 7 ~~~
Are we finally seeing some steps toward a romantic relationship? Or do we think, (Y/n) needs more time?
What do you guys think the nightmare was about?
How is Niki going to handle (Y/n) sleeping in his bed?
synopsis: in which you post about the most insufferable guy in your class on an AITA thread, only to find someone in the comments defending him a little too passionately.
genre: enemies to lovers??
pairing: insufferable!sunghoon x menace!reader
warnings: sexual tension, so many gawddamn arguments, some eye fucking from sunghoon’s behalf, lowkey bratty!reader, dom!hoon, semi-public sex, washroom sex, spitting, choking, oral (m rec.), fingering, biting, mirror sex, so much degrading, begging, spanking, slapping, teasing, unprotected p in v (don’t do it…), creampie, light cum play…i think that’s it…
wc: 13k
a/n: i love me some enemies to lovers i feel ashamed 😔😋 anyways after almost 3 months ya gurl is back w anotha banger 😛😛 warning, this isn’t edited properly i did like a quick read over or 2 and ran out of patience. ill sit down months later to revise it (no i wont). as always, notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy :p
˙𐃷˙
the literature lecture hall buzzed quietly with the usual sounds of a monday morning class—keyboard typing, coffee lids snapping shut, chairs dragging lazily across the floor.
rain streaked against the tall windows beside you, grey light spilling across rows of half-awake university students while professor choi clicked through his lecture slides at the front.
this class was your last pick and you were barely listening until the next discussion question appeared on the board.
what does meursault's emotional detachment represent?
professor choi adjusted his thick framed circle glasses.
"thoughts?"
and then, unfortunately, park sunghoon raised his hand.
you already knew this was about to piss you off. your face twisting into one of pure disgust before the man even opened his mouth.
sunghoon sat three rows ahead of you, posture relaxed, one arm slung over the back of his chair like he owned the lecture hall. he didn't even look interested in the discussion, which somehow made it more annoying whenever he spoke and everyone listened anyway.
professor choi nodded toward him."go ahead."
sunghoon spoke evenly, like a corrupt politician who was going to promise world peace. like he was delivering some groundbreaking intellectual revelation instead of absolute nonsense.
"i think the novel critiques performative emotion more than emotional detachment itself."
you narrowed your eyes immediately. all you could hear was blah blah blah meh meh meh.
sunghoon continued, his tongue jutting out to wet his lips so the bullshit he was going to spew would come out smoother.
"society condemns meursault not because he committed murder, but because he doesn't react the way people expect him to emotionally. he refuses to fake grief, guilt, remorse—"
"because he doesn't have any," you interrupted flatly.
a few heads turned instantly, students giving each other knowing looks. sunghoon glanced over his shoulder at you.
not irritated. oh no no, worse. he was amused.
"that's an oversimplification." he clicked, leaning his head back to the front to give professor choi a lazy look that basically said 'you see what's happening here?'
"no," you said. "you're just romanticizing emotional incompetence because the author used fancy wording."
a quiet snort came from somewhere behind you causing sunghoon to turn fully in his seat now. "you think the entire point of the novel is that he's a bad person?"
"i think the point is that detachment isn't inherently profound just because a man is quiet."
that got a reaction, small and subtle. a couple students trying not to laugh, their binders going up to hide their facial expressions as professor choi gave them a warning look.
sunghoon's eyes narrowed slightly for the first time.
finally.
"you're reducing existentialism to a personality flaw."
"and you're treating basic human empathy like it's optional."
professor choi opened his mouth and closed it again. probably deciding it was safer not to interfere yet.
sunghoon rested his arm against the desk beside him.
"the novel literally argues that societal expectations of emotion are artificial."
"okay, but there's a difference between rejecting social performance and acting like a disconnected freak."
sunghoon gave you a look at the last word, "interesting choice of wording."
"oh please," you scoffed. "you're acting like meursault is some misunderstood visionary when really he's just emotionally constipated."
someone coughed to hide a laugh and sunghoon's jaw ticked slightly.
barely noticeable, but you noticed. because you notice everything about park sunghoon, the good and the bad. unfortunately, more of the good which was all physical. nothing mental of course, the man had an IQ of a turnip.
arguing with park sunghoon had become a skill you'd accidentally perfected over the past two years. he always looked composed, always calm. but there were little tells and small cracks. tiny expressions that appeared when you pushed hard enough.
and right now? he was getting annoyed.
good.
"you're too emotionally reactive to engage with the text objectively," he said, his dark eyes boring into your own as if he was trying to get under your skin.
which, to be fair, he was. you knew that, and he definitely knew that.
you let out a short laugh. "and you think sounding detached makes you intelligent."
his gaze held yours for a second too long. steady and sharp. "maybe i just know how to separate emotion from analysis."
"maybe you just enjoy hearing yourself talk."
sunghoon tilted his head slightly, "you've interrupted me four times."
"because every sentence somehow gets worse."
a few quiet laughs spread through the room again. you saw professor choi pinch the bridge of his nose from the corner of your eye.
sunghoon looked entirely unbothered by the class watching. if anything, he looked more focused now.
like he enjoyed this, he enjoyed the attention he was receiving. the perfect spotlight to argue with a classmate. which made you irrationally angrier. "you're intentionally ignoring nuance."
"and you're intentionally making this deeper than it actually is."
"literature is supposed to be analyzed deeply."
"not every quiet man with a god complex is philosophically revolutionary, sunghoon."
that one landed, hard. his brows lifted slightly and the room went quieter. you could practically feel everyone pretending not to listen now.
sunghoon leaned back slowly in his chair. still staring at you, not daring to break eye contact.
"you know," he said lightly, "for someone who claims i'm insufferable, you spend an impressive amount of time thinking about my opinions."
your stomach flipped in annoyance. strictly annoyance.
"trust me," you replied sweetly, "criticizing you is not a difficult intellectual exercise."
the corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile. which only irritated you more because why did he look entertained right now?
"you get weirdly passionate whenever i disagree with you."
"because you say insane things with unnecessary confidence."
"and yet you always argue back."
you opened your mouth immediately. "because someone has to humble you."
sunghoon's eyes flicked briefly down toward your mouth before returning to your eyes so quickly you almost thought you imagined it.
almost.
then he said quietly, "you've been trying for two years."
your heartbeat stumbled once, completely involuntary by the way. and judging by the sudden silence in the lecture hall, several other people noticed the shift too.
professor choi finally sighed loudly enough to cut through the tension.
"well," he muttered dryly, "this has certainly been more engaging than most of your discussion contributions."
a few students laughed softly.
you tore your gaze away from sunghoon first, reaching for your pen like your pulse hadn't just betrayed you for absolutely no reason.
meanwhile, across the room, sunghoon leaned back in his chair again.
looking entirely too pleased with himself.
˙𐃷˙
by the time professor choi dismissed the class, the atmosphere in the lecture hall felt weirdly charged.
like everyone had just witnessed something they definitely shouldn't have.
chairs scraped against the floor as students packed up their bags, conversations immediately erupting around the room.
you shoved your laptop into your tote aggressively, muttering curses about the boy who shall not be named.
mostly because you could still feel park sunghoon's smug expression somewhere in your peripheral vision.
you hated him and his stupid fucking beautiful face.
the worst part was that he never even looked genuinely angry during your arguments. no matter how heated things got, sunghoon always stayed calm—relaxed posture, steady voice, slightly amused expression like he was watching you self-destruct for entertainment.
it was infuriating.
sunoo appeared beside your desk, slinging his bag over one shoulder. "you know," he said casually, "that was kind of the highlight of my week."
you glared at your so called best friend, "you're sick."
"no seriously," sunoo grinned. "when you called him emotionally constipated i almost started clapping."
you huffed, standing up. "he deserved worse." together, you and sunoo started toward the lecture hall doors with the crowd of students funneling out into the hallway.
except—someone was standing near the exit.
waiting, wearing a black hoodie. arms crossed loosely.
park sunghoon.
of course he was, because the argument that had erupted during class just wasn't enough for this troll doll. your steps slowed instinctively and sunoo noticed immediately, his smile widened, ear to ear.
fucking traitor.
sunghoon's eyes found yours through the crowd almost instantly. calm as ever and annoyingly unreadable.
then, as you got closer, he pushed himself off the wall.
you already knew he was about to say something irritating, you could feel it.
sunghoon stepped aside just enough to let other students pass before leaning slightly closer toward you.
close enough that you caught the clean scent of his cologne beneath the lingering smell of coffee and rain.
"for someone who hates my opinions," he murmured quietly, "you seem obsessed with hearing them."
you stopped walking and slowly turned your head toward him. you hated how you had to crank your head up to make eye contact with him, the height difference between you two surrendering your loss.
"and for someone who claims to be emotionally detached," you replied sweetly, "you sure spend a lot of time trying to get my attention."
sunghoon's mouth twitched, that stupid almost-smile again. he looked down at you at with this look that you couldn't quite identify.
"see you monday." you hope one of you don't make it to monday, preferably him.
you stared at him for one long second, really stared. at his stupid face. his stupid sharp jawline. his stupid pretty mouth that constantly said the most unbearable things imaginable.
then you walked away before you committed a felony.
sunoo was already laughing beside you. "OH my god," he breathed. "you two are unbelievable."
"he's unbelievable," you snapped immediately, a faint flush covering your face and neck.
sunoo hummed, clearly unconvinced. he was your best friend since elementary school, he knew exactly what this was.
the hallway buzzed with students moving between lectures while rain hammered softly against the windows lining the corridor. you shoved through the doors toward the outside courtyard, irritation simmering hotter with every passing second.
"i genuinely cannot wait until i graduate," you muttered. "the second i get my degree i'm never seeing that freak again."
sunoo snorted, looking at your pink tinted cheeks with a grin. "you still have two years left."
your eye twitched at the realization.
right.
two more years.
two more years of literature classes and discussion boards and seeing park sunghoon sitting three rows ahead of you looking annoyingly composed all the time.
you groaned dramatically. "i can't do this anymore."
sunoo bumped your shoulder lightly. "you've survived two years already."
"barely."
the more you thought about him, the angrier you got.
because sunghoon was the exact type of person that's easy to hate.
too calm. too smug. too aware of how intelligent he was.
and worst of all—too attractive for absolutely no reason.
everything about him irritated you.
his stupid perfect smile whenever he thought he'd won an argument. his stupidly long fingers tapping against his desk during lectures. the way his hoodies stretched across his broad shoulders.
the fact that he somehow looked composed even when everyone else looked exhausted during midterms.
it was deeply, deeply annoying.
you physically smacked yourself in the forehead.
sunoo blinked at your sudden outburst. "what was that for?"
"nothing."
sunoo narrowed his eyes. then slowly—dangerously—he smiled. "oh my god."
you frowned immediately, not liking the way he was smiling down at you. "what."
"i think you might be the issue."
you stopped walking so abruptly someone nearly walked into your shoulder. "excuse me?"
sunoo shrugged innocently. "i'm just saying."
"how the hell am i the issue?"
"you do start a lot of the arguments."
you stared at him in betrayal. "because he says ridiculous things."
"sometimes."
"all the time."
sunoo hummed thoughtfully, not agreeing, which was offensive. why is your best friend not blindly supporting you even when you're probably wrong, which you aren't, but even if you were—the fuck?
you scoffed loudly. "sunghoon is literally the one who started this whole thing."
and he had, freshman year. first semester.
he'd corrected one of your points during a class discussion with that calm, mildly condescending tone of his and something inside you had immediately gone: absolutely not.
listen you can take criticism, just not from that man specifically.
ever since then, every interaction between you had turned into some kind of competition. you couldn't help it. sunghoon always acted so composed, so polished, so annoyingly perfect that it made you want to knock him down a level, or several.
sunoo shoved his hands into his pockets. "okay but maybe if you stopped interacting with him—"
"impossible."
"you didn't even let me finish."
"because you're wrong."
sunoo laughed softly, knowing damn well that nothing he was going to say would penetrate through your thick skull. "you could just ignore him."
you looked at him like he'd suggested murder.
ignore park sunghoon? absolutely not.
that sounded suspiciously like losing. sunoo noticed your expression immediately and burst out laughing. "see? that's exactly what i mean."
you crossed your arms. "i am not the problem here."
sunoo just gave you a look. one of those deeply irritating best friend looks that implied he knew you better than you knew yourself.
which, unfortunately, he probably did.
you pulled your phone out of your pocket causing sunoo to raise a brow.
"what are you doing?"
"i'm getting unbiased opinions."
"from who?"
you opened reddit with complete confidence and sunoo immediately groaned.
"oh no."
˙𐃷˙
your dorm room was suspiciously quiet except for the aggressive tapping of your keyboard.
sunoo sat cross-legged at the end of your bed eating gummy bears straight from the bag while watching you with the exact same expression people have witnessing a public breakup.
concern mixed with entertainment.
you ignored him. because right now you were busy crafting the most objectively accurate reddit post ever written.
the glow from your laptop lit your face as you reread the title for the fifth time.
AITA for telling a guy in my class to shut up because he thinks he's always right?
perfect. concise. truthful.
you cracked your knuckles dramatically before continuing to type. sunoo snorted from the other side, picking out all the red gummies before stuffing them into his mouth.
-
there's this guy in one of my university classes and he is genuinely one of the most irritating people i've ever met.
he's quiet but in a pretentious way? like he thinks being emotionally constipated makes him intelligent. he corrects EVERYONE during discussions and somehow always sounds smug even when he's technically being polite.
the worst part is that he's annoyingly good at everything. presentations? perfect. essays? perfect. participation? professor's favourite somehow.
one time i got a question wrong during class and this man literally smirked at me. SMIRKED. like a disney villain.
today we got into an argument during lecture because he was saying some pseudo intellectual nonsense and i told him to shut up because nobody cares about his superiority complex anymore.
now some people are saying i overreacted but i genuinely think he needed to be humbled.
AITA?
-
you hit post.
then immediately grabbed your phone while bouncing slightly in your seat.
sunoo stared at you with mild distaste. "you look like you just launched a cyber attack."
"i'm right and soon the public will confirm it."
sunoo snorted. "you're insane."
the first comment appeared almost instantly.
you gasped dramatically. "OH MY GOD." sunoo leaned over slightly as you opened it, rolling his eyes as soon as he read the first word.
-
NTA
this guy sounds like if a philosophy podcast became a person.
-
you slapped sunoo's arm excitedly."SEE?"
another comment appeared.
-
girl stand UP. why are you letting a man who's probably named after a victorian disease humble you in public
-
you folded over laughing, sunghoon was a disease alright. a disease that would rot and corrupt your brain before leading you to your own destruction.
sunoo grabbed your laptop before you dropped it off the bed. "okay that one was funny."
more comments flooded in rapidly and sunoo watched as your expression morphed into one of pure joy. like a kid who had just walked into a candy shop with an unlimited budget and no parental supervision.
-
NTA
he sounds insufferable.
-
ESH
you both sound annoying but in a sexual tension way.
-
you frowned, "what does that even mean?"
sunoo looked away suspiciously fast, hiding his smirk.
another one.
-
i know EXACTLY the type of man you're talking about. probably wears silver jewelry and thinks eye contact is a personality trait.
-
your jaw dropped. "THEY GET ME."
sunoo popped another gummy bear into his mouth, eyeing you. "or maybe you're describing every business major ever."
you ignored him because the comments were getting better by the second.
-
does he perchance look like this:
🗿
-
"OH MY GOD." he totally does.
-
girl he likes you.
⤷
no literally this sounds like academic enemies to lovers fanfiction.
-
"okay why does everyone keep saying that," you muttered, a deep frown now etched on your face. you were beginning to not like where these comments were headed.
sunoo made a noncommittal noise. you narrowed your eyes at him briefly before scrolling again.
-
i'm crying at "emotionally constipated." please cook him again.
-
next class hit him with "you're not beating the pretentious allegations."
-
ask him if he learned emotional intelligence from patrick bateman edits and sigma bro podcasts lol.
-
you physically wheezed, your body folding over in laughter. sunoo shook his head slowly, watching you upvote every single comment that dissed sunghoon.
"you're enjoying this way too much."
"because i'm finally being validated."
you pointed accusingly at him. "unlike SOME people."
sunoo rolled his eyes before muttering, "whatever bitch."
another comment appeared.
-
INFO: is he actually arrogant or are you just threatened because he's smarter than you?
-
your smile vanished instantly. "BOOOOO."
you downvoted it immediately, sunoo burst out laughing. "you are NOT supposed to interact emotionally with the comments."
"they interacted emotionally with ME first."
you kept scrolling, feeling increasingly euphoric as strangers across the internet continued confirming what you'd known all along: park sunghoon was deeply irritating.
the comments only got more ridiculous from there.
-
"he smirked at you after you got a question wrong" oh huny he wants you BAD.
-
this sounds less like hatred and more like unresolved yearning.
-
enemies to lovers ahh post.
-
"unresolved yearning?" you repeated aloud in horror.
oh fuck no.
sunoo was smiling now. not laughing. no no, he was smiling.
which was somehow worse, you turned your head slowly to shoot him a glare, "what."
he shrugged. "nothing."
you narrowed your eyes suspiciously then looked back at your screen.
another comment. this one longer.
-
honestly i think you're leaving out context. from your own description, it sounds like he was trying to engage in discussion normally and you took it personally because you already dislike him.
-
your smile faltered slightly.
who the fuck was this? and why the fuck do they think they know the situation?
the comment continued:
-
correcting people during literary discussions isn't arrogance if he's contributing meaningful analysis. also, calling someone "emotionally constipated" because they interpret a book differently than you is kind of ironic.
-
you scoffed loudly. "OH BROTHER." get a load of this guy, why don't they just go and suck sunghoon's dick at this point.
sunoo leaned closer, reading the comment out loud "wait that one kinda—"
"no."
you clicked reply immediately, your fingers flying across the keyboard.
-
if you defend people like this i just KNOW nobody likes you in real life.
-
sunoo let out a disbelieving laugh. "you're fighting civilians now?"
"they started it."
your reply posted and within less than thirty seconds—
the person responded.
-
bold assumption coming from someone who wrote an entire essay about a classmate because he annoyed her.
-
you froze and slowly sat up straighter. you felt your face tense in what you can only identify as pure raw anger.
sunoo noticed instantly when your face went from. mildly annoyed to baboon ass red. "what."
your eyes narrowed at the screen. something about the reply irritated you immediately. the tone. calm. slightly condescending. annoyingly articulate.
...absolutely not. no way.
you started typing again with renewed aggression. you stared at the username with pure hatred.
notniceprince02
your eye twitched, something about it already annoyed you. the reply sat there on your screen like a personal attack.
calm and smug. condescending in a weirdly articulate way that made you want to throw your laptop across the room.
sunoo leaned closer from beside you. "what happened?"
you pointed aggressively at the screen. "this person thinks i'm the problem."
sunoo made a face. "well..."
you slowly turned toward him eyes like slits and your mouth scrunched. "choose your next words carefully."
sunoo immediately looked back down at his gummy bears.
fucking coward.
you cracked your fingers dramatically before typing a response.
-
sorry i didn't realize his defense attorney was in the comments section. should i call you next time he starts acting like a rejected sherlock holmes adaptation?
-
you hit reply with satisfaction, finally letting out the breath of anger you had taken earlier,
sunoo blinked. "you type like you're in a duel."
"because i am."
less than a minute later—another response.
-
maybe people correct you often because you're wrong often.
-
you gasped so loudly sunoo nearly dropped the gummy bear bag. "OH this bitch."
you didn't know who this person was but you are not the one to be fucked with like this. your fingers flew over the keyboard with new found passion.
-
and maybe you defend emotionally detached weirdos online because you see yourself in him.
-
reply posted and the response came back almost immediately.
-
emotionally detached = calm
emotional instability = writing reddit essays because a guy disagreed with you in class
-
sunoo physically leaned forward now the gummy bears had been abandoned.
"okay wait," he said slowly. "this is getting good."
you ignored him, mostly because your blood pressure was rising.
-
if being calm means acting like a pretentious AI generated philosophy quote then congratulations i guess.
-
reply and instant response.
-
if being intelligent sounds pretentious to you that might be a personal issue.
-
your jaw dropped. "PERSONAL ISSUE?"
sunoo was trying not to laugh, badly. you glared at him before pushing at his shoulder hard enough to have him almost fall of your bed. unlucky for you, he managed to catch his balance and stay seated next to you with a dumb grin on his face.
"i'm sorry but they kinda cooked you there."
"whose side are you on?" fucking twink.
"the entertainment's."
traitor.
you sat up straighter on the bed, narrowing your eyes at the screen like notniceprince02 had personally wronged your entire bloodline.
-
you sound exactly like the guy i'm talking about btw. same superiority complex. same "i think i'm the smartest person in every room" energy.
-
the response appeared almost immediately, which somehow irritated you more. did this person have no life? fighting with strangers on the internet like a loser.
this doesn't apply to you of course.
-
maybe you're just intimidated by people who challenge you intellectually.
-
you stared at the screen in disbelief.
sunoo let out a quiet whistle. "they hit a nerve?"
"i'm going to hit THEM."
you typed furiously, your thumbs cramping up but you don't let weak things like this stop you.
-
intellectually challenge me? please. this man raises his hand in class like he's announcing a new world order then says the most pseudo intellectual nonsense you've ever heard.
-
response.
-
interesting. you seem to remember his class participation very vividly.
-
you froze for like half a second and then scoffed loudly.
because it's TRAUMATIZING. not because you care enough to remember, but because it's shocked itself into the crevices of your brain.
sunoo snorted while you kept going.
-
he literally smirks when people get answers wrong. do you know how deeply punchable that is?
-
response.
-
maybe he smirks because your reactions are dramatic.
-
you narrowed your eyes dangerously. this conversation, more like argument, felt more natural that you'd like to admit.
-
okay now i KNOW you're him.
-
sunoo's brows shot up immediately. hold on...
you pointed at the screen frantically. "LOOK AT HOW HE TYPES."
sunoo leaned closer, the two of you stared silently at the replies for a moment. then—sunoo slowly looked at you. "that actually does sound like him."
"THANK YOU." validation surged through your body instantly. you pointed aggressively at the laptop. "RIGHT? the annoying calmness? the fake intellectual wording? the superiority complex?"
sunoo tilted his head, a shit eating grin plastered on his porcelain face. "you know him disturbingly well."
"unfortunately."
another reply appeared.
-
i think it's funny how much attention you pay to someone you supposedly dislike.
-
you barked out a laugh, completely humorless.
-
oh my god. you ARE him.
-
response.
-
and if i was?
-
you sat there, staring. sunoo sat there too, also staring.
the room suddenly felt strangely quiet as you squinted at the screen.
"why did that make me mad."
sunoo was smiling again, that knowing smile. you hated that smile.
"because you think it might actually be him."
"it's not him."
"mhm."
"it's just some annoying reddit user." another response appeared before you could keep ranting.
-
for the record, if this guy really is as arrogant as you claim, why do you keep engaging with him?
-
you rolled your eyes instantly.
-
because someone has to humble him.
-
reply.
-
sounds more like obsession.
-
you gasped, like actually gasped. you? obsessed with sunghoon? out of all the people in this world? fuck no.
sunoo folded over laughing. "OH MY GOD."
"OBSESSION?" you typed so aggressively the keyboard started clacking violently.
-
you people see a man and woman arguing and immediately think there's romantic tension. have you considered that i simply think he's irritating and unfortunate-looking?
-
sunoo looked at you, slowly. "unfortunate-looking?"
you avoided eye contact because unfortunately that part wasn't true. at all. which was deeply annoying. you hated how you couldn't get away with dissing his appearance because as much as you hate to admit it, there was nothing to pick at.
another reply.
-
unfortunate-looking yet you described his facial expressions in detail.
-
you froze. sunoo froze. your eyes slowly widened as you stared at sunoo who looked equally as surprised as you.
"..."
sunoo pointed at the screen. "THAT IS ABSOLUTELY HIM."
"SHUT UP."
˙𐃷˙
by the next morning, your hatred for user notniceprince02 had evolved into something genuinely concerning.
your phone had been vibrating nonstop since eight in the morning.
every. two. seconds.
ping.
ping.
PING.
another reply. another argument. another smug paragraph typed in that calm, annoyingly articulate tone that made your blood pressure spike on sight.
you sat in the student lounge with your laptop open and your phone in your hand simultaneously, responding across two devices like a woman fighting in active warfare.
sunoo sat across from you, fully invested now. having the thread opened on his laptop as he watched you type out responses like it was war.
classes? irrelevant.
education? secondary.
this reddit argument had become the main event.
"you've replied to him thirty-seven times just in this past hour " sunoo said.
"thirty-eight." you hit send aggressively and sunoo blinked in pure shock.
"that was immediate."
"because he's wrong." your phone buzzed again and you looked down instantly.
-
notniceprince02:
"you keep proving my point by reacting emotionally to everything."
-
you scoffed so loudly the two people at the next table glanced over.
"OH my god." your fingers slammed against the keyboard.
-
sorry i forgot being emotionally unavailable is apparently a personality trait now.
-
send.
and would you look at that, a response within seconds.
-
no, but making hating one guy your entire personality definitely is.
-
you stared at the screen with a scowl etched on your face. offended, deeply offended.
sunoo leaned over your shoulder to see you clutching your phone was a grip that would shatter your screen.
then immediately started laughing. "okay no because why does this genuinely sound like sunghoon."
"it's NOT him."
"__."
"it's just some weird sigma male ass kisser who probably listens to podcasts hosted by divorced men."
you ignored him because your phone buzzed again—another reply.
-
you seem weirdly committed to misunderstanding him.
-
you rolled your eyes so hard it physically hurt. at this point you wondered how many people at the library thought something was mentally wrong with you.
-
and you seem weirdly committed to defending him. is this his burner account or are you just in love with him?
-
send.
sunoo nearly choked. "OH?"
"what?"
"you're spiraling."
"i'm WINNING."
sunoo pointed at your screen, a thread of reddit beef that's exceeded an appropriate limit. "this does not look like winning."
you frowned at the ongoing thread. unfortunately, it had become one of the top comments under your post. people were fully invested now with random users jumping into the argument just to spectate.
some were taking sides while others were making it worse, much worse.
-
y'all are literally flirting.
-
this is the most enemies to lovers thing i've ever read.
-
somebody invite me to the wedding.
-
"irl academic rivals is CRAZY."
-
you physically recoiled at the thought of being shipped with that garden troll of a man. "what is WRONG with people?"
sunoo looked way too entertained. "they kinda have a point."
"they absolutely do not."
another comment:
-
at this point just kiss and get it over with.
⤷
i would rather chew denim.
-
you typed immediately, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. this was the last thing you had expected as an outcome when you posted on reddit.
sunoo burst out laughing. "chew denim?"
"i'm emotional."
your phone buzzed again.
-
notniceprince02:
"that's dramatic."
-
your eye twitched as you read the message out loud. "HE KEEPS SAYING THAT." people had now physically turned on their seats to look at the two of you with curious and annoyed looks in their eyes.
sunoo pointed accusingly at you while gives others a apologetic smile. "because you ARE dramatic." he whispered to you harshly all while motioning you to shut the fuck up.
"you're both against me."
"no," sunoo corrected. "i just think this is the funniest thing that's happened all semester."
you glared at him before standing abruptly, grabbing your phone. "i'm going to the washroom."
if sunoo wasn't going to appreciate this properly, then some girl in the stall next to you will. sunoo hummed absently. "tell your boyfriend i said hi if he replies again."
"die."
you walked off before he could keep talking.
the hallways buzzed with students moving between lectures, conversations overlapping with the sound of footsteps and lockers shutting nearby.
your phone buzzed again and without looking up, you immediately started typing.
-
no, because at this point you're defending him like you want him carnally.
-
send.
you turned the corner toward the washrooms—and slammed directly into someone.
hard.
your shoulder collided with a solid chest and your phone nearly flew out of your hand.
"shit—"
steady hands caught your arms before you stumbled backward. familiar hands. long fingers curling briefly around your sleeves.
your stomach dropped instantly, because of course.
of fucking COURSE.
park sunghoon looked down at you with mild surprise, dark hair slightly messy like he'd been running his hands through it all morning. a pair of headphones rested around his neck, black hoodie sleeves pushed to his forearms.
and unfortunately—unfairly—he looked really good today.
which immediately irritated you, because how dare he have a shit personality and look good while ruining your mood by just breathing in your vicinity.
sunghoon glanced at your death grip on your phone before meeting your eyes again, a small smirk playing on his pink plush lips.
"you should probably watch where you're going." his voice was calm, low and slightly amused.
you narrowed your eyes instantly. "maybe people would move if they weren't standing in the middle of hallways like decorative statues."
one corner of his mouth lifted slightly. there it was, that stupid almost-smile. you hated that stupid almost-smile.
sunghoon's gaze flicked downward briefly. to your phone screen which was still open to reddit. your heart stopped for half a second because the thread was visible. very visible. and at the top of the screen sat a fresh notification from—notniceprince02 replied to your comment
sunghoon's eyes lingered on the notification then slowly lifted back to yours.
silence. your brain short-circuited instantly, no. absolutely not. there was no way. sunghoon looked at you for one long second before asking casually, "still fighting with strangers online?"
your entire body went still, just for a second. because there was absolutely no way—no actual way.
sunghoon stood there holding your arm loosely, thumb brushing the fabric of your sleeve while your phone screen glowed between you both like evidence in a criminal investigation.
notniceprince02 replied to your comment.
your brain was buffering. loading. malfunctioning.
sunghoon's expression remained frustratingly neutral but there was something there. something subtle: amusement.
your eyes narrowed immediately. "why are you looking at my phone?"
smooth. good recovery. yup yup.
sunghoon let go of your arm slowly, way too slowly. "hard not to when you almost tackled me with it."
you scoffed, "you were standing in my way."
"you walked directly into me."
"semantics."
sunghoon hummed quietly as his gaze flicked toward your screen again and then back to you.
"so," he said lightly, "what stranger online managed to upset you this badly?"
your grip tightened around your phone instantly. absolutely not. you were NOT about to entertain sunoo's ridiculous theory.
"nobody."
sunghoon raised a brow, "you look homicidal."
"maybe that's just your effect on people." you retorted back almost automatically. you wonder if you've ever responded to sunghoon in a normal way.
that stupid almost-smile appeared again. small and annoyingly attractive. you hated it, like actually hated it.
sunghoon tilted his head slightly. "you know," he murmured, "you get strangely defensive whenever i ask simple questions."
your stomach flipped in irritation, strictly irritation. "and you get strangely nosy for someone who acts emotionally detached all the time."
his eyes held yours for a second longer than necessary, steady and focused. like he was trying to figure something out.
the hallway around you blurred into noise and somehow you were still standing there.
too close to him, way too close.
you noticed stupid things at the worst possible times, like the faint scent of his cologne or the tiny mole near his neck. or the fact that his hair fell into his eyes slightly when he looked down at you like this.
deeply irritating.
sunghoon's gaze flicked briefly toward your mouth before returning upward so quickly you almost thought you imagined it.
almost.
"what?" you snapped immediately. you could feel a small flush cover your cheeks and neck at the thought of sunghoon sneaking glances at your lips. maybe he thought you looked really slapable right now, or really kissable. it hurt your ego to think that either one of those things were deemed acceptable to you.
his brows lifted slightly. "nothing."
liar.
you narrowed your eyes harder. "you're being weird."
"you say that every time you don't know how to respond."
your jaw dropped at his audacity. "i always know how to respond."
"mhm."
that stupid calm tone again. you wanted to bite him. which—bad wording. very bad wording.
sunghoon watched your expression shift in real time and something in his face changed slightly. like he noticed the exact moment your thoughts betrayed you.
horrifying. absolutely horrifying.
you recovered immediately, sort of. "why are you even talking to me right now?" you asked. "don't you have some freshmen discussion group to intellectually terrorize?"
sunghoon laughed quietly under his breath—actually laughed. and it caught you so off guard that you momentarily forgot to stay angry.
which made you angrier. "you're the one who ran into me."
"unfortunately."
"yet you're still standing here."
you opened your mouth then closed it. sunghoon noticed, of course he noticed. the only thing he doesn't seem to notice is his mouth opening and closing with cow noises spilling out during class.
the corner of his mouth twitched again. "that's new," he said softly.
"what is?"
"you being speechless." your face heated instantly, not because of him.
obviously.
you crossed your arms defensively. "you're unbelievably annoying."
"and yet," sunghoon said calmly, stepping slightly closer, "you keep talking to me."
your heartbeat stumbled. just once. which was unacceptable.
because now he was close enough that you could see every tiny detail in his expression—the faint curve of amusement in his eyes, the way his lips kept threatening to smile fully.
he looked way too pleased with himself. you hated that too. a group of students walked past nearby and one of them whispered: "there's no way they're not dating."
you whipped your head around instantly. "WE'RE NOT—"
sunghoon's hand suddenly landed lightly against the wall beside your head. not trapping you, but enough to make your words catch awkwardly in your throat.
his expression remained perfectly calm which somehow made the gesture worse. "you're loud when you're flustered," he said quietly.
your brain short-circuited. flustered? FLUSTERED?
you stared at him in disbelief. "i am not flustered."
sunghoon hummed, completely unconvinced as he reached into his pocket to slip out his phone. your pulse was going insane now for reasons you refused to examine.
then—your phone buzzed loudly between you both.
the notification lit up the screen and your head snapped down, unlocking your phone to see something that only made your heart drop to your gut.
-
notniceprince02:
"you still haven't answered my question."
-
silence.
sunghoon looked down at the notification then slowly back up at you. and this time—this time he smiled properly.
small. sharp. dangerous.
your stomach dropped straight to hell. because suddenly—suddenly you knew.
oh my god.
it WAS him.
your soul briefly left your body. there was no other explanation for the horrifying full-body shutdown you experienced standing there in the middle of the hallway.
because park sunghoon was smiling at you. actually smiling. not the tiny smug almost-smirk he usually wore during arguments.
a real smile. sharp at the edges. dangerously entertained. and your phone was still glowing between you both with the notification from: notniceprince02
oh my god. OH my god.
you stared at him, sunghoon stared back. this fucker was playing with you this entire time and he had the audacity to look calm, composed and completely evil all at the same time.
your voice came out accusing immediately. "you're insane." sunghoon's smile widened slightly. which honestly should've been illegal because why did he suddenly look—no.
absolutely not.
"that's a strong reaction," he said mildly.
"you've been fighting with me online for like fourteen hours."
"thirteen, actually."
you blinked up at him, horrified.
sunghoon tilted his head slightly. "you stopped replying around three in the morning."
your jaw physically dropped. "YOU KEPT TRACK?"
"you type aggressively when you're tired."
you looked genuinely offended. "that is such a weird thing to notice."
"you notice weird things about me too."
silence. dangerous silence. because unfortunately—unfortunately he was right. and judging by the look on his face? he knew he was right too.
you recovered immediately or at least attempted to. "okay first of all," you started, pointing at him aggressively, "using a burner account to argue with me on reddit is psychotic behavior."
sunghoon crossed his arms loosely still way too relaxed. "you made an entire public post about me."
"i didn't SAY your name."
"you described me like a wanted criminal."
"because you're irritating."
"it was weirdly detailed."
your eye twitched. "you're unbelievable."
sunghoon leaned slightly closer, close enough that your stupid heart started acting weird again. "you wrote three paragraphs about my facial expressions."
heat crawled up your neck instantly. because in hindsight—mentioning the smirking might've been a mistake.
"that was for CONTEXT."
sunghoon hummed not buying it for a second. "right....right"
you hated how calm he sounded. like this entire situation entertained him more than anything else. which made sense, considering the man apparently spent his free time anonymously provoking you online.
actual freak behavior.
"and YOU," you shot back, "were defending yourself in the comments like a loser."
sunghoon's brows lifted. "i was defending myself because you compared me to a podcast for divorced men."
"because you talk like one."
"you literally accused me of wanting attention 'carnally.'" your face heated instantly, sunghoon looked way too pleased saying that out loud. "that was BEFORE i knew it was you."
"does that make it better?"
"a little."
his mouth twitched again. you wanted to throw him into traffic. respectfully.
sunghoon glanced down at your phone screen where the reddit thread was still open. hundreds of notifications flooded the post now. people were still replying, still arguing and still shipping you both for reasons you refused to acknowledge.
sunghoon read one of the comments over your shoulder, then laughed quietly. "someone said we have 'academic rivals to lovers tension.'"
you looked horrified, shooting him a quick glare before downvoting on the comment. "don't read those."
"why not?" he asked lightly. "they seem passionate about us."
"there is no 'us.'" you snapped back.
sunghoon's gaze flicked back to yours, steady—focused.
"you sure?"
your stomach dropped. hard. something about the way he said it felt unfairly intentional. like he knew exactly what he was doing now. which—he probably did.
you crossed your arms tighter, defensive. "you're enjoying this way too much."
"you started it."
"you kept replying."
"so did you."
"because i don't lose arguments."
sunghoon stepped closer again, just slightly. enough that your back nearly brushed the wall behind you.
"is that what this is?" he asked softly.
you frowned. "what."
"you needing to win." his voice had gotten quieter somehow, lower and suddenly the hallway noise around you felt distant again.
students walked past constantly but it barely registered.
because sunghoon was standing too close and looking at you like he'd figured something out.
you swallowed once, annoyed at yourself for even noticing. "obviously," you replied.
sunghoon watched you for another second. then, "i think you just like arguing with me."
you let out a disbelieving laugh immediately. "that is genuinely the dumbest thing you've ever said."
"is it?"
"yes."
"then why do you always look excited before you disagree with me?"
your mouth opened. closed. opened again. nothing came out. because that was—that was not the point. like fuck, you caught me i guess.
sunghoon noticed your silence instantly, of course he did. his expression shifted into something smugger and more dangerous. "there it is again."
"what."
"speechless."
you hated him, like actually hated him. especially because he looked so unfairly good right now standing there with messy dark hair and that stupid smug expression like he'd won something.
you narrowed your eyes. "you know what? maybe people only think you're smart because you say things confidently."
sunghoon leaned one shoulder casually against the wall beside you. completely cornering you now without actually touching you.
"maybe," he said calmly, "you only argue with me because i'm the only person who argues back."
your heartbeat betrayed you again. you stared at him, sunghoon stared back. then—your phone buzzed loudly again between you both.
another reddit notification, sunghoon glanced down before taking your phone into his own hands then read aloud: "'just kiss already and save us all the trouble.'"
you lunged for your phone instantly. "give me that."
sunghoon lifted it out of reach easily and your eyes widened. "park sunghoon."
he looked down at you with blatant amusement. "that's the first time you've said my full name without sounding homicidal."
"i AM homicidal."
"mhm."
you reached for your phone again, sunghoon caught your wrist lightly before you could grab it. everything stopped. your breath. your thoughts. your functioning nervous system.
his fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist, warm and firm. and suddenly you became painfully aware of how close he actually was.
sunghoon looked down briefly at where he was holding you and then back at your face. his expression changed slightly, less teasing and more—dangerous.
your pulse went absolutely insane. then quietly—way too quietly—he said, "you know... you're a lot less mean when you're flustered."
your brain completely stopped functioning. like genuinely. because park sunghoon was still holding your wrist, still standing way too close, still looking at you with that horribly calm expression while your pulse was actively trying to kill you.
and the worst part? he knew. you could tell he knew. his thumb shifted slightly against your wrist and your stomach flipped so violently it made you angry.
sunghoon's eyes flicked briefly to your mouth again. then back up, slowly and deliberately.
"you know," he murmured, "the comments might be onto something."
your brows furrowed instantly. "what comments."
his mouth twitched. "'just kiss already and save us all the trouble.'"
you stared at him in disbelief. "absolutely not."
"why not?"
"because i'd rather die."
sunghoon hummed thoughtfully. "dramatic."
"you make me dramatic." that slipped out before you could stop it, the silence was thick.
sunghoon's expression shifted almost imperceptibly. something darker settling beneath the amusement. your face heated instantly. great. excellent. love that for you.
you tried pulling your wrist back but he didn't let go. not fully, he just loosened his grip slightly. enough to remind you he could let go if he wanted to, but wasn't.
"you know what i think?" he asked quietly.
"i don't care."
"i think you enjoy this."
you scoffed immediately. "arguing with you is psychologically damaging."
"yet you keep doing it."
"because someone needs to humble you."
sunghoon smiled slowly, that smile should've come with a warning label. "you've been saying that for two years, i don't think you're making much progress, __."
your stomach twisted, you hated how softly he said it. like he'd been thinking about it too, absolutely disgusting.
you crossed your arms tighter, or tried to. hard to look intimidating when he still had your wrist trapped loosely in his hand. "you're weirdly obsessed with me for someone who acts emotionally detached all the time."
sunghoon tilted his head slightly. "says the girl who wrote a public essay about me." at this point the both of you were repeating yourselves for the nth time, none of you progressing anywhere.
"because you're irritating."
"and handsome?"
you nearly choked. "WHEN did i say that?"
"you didn't have to."
you looked genuinely appalled, sunghoon laughed quietly under his breath. the sound went straight through you in the most irritating way imaginable.
you hated that too, everything about him irritated you. his stupid voice, his stupid face, his stupidly long fingers still wrapped around your wrist.
"you're insufferable."
"you like that word."
"because it applies to you constantly." you say sweetly, batting your eyelashes in the most dramatic way you could possibly pull off.
sunghoon leaned closer, close enough that your back finally brushed against the wall behind you.
you swallowed hard, annoyed. deeply annoyed.
"you know," he said softly, "for someone who claims to hate me, you stare at me a lot."
your jaw dropped. "you stare at ME."
"because you're loud."
"and you're annoying."
"yet here we are."
your heart was beating so hard you were convinced he could hear it. which was humiliating, especially because he looked entirely unaffected.
calm. steady. composed. which is what his heart monitor would read after you ran him over with your car. you wanted to ruin that composure so badly. sunghoon's gaze dropped to your mouth again, this time slower and less subtle. your breathing hitched involuntarily and that smug bastard noticed immediately.
his eyes darkened slightly. "there it is," he murmured.
"what."
"that look."
"what look?"
sunghoon smiled faintly. "the one you get before you start losing an argument."
you pushed against his shoulder instantly, hard. or at least hard enough to make a point but sunghoon barely moved. which only irritated you more. "i never lose."
"sure."
"i'm serious."
"mhm."
you glared at him, sunghoon stared back. then quietly—
way too calmly—he said, "maybe we should give people what they want."
your stomach dropped. "what."
his fingers tightened slightly around your wrist before he stepped closer again, completely boxing you in now.
"the comments seem very invested in us."
"there is no 'us.'" you repeated for the nth time.
"you keep saying that."
"because it's true."
sunghoon looked at you for one long second, then his voice dropped lower, dangerously soft. "then how about we start with the kiss?"
your brain short-circuited so violently you physically stopped breathing. "excuse me?"
sunghoon's expression remained infuriatingly calm. but his eyes—his eyes looked anything but calm now. "you heard me."
heat exploded across your face instantly. "you are OUT of your mind."
"probably."
"i would never kiss you."
sunghoon leaned down slightly, close enough that his voice brushed against your skin. "you keep saying things your body language disagrees with."
your stomach flipped violently. you hated him, because he sounded so certain, so unfairly confident. you opened your mouth to argue again but footsteps echoed nearby and a group of students rounded the corner laughing loudly.
both of you glanced over instinctively, the moment broke slightly. just enough, except sunghoon didn't move away. instead, his gaze flicked briefly down the hall toward the nearby family washroom.
then back to you and your pulse spiked instantly. "sunghoon—"
before you could finish, he tugged lightly on your wrist.
your breath caught as he pulled you forward down the hall.
"what are you DOING?"
sunghoon glanced back at you once, that same dangerous almost-smile pulling at his mouth.
"proving a point."
your stomach dropped straight to hell. your sneakers squeaked slightly against the floor as sunghoon pulled you down the hallway.
not fast enough to look suspicious, which somehow made it worse. his hand stayed wrapped around your wrist the entire time—warm, firm, steady—like he already knew you wouldn't actually pull away.
which was irritating, deeply irritating. "park sunghoon—"
"you say my full name a lot when you're nervous."
"i'm not nervous." he glanced back at you briefly, that smug look again.
"sure."
you swore out his entire bloodline at this moment as your heart was currently beating like you'd just sprinted across campus. sunghoon stopped outside the family washroom and pushed the door open casually before looking back at you expectantly.
your eyes widened immediately. "oh my god."
"what?"
"you're insane."
"you've said that already."
"because you keep proving it."
sunghoon's mouth twitched then he gently tugged your wrist again. you should've walked away, seriously. you should've told him to go to hell and left immediately.
instead—you followed him inside. which honestly felt like a personal failure.
the door clicked shut behind you.
the washroom was too bright and too small. and now sunghoon was standing directly in front of you with nowhere to escape to, hoodie sleeves pushed up his forearms and dark hair slightly falling into his eyes.
you became painfully aware of every inch of space between you both, which unfortunately (fortunately) wasn't much.
your pulse went insane. sunghoon leaned back lightly against the sink counter, still watching you with that same unreadable expression. except now there was something sharper underneath it, something heated.
you crossed your arms immediately, defensive. "if you murder me in here i'm haunting you."
sunghoon laughed quietly, the sound bounced softly off the tiled walls. "you think i'd need to drag you into a bathroom to kill you?"
"probably not. you'd do it in a psychologically manipulative way."
"interesting that you've thought about it."
"i think about punching you constantly."
sunghoon hummed. "violent."
"you bring it out in me."
his gaze held yours for a second too long. then, "i know."
your stomach flipped, you hated how low his voice sounded in here. hated how every tiny expression felt amplified now that you were alone. you needed to regain control of this conversation immediately.
"so what exactly was your master plan here?" you asked. "corner me in a public washroom and continue being annoying?"
sunghoon tilted his head slightly. "you came willingly."
well, he got you there. "against my better judgment."
"yet still willingly."
you rolled your eyes aggressively. "you're obsessed with having the last word."
"that's rich coming from you."
"i'm right most of the time." sunghoon smiled slowly, there it was again. that stupid smile that made you irrationally aware of how attractive he was.
you hated that too, everything about him was annoying.
the way he stood, the way he talked. the way his hands and forearms looked resting against the sink behind him—okay.
you needed to stop thinking immediately. sunghoon noticed your brief lapse in concentration. his eyes narrowed slightly, amused.
"what happened?" he asked softly. "lost your train of thought?"
"i'm deciding how much jail time i'd get for assault." good cover up!
"probably less if you looked this cute during the mugshot."
your brain completely blue-screened, you stared at him.
sunghoon stared back. completely calm after saying the most insane thing imaginable.
"you—" nothing, your thoughts evaporated.
sunghoon pushed off the sink slowly, one step closer.
then another. your back instinctively hit the door behind you.
oh my god.
"what?" he asked quietly. you swallowed hard, annoyed at yourself.
"you can't just say things like that."
"why not?"
"because it's weird."
"you're flustered again."
"I AM NOT FLUSTERED."
sunghoon looked down at you for a long second then his gaze flicked to your mouth again. slowly and deliberately. your stomach twisted so hard it physically hurt and you wondered what would happen if you just threw up your guts onto him. how pretty would he look with a bacon egg and cheese splashed onto him?
"you know," he murmured, "for someone who claims to hate me, you let me get very close to you."
"you cornered me." you snap.
"you could move." you opened your mouth then closed it. because—well technically. he wasn't wrong. you absolutely could move, but instead you stayed exactly where you were.
sunghoon noticed immediately, that smug look returned. "there it is."
"stop saying that."
"then stop proving me right."
you glared at him, he stared back. neither of you moved.
the tension in the room felt ridiculous now. thick enough to choke on.
and the worst part? sunghoon still looked calm. slightly amused, even. like he was waiting for you to figure something out.
your phone buzzed loudly in your pocket. both of you glanced downward instinctively. another reddit notification, causing sunghoon laughed softly. "they're probably asking if we kissed yet."
your face heated instantly. "they're delusional."
"mhm."
"stop doing that."
"doing what?"
"looking at me like that."
his brows lifted slightly. "like what?"
you gestured vaguely, frustrated. "like you know something i don't."
sunghoon stepped closer again, barely any space left between you now. his voice dropped lower, quieter.
"maybe i do."
your breath caught, his hand lifted slowly toward your face. you froze up, completely. sunghoon's fingers brushed lightly against your jaw, gentle and careful.
somehow that made it worse. your heartbeat was so loud you were convinced the entire campus could hear it.
sunghoon looked at you for one long second. then quietly—almost teasing—he murmured "still think you'd rather die than kiss me?"
your brain was screaming because park sunghoon's hand was on your jaw right now. his thumb resting lightly against your skin while he looked at you like this —calm on the surface, but with something much more dangerous underneath.
and the worst part? you still hadn't moved away.
your back pressed against the door behind you as your pulse absolutely lost its mind. sunghoon waited patiently for an answer.
that smug bastard. "well?" he murmured softly. you swallowed hard. "you're very confident for someone who uses reddit burner accounts."
the corner of his mouth lifted immediately. there you were, finally talking again.
"deflecting already?"
"i'm not deflecting."
"mhm."
you hated that sound. hated how he kept looking at you like he could see directly through every thought in your head. because right now those thoughts were actively betraying you.
you were suddenly hyperaware of everything, the warmth of his hand, the faint scent of his cologne, the way his hoodie sleeves stretched around his forearms when he shifted closer.
deeply irritating. you narrowed your eyes, trying desperately to regain control of the situation.
"you know what your problem is?"
sunghoon hummed softly, looking down at you with an unreadable glint in his dark eyes. "you think everyone secretly likes you."
"not everyone."
his thumb brushed your jaw slightly as he spoke and your stomach flipped violently.
"just you."
your breath caught embarrassingly fast. sunghoon noticed instantly and his eyes darkened slightly. suddenly the teasing atmosphere shifted into something heavier, quieter.
you hated how good he was at this. "you're unbelievable," you muttered.
"you've said that too."
"because you keep acting insane."
sunghoon leaned down slightly, close enough now that his voice felt warm against your skin.
"you haven't told me to stop."
your brain short-circuited. because—because technically—you hadn't. you opened your mouth immediately. "stop."
sunghoon smiled faintly, but didn't move. "that sounded forced."
you glared at him. "you're annoying."
"and yet you're still here." he kept doing that. kept pointing out things you didn't want to acknowledge.
like the fact that you could absolutely shove him away right now if you wanted to.
except you didn't, which felt like a massive personal failure. your phone buzzed again in your pocket making sunghoon laughed quietly under his breath. "persistent audience."
"they need hobbies."
"says the girl who argued with me online for thirteen hours."
"because you were WRONG."
"about what exactly?"
"everything."
sunghoon's brows lifted slightly. "including the part where you're obviously attracted to me?"
your jaw dropped. silence. violent silence. your entire nervous system shut down. "you—"
nothing came out and sunghoon looked way too pleased with himself. "there it is again."
"if you say 'speechless' one more time i'm calling campus security."
he laughed again, soft and genuine. and it hit you in the chest in the most irritating way imaginable because you'd never heard him laugh like this before.
not during class, not during arguments. this was different, warmer, more relaxed. like he was actually enjoying himself.
you stared at him suspiciously, sunghoon noticed immediately. "what?"
"why are you smiling like that."
"like what?"
"like you're having fun." his gaze held yours for a second, then, "i am."
your stomach twisted again, it felt as if your body was actively betraying you . you looked away first this time, suddenly very interested in the tiled floor beneath you. sunghoon's hand shifted slightly, fingers brushing gently beneath your chin.
guiding your attention back to him and your heart nearly exploded.
"don't do that," you muttered weakly.
"do what?"
"that."
"very descriptive."
you glared at him, or attempted to. hard to look intimidating when your face was hot and your heartbeat sounded like a construction site.
sunghoon studied your expression quietly for a moment.
then smiled slightly, smaller this time and less teasing. "you know what i think?"
"i think you should stop thinking entirely." you spat out weakly.
"i think," he continued calmly ignoring what you just said, "you've spent two years picking fights with me because it's the only time you stop pretending not to care what i think."
your stomach dropped straight to hell you stared at him only to see him look at you with a look you were afraid to identify. and somehow that was worse than the teasing, because he sounded genuine now.
which felt unfair.
you recovered immediately through anger, your favorite defense mechanism.
"oh my god you are SO full of yourself."
"am i wrong?"
"yes."
"then why are you blushing?"
you slapped your hands over your face instantly, and sunghoon actually laughed. fully this time and the sound was so unexpectedly attractive it made you want to walk directly into traffic.
"stop laughing."
"you're cute when you're angry."
"you're making me angrier."
"i know." his voice softened slightly on the last two words, your hands slowly lowered from your face.
sunghoon was still standing impossibly close. still looking at you like he wanted to see what you'd do next.
your heartbeat wouldn't calm down and neither would your thoughts.
and then his gaze dropped to your mouth again, slowly—intentionally.
your breath caught again and sunghoon noticed. again.
his hand slid lightly from your jaw to the side of your neck.
you completely stopped functioning. "sunghoon," you whispered, first name only this time. this was probably the first time in the two years you knew him that you had said his name with such softness.
something shifted in his expression immediately and his eyes darkened. his thumb pressed lightly against your neck.
"yeah?" he murmured.
oh.
oh this was bad.
his thumb pressed gently against the pulse hammering in your throat. that single point of contact felt like a live wire.
"yeah?" he murmured again, his voice dropping into a register you'd never heard, low and rough and utterly dismantling. you had no witty retort, no clever insult. your brain was static, every neuron firing toward the heat of his hand, the dark focus in his eyes.
he saw the surrender you hadn't even voiced. his other hand came up, fingers threading through your hair to cradle the back of your head, and then he was closing the last inch of space.
his mouth was on yours.
it wasn't tentative. it wasn't a question. it was a firm, smooth claim that stole the breath from your lungs and the strength from your knees. his lips moved against yours with a confident pressure that was instantly dizzying. he tasted like mint and something darker, something uniquely him.
a soft, surprised sound escaped you, swallowed immediately by his kiss. he angled your head, deepening it, his tongue sweeping past your lips to tangle with yours.
it was an argument you couldn't win, a debate settled with a devastating, sensual finality. your hands, which had been balled into fists at your sides, came up to clutch at the fabric of his hoodie.
he broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against your swollen lips, "finally." then he was moving again, his body pressing you firmly back against the cool door. you felt your heart pounding in your chest like you had ran a mile, his one word stealing the strength from your legs.
in one fluid, shockingly strong motion, he captured both your wrists in one of his large hands and pinned them above your head. you gasped, a thrill of helplessness shooting straight to your core. his other hand returned to your throat, not squeezing, just holding, a dominant, possessive weight.
"always so loud," he breathed, his lips trailing down your jaw. "so much to say." you could feel the hard, undeniable ridge of his dick pressing against your stomach through both your clothes. the evidence of his desire was a shockwave that made you whimper. he smirked against your skin. "what's wrong? no clever comeback?"
he leaned in again, but instead of kissing you, he hovered. his gaze locked on yours, dark and intense. then he gathered a bit of saliva on his tongue and let it fall, slow and deliberate, past his own lips and onto yours.
the warm, wet intimacy of it made your eyes flutter closed for a second. "open," he commanded softly. dazed, you did. he sealed his mouth over yours again, sharing the wetness, the kiss turning filthy and deep.
you drank him in, your earlier defiance melting into a desperate, aching need. you could feel your underwear stick to you uncomfortably, shifting slighting only to have sunghoon's large body pin you against the door harder. his bulge pushing into your stomach firmer, you could feel him grind against you.
he pulled back, his breathing slightly ragged, and began to mouth down the column of your throat. his teeth scraped lightly, then bit down, not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to make you cry out and arch against him. he soothed the spot with his tongue before sucking hard, leaving a brand you knew would bloom purple.
he admired his work, then the dizzy, wrecked look on your face. "look at you. all that fire, reduced to this."
his free hand slid down, grabbing the hem of your shirt. "all those essays about my emotional incompetence," he said, tugging the fabric up. you shivered as cool air hit your stomach.
"all that time you spent thinking about me." the shirt went over your head, discarded somewhere on the floor. his eyes raked over your bra. "and for what? to end up here."
"you're—you're still insufferable," you managed to pant, even as you pressed your chest toward him—urging him to take it off.
"i know," he said, his fingers deftly finding the clasp of your bra. it came undone. "and you're still obsessed." the bra straps slid down your arms, still trapped in his grasp. he let go of your wrists just long enough to pull the garment away and toss it aside. immediately, his hand returned, clamping back down.
you used your momentary freedom to grab the bottom of his hoodie, pushing it up. he helped, releasing you to yank it and his shirt off in one impatient move.
then he was back on you, skin to searing skin. he was a biter, just as you'd imagined. his mouth latched onto the swell of your breast, teeth grazing your nipple before he sucked it deep.
you cried out, your head thumping back against the door. "if you can do it," you gasped, twisting to reach his shoulder with your mouth. you sank your teeth into the hard muscle there, a retaliatory claim. "then i can too."
"fuck." he groaned, the sound vibrating through your entire body. you think you just gushed and ruined your panties.
a competition of marks began. he left a trail of bruises and blooming red patches down your chest, over your ribs. you reciprocated on his neck, his collarbone, his pectoral, each bite earning a sharper gasp or a low, approving growl from him.
the pain was a bright, sharp pleasure, a physical manifestation of all your tangled, furious energy.
suddenly, he was pushing you down. a firm hand on your shoulder guided you to your knees on the cold tile.
you looked up at him, dazed. he loomed over you, his expression one of dark, predatory amusement. he undid his belt buckle, the click obscenely loud in the small room.
"i wonder," he mused, his voice thick, "how much shit you can talk with your mouth full of me."
he popped the button of his jeans, lowered the zipper. the outline of his cock straining against his boxers made your mouth water. "hands behind your back," he ordered.
you hesitated, glaring up at him. with a frustrated noise, you reached for his waistband. he caught your wrist instantly. "ah-ah." his other hand came up and delivered a firm, almost casual pat against your cheek. it wasn't a hard slap, but it was a stinging, dominant correction that made your eyes widen and your clit throb. "i said, no hands."
swallowing your pride, you leaned forward. you nuzzled against the fabric of his boxers, feeling the hard heat beneath. using your teeth, you caught the elastic waistband and tugged it down, revealing him.
he was thick and fully hard, the tip already glistening. you licked a slow stripe from base to tip, looking up at him through your lashes. his jaw tightened as you took him into your mouth, slowly, relishing the salty, clean taste of him, the way his hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk.
he let you set the pace for a moment, his hands fisting in your hair. "that's it," he breathed, his composure fraying. "all that attitude... fucking gone." you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, until he hit the back of your throat.
you relaxed, letting him slide further, tears pricking your eyes. the rhythm became faster, harder, driven by the soft, choked sounds he was making above you. his grip in your hair tightened, guiding you.
you could feel his hips shudder and his pace falter as he peered down to see his cock disappear in your mouth. he felt his chest swell just at the sight of you, eyes watering and face red.
"gonna cum," he warned, his voice ragged. you didn't pull away. with a sharp, guttural groan, he spilled hot and bitter over your tongue and across your chest, painting stripes over your skin.
he took a second to admire the mess he had made of you, your skin flushed a pretty pink with his cum coating you like icing on a cake.
he pulled you to your feet, his own legs seemingly unsteady. he pushed your pants and panties down in one rough motion, his fingers immediately finding your slick heat.
he pushed your soaked underwear aside, sliding two fingers through your folds. "so wet," he laughed, a dark, triumphant sound. he brought his glistening fingers to your lips. "and for me. after all that."
he turned you around, bending you over the sink. your reflection was a shock—flushed face, bruised lips, hair a mess, his marks covering your skin. he positioned himself behind you, one hand wrapping around your throat again, pulling you back against his chest. the other hand rubbed tight, demanding circles over your clit.
"look," he whispered harshly in your ear, nodding at the mirror. "look at how silly you look. falling apart on my fingers when just hours ago you were calling me a 'rejected sherlock holmes adaptation' on the internet."
the overstimulation was maddening. pleasure coiled tight in your belly.
"the comments... were idiots," you panted, even as you pushed back against his fingers trying to get him to slip them inside your needy weeping hole.
he chuckled, the sound vibrating against your back. "they saw right through you." he pushed a finger inside you, then another, curling them. you gasped, your knees buckling. "admit it. you wanted this every time you picked a fight."
"i wanted to win," you moaned, the words torn from you. he hooked his fingers in you, rubbing your gummy walls while his thumb continued to rub circles against your needy clit.
"you are winning," he breathed, nipping your earlobe. "look at you. you won my full, undivided attention." he removed his fingers, and you felt the blunt, hot pressure of his cock at your entrance.
he pushed in, slowly, inch by devastating inch, filling you completely. the stretch was divine. he held you there, both of you panting, watching in the mirror. he almost came at the sight of your fucked out face, his hands gripping your waist with pressure that would surely bruise.
he began to move, a slow, filthy grind that had you seeing stars. his hand on your throat kept you upright, the other hand sliding around to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. "beg for it," he murmured, his eyes locked on yours in the reflection. "beg me to let you cum."
you didn't answer, trying to avoid his gaze in the mirror only for a particularly rough thrust and his blunt nails digging into your face to swiftly put you back in your place.
"no," you gritted out, even as your body shook.
he spanked you once, hard, on the ass cheek. the sharp sting made you cry out and clench around him. "beg."
"sunghoon—"
another spank. his fingers on your clit became relentless. you were so close, teetering on the edge, but he held you there, his thrusts measured and deep.
"you're so stubborn. just like online. all that typing." he punctuated each word with a thrust. "just. give. in."
the pleasure was a tidal wave, held back by his will alone. you were so overstimulated, so desperate, your pride the only thing left. he leaned forward, his mouth at your ear. "come on, sweetheart. let go. tell me you need it."
as much as it killed you to beg, it also killed you to not cum all over his stupidly thick cock. you could feel the coil in your stomach tighten up as you try to push yourself back to meet his strong and unrelenting thrusts.
sunghoon smirks when he notices your desperation, slowing down on purpose. "c'mon, sweetheart. you don't wanna cum f'me?"
the pet name, the raw need in his own voice, broke you. "please," you sobbed, the word barely audible. "please, sunghoon, let me cum."
"good girl," he purred, and his rhythm became punishing and his fingers began to rub punishingly against your swollen clit. "now."
the orgasm ripped through you, blinding and violent. you screamed, your body convulsing around him as he fucked you through it, his own groans joining yours.
you felt his warm cum flood your cunt as you twitched with the aftershocks of your high. he watched you fall apart in the mirror, his expression one of fierce, possessive satisfaction.
as your spasms began to subside, he slowed, still buried deep inside you. he was breathing heavily against your neck.
he planted soft kisses on your shoulder blade and neck, his dick still in you—twitching. your body trembled slightly, refusing to look into the mirror because then you would see the aftermath of what sunghoon had done to you.
the silence afterward felt strange.
not awkward. not exactly.
just... different.
like something between you had shifted permanently and neither of you quite knew how to deal with it yet.
the fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead while rain tapped faintly against the tiny washroom window. your heart still hadn't calmed down properly, which was deeply irritating considering park sunghoon looked entirely too composed standing in front of you when you had finally found your guts to look.
his dark hair was messy now, lips pink from kissing you. his body was covered in a thin layer of sweat that gave his pale skin a beautiful glow.
which—you immediately looked away.
absolutely not.
sunghoon noticed, of course. he noticed everything.
"you're quiet," he said softly.
you scoffed weakly, body twitching when you feel sunghoon grow hard in you. "this is emotionally traumatic for me."
the corner of his mouth lifted, that stupid almost-smile again. except now it looked softer somehow and less smug.
you attempted to move only for his body to keep you caged between the sink and him. you looked down for a moment to see his cum that had escaped from you dripping down your thigh, a shaky breath leaving your bruised lips.
"don't look at me like that."
"like what?"
"like you just won something, you didn't win shit."
sunghoon leaned back lightly against the door of the washroom eyes still fixed on you. "maybe i did."
your stomach flipped and you frowned immediately, just because you two fucked doesn't mean that you would admit defeat to sunghoon and his annoying antics. "you're so annoying."
"you keep saying that."
"because you keep being annoying."
sunghoon laughed quietly under his breath, shaking his head slightly. the sound hit you straight in the chest in the most irritating way imaginable.
silence settled again for a moment, except this time it didn't feel sharp or tense like your usual arguments.
it felt warm, which was arguably more terrifying.
your eyes narrowed suddenly. "sunoo is never letting me live this down."
sunghoon's smile widened immediately. "he already thought you liked me."
"he's delusional."
"mhm."
you pointed at him instantly. "stop doing that."
"doing what?" he snickers as he finally pulls out, a small whimper escaping your parted lips and sunghoon swears he could cum from that little sound alone.
"that fake calm thing."
"it's not fake."
"that somehow makes it worse."
sunghoon pushed himself off of you before turning you around so your back faced the mirror and stepped closer again.
not cornering you this time, just close enough that your pulse started acting stupid all over again. his gaze dropped briefly to your mouth, then your thighs that were trembling before returning to your eyes.
"so what now?" he asked quietly, his hands coming out to grab on to your hips.
you folded your arms tighter, defensive reflex.
"what do you mean."
"are you still gonna argue with me in class?"
you stared at him like that was the dumbest question ever asked.
"obviously."
sunghoon laughed softly. "figured."
"just because i fucked you doesn't mean your opinions suddenly got better."
"ouch."
"you still sound pretentious."
"and you still interrupt me constantly."
"because you're wrong constantly."
sunghoon shook his head, smiling now. his hand reaching down to push the cum that was trailing down your inner thigh back up—rubbing your swollen cunt with his remnants.
you squeaked out at the feeling, grabbing a hold of his wrist as he watched you with a lazy smile. you hated how much better he looked when he smiled properly.
your phone buzzed loudly against the counter beside you.
then again and again.
you looked down at the endless reddit notifications flooding your screen and groaned dramatically.
"i genuinely hate everyone on that app." sunghoon glanced at your phone before looking back at you, his fingers leaving your cunt to rest back on your hips again much to your dismay.
amusement flickered across his face immediately. "they were pretty accurate though."
"don't start."
"'enemies to lovers' seemed popular."
"they're unemployed."
sunghoon laughed again and you stared at him suspiciously for a second, then narrowed your eyes. "you know this is all your fault."
"interesting argument."
"you replied first."
"you made the post first."
"because you're irritating."
"and yet here you are."
your face heated instantly, sunghoon noticed. his expression softened slightly after that, teasing fading into something quieter.
more careful, he looked at you for a long second close enough that your heartbeat immediately betrayed you again. then, with that same smug little smile returning to his mouth, he tilted his head slightly and murmured, "so."
you narrowed your eyes immediately. "so what."
sunghoon's gaze held yours, steady, amused and dangerously warm.
"do you still think i'm the asshole?"
— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!
⌗ ꒰ 𝒻ujinaga 𝓈akuya x f.reader ꒱ ❤︎ 0.3k, fluff, est. relationship, idol!sakuya, mua!reader, just saku being annoying 😭
⌗ being your boyfriend’s makeup artists had it’s perks, but definitely had it’s downsides too ࿔*:･ﾟ
메시지: short BUT!! quality over quantity riiiight 😄i loooved saku’s otl looks i had to do something
“saku.” your voice whisper-yelled, slowly getting more irritated with your boyfriend. “quit. moving.” you’d been trying attempting to finish up his makeup, but with him squirming around and fake coughing or sneezing, it was impossible. “you go on stage soon, i have to wrap this up now!” you threw your head back in annoyance, letting out a sharp exhale.
“okay, okay.” he giggled, a toothy smile plastered across his face. “i promise i’ll stop.”
taking his word, you resumed working, blending out the blush you powdered on his cheeks. for the next few minutes, you worked without any interruption, finally able to do your job at peace.
until.
just as you swiped lip tint on, he suddenly pouted his lips out at you. a stupid(ly cute) kissy-faced sakuya looking back at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes knowing that he’d just riled you up again.
“babe!” you groaned out in anger, eyebrows knitting together. “seriously, you wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t me.” you sulked, firmly holding his face in place now.
“mmm,” he hummed, waiting for you to be done. “don’t you feel special though? like, you’re the only one who gets this treatment.” he shut his eyes as you sprayed fixing spray over his face, slightly frowning as you did. “do you not?”
“it’s annoying, saku.” a thick sigh escaped your lips as you adjusted the strands of hair that fell out of place. “you’re annoying.” you gently punched his chest, rolling your eyes at him.
“whatever, cutie.” he pinched your cheeks, a smile growing back on his face. “you better get used to it.”
notes: based off of this ask, also im so in love with this taki pic
-- the members heard some... not so innocent things from you and taki last night
taki x fem!reader | wc: 744 | masterlist | fluff, crack, suggestive-ish
warnings: yoo ts corny asl but we move, mentions of sexual intercourse, kissing, language
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the moment taki walked out of his bedroom for a snack, he felt the shift in the air.
he cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how quiet the room had become.
the members who were awake had all stopped what they were doing. conversations died off, breakfast-making was abandoned, and even yuma's nosy self lowered the volume on the television.
taki was confused, utterly confused. "why're you guys acting weird... ?" he asked, voice low as he pulled a water bottle from the fridge, the feeling cooling against his warm skin.
maki stifled a laugh from where he was sat at the dining table. "us? I don't think we're the ones being weird." his voice slightly muffled by the food he was chewing.
taki paused from taking his sip, looking at maki, "what's that supposed to mean?"
his tone was so puzzled it was almost hilarious to everyone else in the room, the question nearly breaking whatever self-control the others had left.
they all made eye contact with each other. "we're just shocked you could be louder than her." nicholas's voice was so quiet that taki nearly missed him.
taki's eyes widened when he realized what he meant, his face flushing as he screwed the cap back on the water bottle. "huh?" he stuttered out, suddenly feeling small under all the eyes.
"c'mon, taki, why're so shy now! you definitely weren't last night." maki slapped him on his back as he walked past him to place his empty plate in the sink, biting his lip from letting out any laughter.
"don't look at me like that. you'd do the same." his voice trailed off at the end, pushing his hair back with his hands.
before maki could say another word, or even anyone else, you walked out of the room. clad in your pajamas and your hair a mess.
your eyes darted across the room, seeing the four boys look at you. suddenly feeling conscious of the way you probably looked, you tried your best to flatten your hair and rub the puffiness off your face.
"morning, guys... " your voice skeptical as their eyes never left you. occasionally switching focus from you to your boyfriend.
you scoff, "I know I look crazy but I don't look disgusting enough to just, like, silence everyone." rolling your eyes you took the water bottle out of taki's hand, sipping from it as the room tightened.
"they said we were too loud... " taki whispered to you. you nearly choke on your water, hearing a giggle from maki who was the closest to you two.
"what the fuck, are you serious." your face emitted pure shock and embarrassment.
yuma, who had been trying to hide behind on the couch, finally let out a small snort. "too loud is an understatement. I think the neighbors three doors down heard you guys."
your face heated up even more, if that was possible. you buried your face in your hands, groaning. "i'm never having sex again." you looked at taki, shoving his shoulder. "this is your fault!"
nicholas shook his head, trying to maintain some semblance of seriousness but ultimately failing as a grin spread across his face. "all I'm saying is, if you're going to be that loud, maybe give us a heads up so we can put on headphones or something."
taki squeezed your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your temple. "they're just jealous," he whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear.
you narrowed your eyes at him, "shut up," you pushed the water bottle back into his hands. "I have to go anyway."
before anyone could respond, maki pointed toward the kitchen.
"weren't you getting breakfast?"
you stared at him for a long moment before letting out a defeated sigh. "kinda lost my appetite here, maki." you huffed out.
taki buried his face in one hand. "let's just move past this now."
maki was the first to rebut. "no way."
the other two boys echoed his words, laughing. nico went to join yuma on the couch, grabbing the remote from him.
you shook your head and headed for the door. "i'm leaving."
"where are you going?" yuma called, turning around again as his arm rested on the head of the couch.
"to get a cheeseburger." you said casually, putting your slippers on by the front door.
"seriously?" maki asked,
you paused dramatically, hand on the doorknob.
"yeah, i mean, all i wanted was a cheeseburger." you answered before walking out.
-- jo hates whenever jealousy consumes him, but you love it.
18+ | jo x fem!reader | wc: 1.2k | masterlist | smut + comfort
warnings: language, kissing, piv, vvvv small spanking, kinda mean!jo, overstim, squirting, mentions of euijoo, no protectionnn but he doesn't cum inside
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
jo never fucks you face down.
you never questioned it—always assuming that he wasn't a fan of the position. thinking he preferred the gentle closeness, the way he could cup your jaw with a featherlight grip to have you face him—brows furrowing when be leaned into the kiss, his mind on overdrive.
he always handled you with such care when the two you had sex. his breathing shaky as he was constantly whimpering out an, "are you alright? what do you need from me?" his warm palms tracing your hips and stomach and waist.
but everything he's doing tonight is completely out of character, and you're doing your best to take advantage of it.
his hands are pressing down on your lower back, practically forcing an arch out of you as your cheek pressed against the freshly cleaned sheets of his.
"fuck, jo," you moan out, your voice rough as your breathed heavy through your mouth. your eyes rolling back as his hips never slowed, slamming into your wet cunt over and over and over.
his grip on your hips vicious, you feel the addicting sting of his fingernails digging into your skin, sure to leave marks. but the way it all felt, you didn't care.
your body twitches involuntarily, your body jerking foward.
he groans, "get back here." he gruffs out, tugging you back to him. he doesn't even sound like your jo anymore.
you feel more juices gush out of you as he roughens. your shaky fingers are digging into the sheets, having nothing else to grip onto.
you feel him pull out, his tip barely kissing the entrance of your cunt. you churn your head around, watching as he stared directly into your pussy. he was regaining himself. he had to, if he didn't, he knows he would've came in seconds.
you laugh, "whats wrong, baby. don't tell me your close already." your voice echoes in his head, he mutters out a curse as he leaned over your body, his chest right against your back.
you groan at the motion, feeling his sweaty, hot chest and rapid heartbeat thumping against your back.
his hand snaked around your body, resting right on your collarbone. "you don't know how hard I'm holding myself back right now." his eyes dark as he stares back at you.
your body slumps, "mmm... i don't know if i believe that." your push your ass flush against his cock, grinding your hips as your hand lowers itself in between your thighs.
drawing your moans as you toy with your clit, your head falling forward and your voice becoming pitchy as you held eye
you could feel the anger bubbling inside him, his eyes darting between your face and your body.
his jaw clenched, "you think this is funny?" his body lifts off of your back. "you're such a fucking brat." he shakes his head, his palm slides down your spine, over the curve of your ass. you're waiting to feel his grip on you there, your hole clenching around nothing.
his hand raises up, hovering right above the skin for half a moment before coming down sharp. the sound cracks im the room as you moan out, the sound erupting from within your chest.
the sting fluttering under your skin, your hips jerking forward as you felt his hand again.
he was thanking all that was holy that you couldn't see him right now, his mind was running wild as his eyes and heartbeat grew frantic.
he never did this to you, always too afraid to mark and dent your delicate skin. he never smushed your face against the sheets or spank you. but he couldn't deny that his cock jumped everytime he did, watching as your eyes rolled back and you gripped on the cotton sheets beneath you.
he knew if you told him to stop, he'd do it in a second.
but not a word as escaped your mouth. he bit his lip hard, poor cock aching for some attention. the head red and leaking, he needed to be back inside of you.
he lines himself up with his other hand, the one on your ass kneading the skin, almost apologetic.
his stills for a beat, rubbing the head in your gushing juices as he listened to the way your squelched, speaking to him. practically begging him.
his cock pushed in, slamming all the way into your tight cunt as it sucked him in. gripping him in a way that made him never want to pull out.
the thick stretch causing a burn between your legs, the most delicipus burn as he never let up. his cock bullying into your gummy pussy, not pausing to check on you.
because he knows. he knows your body so, so well.
and you can tell from the way his thighs slap against your ass, his hands holding onto your hips as he pulled it back against him.
heavy breaths, groans, and moans escaped him. you tried your best to focus on him, but the moment he brought a hand down to rub your clit roughly, so suddenly, you screamed out a moan.
"jo!" your mind completely blanked as your body grew hot. you fell limp against the matress, too weak to hold your body up anymore as sounds escaped you. sounds that don't even sound like you—they're broken, glutteral, desperate.
your walls clamp down on him, spasming around him as you heard him whimper. whimper?
he's holding off his own orgasm, still fucking into you as your body shook beneath him. he groans like it hurts, his hips stuttering as he heard you whine.
"too much, 's too much... i can't jo, fuck." your voice wobbly as tears welled up in your eyes.
fuck. he hates how beautiful you look.
"yes, you can," his long fingers didn't stop even when he slowed his thrusts. your clit throbbing as your hands came up to push his wrist weakly, clearly not working.
you shook your head, head turned as your pleading eyes met him. "y–you're so mean, jo." you pouted, legs shaking as his cock picked up their pace again.
he laughed, laced with amusement. "me? i don't think i was being mean when you pressed your all up against euijoo."
you whine at the memory. "c'mon, I–I wasn't serious!" you pushed out the words, hiccuping as your letters slurred together.
he scoffs, "euijoo thought you were. his face was fucking red and his hand covering his cock when you sat next to him. he's probably jerking off right now," his chest burns as he speaks, a dry chuckle escaping him. "thinking about you, about your body. you like that don't you?" was this really jealousy? he needed this feeling out of him. his mind trying to push the image of his bandmate touching himself to you out of his mind.
you did it all on purpose, of course.
you just wanted to tease your boyfriend, rile him up. and you got that. but you got a completely different jo now, too.
"you made me wait the whole night. and I couldn't even say anything, not to you, or–shit, to him." his pace quickened, his words breaking as he spoke.
your breath catches as the second wave builds quickly, more intense than the first. thighs clamping shut pathetically as your back arches. "j–jo it feels weird." your brows furrowing as whimpers escaped you, a heavy feeling settling within your lower belly.
"it's okay, pretty, cum for me. c'mon I know you can."
jo's hips stutter against yours, his cock buried deep inside you as he feels your walls beginning to flutter. his dark eyes lock onto yours, watching the desperate pleasure build on your face. "that's it," he groans, his voice strained with his own approaching release. "let go for me, baby."
the pressure in your belly becomes unbearable, like a dam about to burst. "I can't— 's too much," you cry out. his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing tight circles as his thrusts become sloppy.
"fuck, you're so tight," he grunts, feeling your pussy clamp down on him. "gonna make me cum too."
the dam breaks. your orgasm tears through you as a gush of liquid sprays from your pussy, soaking his thighs and the sheets. your vision whites out as your body convulses, a strangled scream tearing from your throat.
"fuck, baby, that's it," he drawls out the words, groaning as his hips still, feeling your pussy gush out its release around him. his eyes widen at the sight of you squirting, his cock throbbing deep inside you. for a moment, he hesitates, clearly torn between filling you with his cum and pulling out.
"god, I want to stay inside," he growls through gritted teeth, the words barely comprehensible as he reluctantly pulls his throbbing cock from your still-spasming pussy. he wraps his hand around his shaft, stroking rapidly as he watches your body trembling through the aftershocks.
with a guttural moan, Jo spills across your back, thick ropes of cum painting your skin as your pussy clenches around nothing. he watches the cum pool in the arch of your lower back before he collapses beside you, breathing heavily as he watches you shudder through the last waves of pleasure.
"fuck," he whispers, trailing his fingers through the mess on your back before leaning down to press a kiss against your shoulder.
he grabs a tissue from the nightstand, gently wiping the release off your body.
he turns you over, pulling your body into his arms, the shift from rough to immediate tenderness making your already hazy mind spin. the aggressive man from moments ago is gone, replaced by the jo you know, his eyes soft and full of concern as he brushes the sweat-dampened hair from your forehead.
"hey," he whispers, his voice raspy but gentle. "you okay? did I hurt you?" his thumbs stroke your cheeks, his gaze searching yours for any sign of distress.
you can only shake your head, your body still tremblingk with aftershocks. "no," you manage to say, your voice hoarse. "just… a bit sore." you say, stretching your shoulders, the ache between them bearable but present.
a flicker of relief crosses his face before guilt sets in. "i'm sorry," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "I got… carried away. seeing you with euijoo, I just…" He trails off, his hold on you tightening slightly. "I never thought I would feel this way. I hate the way I felt." He shakes his head.
"It was my fault," you admit, snuggling closer to him. "I wanted to see what would happen. I wanted to see if I could get you like this."
jo chuckles softly, the sound warm against your ear. "brat," he says affectionately, nuzzling your neck. "but you're my brat." his hands begin their familiar gentle exploration of your body, tracing the curves he knows so well, the touch a stark contrast to the rough handling from before.
"let me take care of you," he murmurs, reaching for the water on his nightstand. He helps you sit up slightly, holding the glass to your lips as you drink, his eyes never leaving yours. When you're done, he sets the glass aside and pulls you back against his chest.
"better?" he asks, his fingers combing through your hair.
you nod, feeling the tension drain from your body as you relax into his embrace. "better," you echo, your eyes growing heavy as sleep begins to claim you.
"rest now," he whispers, pressing a final kiss to your forehead. "we'll shower later, pretty.
summary. nerdy sim jaeyun is sweating buckets when the baddie he's been crushing on sits in his lap on a two-hour road trip.
pairing. nerdy!jake x baddie!female reader
genre(s). oneshot, smut, big porn with a small plot
warnings. MDNI, jake is a professional yearner, jake is very shy and repressed (and a bit insecure), masturbation, pervert!jake, unprotected sex (pls don’t), subby switch!jake, top or bottom he's always a sub, reader is a bit mean, jake cries a lot and begs a lot, slight sunsunki if you squint, handjob, blowjob, nose-riding, jake eats her out as well, reverse cowgirl, cowgirl, missionary, BRO WHY IS IT NEVER-ENDING, but like it's messy, EDGING EDGING EDGINGGGG, reader calls him jaeyun, reader is jealous and possessive, implied aftercare, enhypen ensemble, hmm please let me know if i missed anything! not beta read we die like injang
word count. 14,807 words
note. oh boy! this used to be a veeeery old, 8k-word draft, my take on nerdy jake that i decided to polish and give life to. it is also a gift for my bestie and fellow jake's wife: dr. @twocupsofsuga 🫶🏼 congratulations on passing medschool! you're so smart mhm here's my lap dance for you 😏
Women make Sim Jaeyun nervous.
Especially someone as bold and confident like you.
There's something about the soft lilt of your voice that makes him feel ashamed to even speak in your presence. There's something about your enticing eyes that makes him stutter and stumble with his own words, his grammar-police persona flying out the window. There's something about the sure sway of your hips that makes him want to avert his gaze and look more all the same time; like something sinful he shouldn't want but crave for anyway.
You're the kind of woman that makes Sim Jaeyun nervous.
Park Jongseong's cousin from the States that always comes to visit for summer, with that bold show of your body that'll usually often get frowned upon in his neighbourhood, that honey tint of your skin that's far from the local society's beauty standard. You're upfront and so unapologetically you, something he admires and makes him overly conscious if his hair looks nice or not.
It's another summer and you're here again. You're always a welcome addition to their annual trip to Jay's beach house, a road trip that's usually joined by the other five plus you and him. But this year, Nishimura Riki had a last minute decision to cancel his flight to Japan and opted to spend the summer with them instead of with his family.
Which leaves all of you with no space for one person inside Jay's SUV.
"I call dibs on the rear seats," Heeseung says before anyone gets the chance to and disappears into the car. Riki opens his mouth, about to follow the eldest of the group, when Jungwon shoots him a sharp look and blocks his way with his hand.
"No, Riki. You're not getting a seat."
Riki's face morphs into horror. "What?! Am I excluded from this trip?"
"You cancelled your flight this morning. You were never included in the trip."
Seeing the look of hurt on his face, Sunoo actually takes pity on Riki. Peering inside, the blonde mumbles with a pout when he sees a small ice box sitting beside Heeseung. "Surely we can squeeze him into the rear seat, right…?"
"All of his six-feet-one ass? I'd like to see you try, Sunoo hyung." Jungwon shakes his head. He leans on the passenger door, already the assigned co-pilot of the car, in charge of Spotify playlist and Waze and moral support to his Jay hyung. "Either one of you sits in another's lap, or we can Uber Riki to the beach house."
Hearing that, Riki immediately throws his hands. "It's a two-hour drive, hyung, I might just be paying for the Uber's car loan! It's gonna be so expensive!"
"If you can afford cancelling your flight with no refunds, then I think you can afford an Uber to Sokcho."
Riki whips his head to his Sunoo and Jake hyung, jutting out his lips in a pout that's borderline pitiful. Jake mirrors his expression, not really having the power to go against Jungwon's verdict—as if anybody could. Jake pities him, really, but it's Yang Jungwon. There's a whole menace behind those cute dimples and boba eyes.
Beside him, Sunghoon lets out a long sigh. "Then one of us will have to sit in another's lap."
It's an option that has everybody darting their eyes around, afraid that any eye contact with Jungwon will make them become the sacrificial thighs for the two-hour road trip. They're all men packed with mass and muscles, a result of a gym routine that unexpectedly becomes a problem today. Each of them at least weighs one hundred-forty pounds. Jake's sure that if he was chosen, he'd lose his legs by the time they exit Seoul.
Just in time, a loud thud is heard from the car boot. You and Jay walk into the scene, just having finished loading all of their stuff into the car. Jake adjusts his glasses instinctively, unknowingly fixing his appearence when his eyes land on you.
You've abandoned your cardigan, now only wearing a yellow camisole top that only reaches your belly button and a pair of jeans shorts that ends at the bottom swell of your ass. Your outfit choice hides nothing about your figure—your perfect body that admittedly has always been on his mind.
Jake gulps and lets his eyes trail down to your legs. You're seriously one of the most beautiful and hottest girls he's ever seen, and unfortunately, he has a severe problem of having a crush on baddies who are completely out of his nerdy league. You're definitely one of them.
When he looks up, Jake almost faints when your gaze catches his eyes with an unreadable expression. He quickly averts his eyes, adjusting the thick black rims of his glasses that didn't need adjusting.
Did you notice him staring?
"Car seat problem?" Jay asks when he senses the tension among the boys, already foreseeing this issue the moment Riki told him that he was joining their road trip over the phone this morning. They hesitantly nod.
"So what's the solution?"
"Riki takes an Uber to Sokcho—"
"Which will cost him his tuition fees," Jay comments, ever the hyperbole-user.
"—Or someone has to sit in another's lap."
Judging from the expression on Jay's face, he, too, doesn't think it's a comfortable position to be sitting in on a two-hour road trip.
But apparently, someone thinks otherwise.
"Oh, then let's do that!" You pipe in, flashing them with your charming smile. "I don't mind doing it!"
There's an elephant silence that follows your statement. Upon seeing their gaped expression, your smile slowly dies down, unsure if you had said the right thing.
"…Or not."
"Or yes!" Riki interrupts, relief flooding his senses. His eyes lit up as he looks around at each one of his friends. "Guys, she's offered to sit in anyone's lap. We can do that, right?"
Jungwon narrows his eyes. "It's a two-hour drive."
Riki blinks nervously. "But noona wants it."
"Then let Y/N noona sit in your lap."
Now, there's a rosy blush blooming across Riki's cheeks. Jake frowns. Lucky bastard. "I-I mean—"
"Not him," you cut in, a small smile playing on your lips. Jake can feel the exact moment everyone holds their breath, as if the air pauses on its own accord and waits for the rest of your sentence. Either they're anticipating or dreading to be your exclusive seat in the car—he's not sure. He's certain that he's the former, but he's also certain you'd pick someone more your type—Sunghoon or Riki, who are loyal gym buddies that possess strong thighs for you to sit on—or even Heeseung who's abandoned his nap and is eavesdropping the conversation now.
He doesn't know why, but surely someone hot like you would pick someone just as hot, right? And hot in Sim Jaeyun's definition is someone who matches your confidence (not him), someone who has a good body and is not shy to show them (Jake thinks his body is nice, but he's also always wearing long-sleeves), or just anyone but him.
Jay pinches the bridge of his nose. "Then who?"
When your eyes meet Jake's, the brown-haired boy almost loses his breath.
A smile curves up your lips. Jake thinks he's hallucinating because there's no way you are smirking at him.
"With Jaeyun."
There's a ripple of gasps, disbelief and shock mixing with a hint of betrayal (no doubt from Riki). Jay's brow disappears behind his hair.
"Seriously, Y/N? You don't have to—Riki's rich enough to pay for the Uber."
Riki's protest is muffled when Jungwon pulls him into a chokehold and slaps a hand over his mouth. Jake wants to pity him, really, but this time he thinks he's the one who needs help because what do you mean? There's no way—
"I'm serious. Jaeyun-ah."
—Oh my fucking God. Jaeyun. Jaeyun. Who's Jaeyun? Who the fuck is Jaeyun?
Jake has a trouble hearing you over the loud roar of his blood, heart threatening to jump out of his throat. But he manages a small, airy, 'Hm?' when all eyes are on him.
You tilt your head slightly, eyes never letting go of his, holding him hostage in your gaze alone. This, paired with the way you call his government name—a name you prefer over Jake because 'it's cuter' (according to you, not him) when he first introduced himself to you four years ago, and Jake had let you because he could never say no to you—are the most perfect, never-before-seen formula to unravel the physics genius Sim Jaeyun.
Yeah. Jake is a goner. And will soon have a boner if no one stops you from picking him as today's sacrificial thighs.
"Can I sit with you, Jaeyunnie?"
Someone please say no. Someone please stop you. Someone please tell this Jaeyun to say no because—because why him? Is this some kind of a cliché ploy that popular girls do to play with men's feelings, especially a physics nerd like him? Because if it is, Jake hates to admit that he'd be a willing participant (even if it'd break his heart a little).
"Yes, sure," he squeaks, finally recognising that Jaeyun is his name. He's still trying to process that you chose him—not Sunghoon with his ridiculous broad shoulders, or Riki with his ridiculous long legs, or Heeseung with his ridiculous charm—but him, who's sweating buckets and dampening his armpits underneath his long-sleeved T-shirt. His glasses almost glide down his nose from how sticky it is.
"It's settled, then!" Sunoo claps once, already red and irritated from having to stand under the unforgiving sun for longer than necessary. "Jake hyung and Y/N will sit together. So I will be sitting with—"
"Me!"
"Me!"
Sunoo ignores Sunghoon and Riki, and walks straight to the rear seats. "With Heeseung hyung!"
Soon, there's shuffling and then everyone's already inside the car. Riki sits in the middle with a pout, a penalty for causing the minor disruption and losing rock-paper-scissors to Sunghoon and Jake. Sunghoon is happily humming to a song from the 80s, occassionally turning around to tease Sunoo who's been trying to join Heeseung in his mandatory road-trip nap. Jay and Jungwon have settled into their designated seats as the drivers of the day, already talking about the route they're taking and traffic condition. While Jake—well, he's preparing himself for the inevitable.
You're still standing by the door, overseeing the situation at hand, and Jake tries to ignore the way his cheeks burn under your weighted gaze.
"Can I sit now?" You softly ask. Jake hesitates a moment before nodding his head frantically.
"Y-Yes."
You, on the other hand, do not hesitate at all. Jake instinctively spreads his legs when you climb into the car, already aiming his lap as your throne for the next 120-minute of the ride. His senses heighten, overly aware of his friends' eyes watching his every move, and the soft scent of peach from your body wash that invades his nose when your weight finally settles on him.
In a split second, Jake goes from never daring to touch you to having you resting your ass comfortably on his clothed dick, thanks to a certain Japanese who's now queueing songs like he didn't just commit a fatal crime against his Aussie hyung.
His slightly longer thighs bracket your exposed ones in a hesitant cage, every point of your skin meeting his seems to burn through the fabric of his jeans. Your hair and neck are one breath away from his nose now, where he's inhaling lungfuls of peaches and creams and your vanilla-ish perfume, and Jake chooses to blink at the ceiling to avoid looking over your shoulders and possibly flashing himself with the swell of your chest under that thin camisole top. The already-cramped space feels even smaller, and Jake doesn't think he can breathe properly.
While at it, Jake hopes his prayers could break through the car roof and reach the heavens.
God, please have mercy on me and let my other head not have a brain of its own.
God answers him shortly in the form of you shifting around.
"You comfortable?" You ask innocently, adjusting yourself on his lap. Jake nearly inhales his tongue, feeling blood rush to his ears and south. A strangled noise escapes his throat instead.
"Mhm."
From the front, he can hear a snort coming from none other than Jay. "You sound constipated, dude."
'Try having a pretty girl sit on your dick then!', is what Jake wishes he could say to his friend, but he knows that this is more of a him-problem. Someone like Jay won't get flustered in this kind of situation—at least not as bad as he is, who doesn't even fucking know where to put his hands, hovering in the air like he's about to conduct a choral speaking.
So, Jake resorts to conveying his rage through the rearview mirror instead, hoping that his glare and frown are enough to make Jay feel bad. (They don't, Jay finds him cute instead).
Jungwon comes to save the day as he turns to the backseat. "Do you have everything with you?" All of them except Jake hum. He thinks he doesn't have his sanity anymore, but of course the younger boy pretends to ignore him.
Jungwon eyes each one of his friends, his gaze stopping longer at the sight of Jake gripping the leather seat, the white of his knuckles almost matching his face, and you smiling innocently at him. Jungwon badly wants to laugh.
Jake widens his eyes at Jungwon. Help me!
The younger boy gives him an indecipherable look before turning to face the front. "Alright. We're not turning back for you even if you forgot your PlayStation."
Jake wants to say that they might want to leave a certain Sim Jaeyun to save him from this misery, but all words are gone from his mind when the car starts forward with a sharp jolt. Your back meets his chest in a soft thud, punching air out of his lungs. Your ass pushes deeper into his lap and Jake nearly pierces the leather with his nails from how desperately hard he's gripping it.
"Oops, sorry!" Jay chimes from the driver seat, sounding far from sorry.
You straighten up and turn around, looking more sorry than your cousin. "You okay? Sorry about that, Jaeyunnie."
Oh, fuck. Please don't use that voice on him when he's one bump away from kissing your lips. You're so close it feels like you're breathing in the same air he exhales, so close he can see the faint, tiny freckles dusting your cheeks and the bridge of your nose.
"Yeah," he manages, voice hoarse like he's just swallowed a bucket of sand. "I'm okay."
There's a halt in your movement, like you're actually seeing him through the calm façade he's exuding. His breath catches when your eyes drop to his lips briefly, the bitten-red skin tingles under your heated gaze.
Then, after a moment, you smile at him so easily; as if the tension never existed, as if the pull was only one-sided.
"If you say so."
When he's met with your shiny hair again, Jake lets out a breath he unknowlingly held. Your voice fills up the space softly as you begin talking to Jungwon and Jay, all cheery and unrestrained while he's exerting mental training equivalent to physical labour of a building constructor to stop his dick from hardening every time you move.
He hears a snicker from his left and immediately meets with Riki's mischievous eyes. The younger boy mouths something that has Jake closing his eyes and leaning on the headrest in defeat.
'Don't get horny now, Jake hyung.'
Jake is worried that if it's not now, it'll be the next time Jay hits a bump.
Instead of a road bump, Jake's personal enemy turns out to be you.
Ten minutes in, everything is still going fine. Jake is still breathing, alive, and hasn't popped a boner that could traumatise you and get him banned from the car permanently. You also seem okay, still engrossed in a conversation with the cat-duo driving the car, talking about college and your winter trip to Japan.
For a moment, Jake selfishly thinks if his lap was that…sitable, seeing as you haven't shown any signs of discomfort yet. Or, to be fair, it has been barely ten minutes since they're en route, and though those minutes are enough to pull the others into a car nap, ten minutes feel like one round of orbit around the Sun when he has you sitting on his lap.
Jake can feel himself melt into the seat. Maybe this isn't so bad at all. Maybe he can make it to Sokcho without having to cut his dick off before anyone could see his hard-on. He just has to sit really quietly and will his mind to avoid teetering dangerous territory.
Yeap. Everything is fine.
Not until you decide to put your hands on his thighs.
Jake almost jolts at the contact, flexing his thighs instinctively when you place your perfectly manicured fingers on the surface of his jeans. It's a brief touch, one that can pass as accidental, but the lingering heat it leaves behind feels almost physical.
His eyes dart to the back of your head, trembling with nerves nearly frayed at the edges, gauging your reaction, and bites the bottom of his lips when you resume your conversation as if nothing happened. Or nothing really happened to you.
It's just a touch, for God's sake. Calm your dick down.
If a simple touch from you could unravel him this fast, what about other things? What if you hug him, or-or if you hold his hand, or—wait, is he wishing for other things to happen between you and him? (He does, but he knows that it won't happen.)
Jake gulps harshly and decides to enjoy the scenery instead. He stares hard out the window, so intense like he's memorising every species of the trees they pass by, mind lost in a whirlwind of horny thoughts clashing with rationality, when you do something again.
This time, it isn't an innocent touch on his thigh. It's an innocent move to hear Jungwon better. You lean forward, pushing your ass deeper into his lap simultaneously, offering your ear to Jungwon who seems to be sharing a secret about Jay. Jake's breath hitches and his hands almost come up to hold your waist, the friction sending heat through his body.
Fuck. He peels his eyes away from the window forcefully and follows down the dip of your spine to where your ass meets his crotch. Your position highlights the narrow of your waist and the width of your hips, all sinful curves that have him swallowing harder, something inside his pants threatening to stir alive. Jake closes his eyes.
Think of Jesus, Jake. Think of Layla. He absentmindedly fixes his glasses. Think of quantum physics. Think of—
"—Oh!" You squirm excitedly, round butt wiggling slightly against his cock. "Yes, I met her before!"
Jake hisses before he can stop himself, the sound serving like a knife cutting the conversation. You and Jungwon instantly turn to look at him, the latter wearing a mischievous expression when he sees the heat painting Jake's face red.
"Are you okay?" You prompt in concern, noticing how stiffly Jake is nodding at you.
"Y-Yeah. Good. I'm horgoony."
Freudian slip is gonna be the death of him.
Jay and Jungwon burst out laughing, catching the slip as fast as any dirty-minded man would. Jake's face turns a darker shade of red, avoiding your eyes whose brows now pinching in confusion.
"Horgoony?" You echo, pretty confident you have never heard of that strange word spoken before. Jake immediately shakes his head, panic creeping into his chest when Jungwon shows a sign of opening his mouth.
No! Do not let that orange cat speak! Jungwon only cares about his downfall!
"I feel horribly good! Yeah," Jake stammers, to hell with any logical reasoning. "Like, I feel good because we're on a road trip. But also kind of horrible because I get motion sickness sometimes."
Now that the string of the sentences has flowed out of his mouth, Jake thinks he is kind of making sense. Satisfaction blooms in his chest when you nod in understanding, because two conflicting emotions—feeling good and horrible—can exist simultaneously, right? Like the way he wants to push you from his lap and hide in the deepest part of the Sokcho forest forever but also craves to just grab your hips and pull you close and have his way with you—wait stop.
What a horrible, horny, nothing-good man you are, Sim Jaeyun.
"That does sound horrible." Jake snaps out of his thoughts when he registers your voice, nodding fervently to amplify the faux pity that he's just orchestrated.
You give him a sorry look, the one where it pulls the corners of your mouth down into a frown. Jake sighs in relief. You bought it. Thank God for his smart brain.
"Yeah. I think I'm just gonna take a nap," he adds, voice turning softer when you still look at him in concern. He feels a strange need to overexplain.
"Motion sickness happens because your eyes see one thing while your inner ears and muscles feel another. If I take a nap, it'll eliminate the visual stimuli that causes the conflict…" Jake trails off, catching himself before he could go on and on and on on why humans experience motion sickness, and possibly bore you to death. He shakes his head imperceptibly. "So—yeah. I should take a nap."
To his surprise, you only give him a warm smile. "I never knew that, Jaeyun. Then what's the correlation between motion sickness and playing your phone in a moving vehicle?"
Jake blinks behind his glasses, genuinely taken aback that you're actually listening instead of zoning out halfway through his rambling.
"Oh. Um." He clears his throat. "It's kind of the same concept. Your eyes are focused on something stationary—your phone—but your body still feels the movement of the car."
You hum softly, leaning back against him slightly, prompting him to continue. Jake immediately forgets how lungs work.
"S-So your brain gets confused because the signals don't match," he continues weakly. "Your eyes tell your brain you're sitting still, but your inner ears are like, 'No, we're moving.' It's like mixed signals, and our body doesn't like mixed signals."
His ears are warming up from how true the words are to the situation he's having with you.
"And right now you're seeing my stationary body while the car's moving," you continue with a subtle tilt of your mouth, "so you're nauseous and all dizzy now, right?"
Jake almost chokes to death. Did you know about his little problem? He blinks at you rapidly, hand itching to touch his glasses in a fit of nerves.
Oh my God. He's going to die. He's going to die and Jungwon will write 'Sim Jaeyun was a smart friend, died a horny man with a dick that never went down, a standing ovation to his contribution to Seoul National University' as his headstone epitaph. You know about it so Jake is going to die!
He stumbles with his own words. "I-I mean—It's actually—"
You give him a cheeky smile. "I'm just joking with you, Jaeyun. You're probably sick because you're having me on your lap like this."
You start digging into your front pocket, frowning when it's empty. Jake holds his breath when your hands move to your back pocket, looking for whatever it is that gets you so determined and his dick so excited whenever your finger brushes against his crotch. Jake is almost blue from not breathing.
He thinks this time he's really going to die.
"Found it!"
You offer your palm to him, where two mint candies sit idly on the soft surface. Jake's chest slowly feels lighter as air rushes in, no longer collapsing under the pressure of your searching hand accidentally brushing against him moments ago. He clears his throat.
You beam at him. "These will soothe your sickness, Jaeyunnie. Please take them."
Jake studies your face.
Do you know what you're doing to him? Was everything done on purpose, or are you really oblivious to everything?
He swallows and forces a nod, taking the candies from your palm, feeling a spark of electricity in his system when his fingers brush your skin.
"Thank you, Y/N."
You turn your back on him, resuming your conversation with Jungwon and Jay. All sweet and cotton candy, unaware of the turmoil he's going through. Jake stares at the candies in his hand, a mocking sign to his misery, and heaves out a quiet sigh. He glances at his wristwatch.
It feels like two world wars had happened but it's only been twenty minutes into the drive. An hour and forty minutes of horny torture remains for Sim Jaeyun to endure, and he's not sure if he's going to survive.
He slowly closes his eyes. Maybe sleep can help with horniness, too.
It does, but only for a moment, because Jake could swear he just blinked when you tap his shoulder a few times.
Jake blinks, half-groggy and half-alert. Did he have a wet dream of you and get hard in his unconsciousness? Is that why you woke him up?
But he's met with your apologetic face instead. "I'm sorry for waking you up," you whisper, trying not to wake other boys who are fast asleep. "But my back's sore. Can I lean on you for a moment?"
In a flash, all incoherent thoughts fly out the window. Guilt starts lodging in his chest as he realises—glancing at his watch—that you've been sitting straight for one hour. Before he knows it, Jake is already nodding at you, adjusting his seat to accommodate the new position.
"Y-Yes, you can."
God, he's such a loser. The word 'no' seems to disappear from his dictionary whenever you're around.
You reward him with an appreciative smile and waste no time to turn around and lean back softly on him. The moment your back touches his chest, Jake can feel his system kick start, a chemical reaction that he can never understand no matter how hard he studies Biology.
You physically relax into his chest. "This is so much better," you sigh, a dreamy smile on your face, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Then you tilt your head upwards to glance at him. "Is this okay for you?"
Jake hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating through the fabric of his shirt. The brown-haired boy nods wordlessly. "More than okay."
For a moment, you just stare at him, brilliant eyes holding his in a soft gaze. It's a silent minute full of everything unspoken, rendering him speechless and even more restless because no matter how smart he is, he could never decipher the meaning behind this look you're giving him. There's something you hide that he feels like he should know, like an open secret waiting for the right time for him to catch.
This time, Jake is even sure that you can hear his heartbeat.
Then, as if that moment never happened, you close your eyes and get comfortable.
"We should sleep, Jaeyun. Don't want you to get carsick again."
You nuzzle closer and Jake holds his breath, feeling the silky strands of your hair brushing against his jaw. His hands hover, not knowing where to land, though the pinch of your waist is where he wants to hold the most. Eventually, Jake settles on his thighs, watching the difference between his veiny hands and the smooth span of your thighs.
Is he still sleeping? Is he dreaming or are you really sleeping on his chest?
It seems that sitting in his lap really tired you out, because you're fast asleep in less than five minutes. The guilt in his chest amplifies at the sight of your closed eyes, breathing evening out as sleep overtakes your being. Jake bites his lips.
He's so shameless, napping to avoid getting turned on instead of caring for your being. He’s so horrible, worrying more about his hard-on than the fact that you’ve been uncomfortable for an hour. Jake wants to cry so bad.
Jake spends the rest of the ride watching you sleep. He fixes your hair when it falls over your face, tucking it behind your ear carefully, and then smiles to himself when he sees your pout. He blocks the sunlight with his hand when it's glaring on your skin through the window, not minding letting his hand redden from the harsh light. He instinctively holds your waist at a sharp turn, firm and secure, though he lets go just as fast as if it burns, afraid that it's not a touch you'd receive had you been conscious.
Other than the carnal desire he has suppressed for you, this road trip also makes him realise the depth of the feelings he actually harbours for you. He's so doomed. He's so doomed because in what universe would a hot, sweet, popular California girl like yourself, return back the feelings of a bland, studious, quiet Korean-Aussie boy like him?
In fictions. In another lifetime. But not in Sim Jaeyun's current universe right now.
However, the Sim Jaeyun in this universe also will never know peace.
Because just as he's getting comfortable with the you-watching routine that he just recently discovered, the road has another plan for him when Jay finally, and actually, hits a bump this time.
The first bump is a mild surprise. Jake gathers it's a small bump, one that Jay overlooks while getting excited over Bon Jovi playing on the rodeo. But the aftermath brings you settling deeper into him, pressing on him in a way that has his breath hitching. Jake holds your waist on instinct.
"Oh my God, I didn't see that," Jay mutters from the front.
Jake tries to steady his breath. That's…a shock. One that shatters the soft atmosphere he created while watching you, now replaced with the same tension he's been fighting the last hour.
Jake lets go of your waist when he assumes that it's just a one-time thing. But then the bump happens again, and instead of a solid, big one—it's shaky, like they're sliding through endless, tiny jagged rocks.
"Damn bro, this road needs fixing," Jay makes another commentary. He glances at the rearview mirror. "You good, Jake?"
Jake doesn't know what to answer. "I think I am," he mumbles, voice clipped.
Is it good that you're practically bouncing in his lap, adding more pressure with almost no interval for him to recover mentally? He thinks not. But Jay doesn't have to know that.
"We're almost there," Jungwon chimes in, navigating the map. There's a shakiness in his voice that comes from the vibration caused by the bumps. "Fifteen minutes at most. We found a shorter route just now and traffic was smooth."
Fifteen minutes.
Jake thinks he might actually die in fifteen minutes.
Another bump sends your body rocking against him softly, your sleeping face scrunching for a brief second before relaxing. His grip tightens.
Fuck.
If Jay doesn't stop the car and fix this damn road himself then he's definitely going to pop a boner soon.
Jake squeezes his eyes shut when another bump rattles through the car, and then again, and again, and again until Jake can barely separate one sensation from another anymore. Until he doesn't know where he starts and where you end anymore. You shift unconsciously, settling heavier against his chest before Jay hits another bump.
This time, Jake makes a mistake of looking down at you.
He didn't notice it before, too lost in his sappy, romantic feelings for you. But right now, it's actually so damn obvious that the angle from where he sits taller than you and you lean against him, he can easily see your cleavage past the neckline of your camisole.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The road doesn't stop shaking beneath the tires, and so does his pulse as he watches your breasts bounce with every bump that comes their way. Jake averts his eyes, so stiff and so strained, but can't help letting his gaze drift back to watch the soft mounds shake.
This is bad. This is very, very bad, and Jake is nothing but a bad fucking pervert.
A particularly rough patch of road sends the entire car jolting. Your body bounces against him harder this time, more pressure and more friction that Jake almost whimpers. He tips his head back, gulping harshly as the line of his long neck glistens with a sheen of sweat.
Inside his jeans, he can feel his cock kick.
Oh, fuck—he's definitely hard now.
Oh my fucking God.
"This is the last one, promise!"
Jake doesn't even register Jay's words, or the way your head hits his jaw from impact, because his internal system is flooded with horny-filled panic. He can feel it: his dick twitching and getting semi-hard from the continuous stimulation from your bouncing. He doesn't even realise that he's now clawing at his own thighs, seeking strength that could neutralise his blooming lust, or that you are finally awake.
"Are we almost there?" You ask groggily, blissfully unaware of the raging boner forming under your ass. You sit up when the coastal view greets your blurry vision, mouth gaping in awe.
"Oh, wow!" You gasp, always excited to visit Sokcho no matter how many times you've been there. "It's beautiful as always!"
The road is smooth now, but Jake's final torture arrives in the form of you bouncing, excitedly and consciously, in his lap. You wiggle in enthusiasm, urging Jungwon to pass your phone that's been charging at the front to take some pictures and send it to the family groupchat.
"Jungwon, Jaeyun, look at those seagulls!"
Jake is seeing no seagulls. He's only seeing white hot, painful pleasure as you move in his lap, his brain dissolving into useless static. His fingers twitch, itching to grab your waist and force you to stay still, but you're so excited that he almost didn't have the heart to do it.
"Did you see that?" You lean to the window, and then shift happily when you spot kites in the sky. "We should do that too! Hey, Jay, do you think you can—"
Jake finally has had enough.
The restraint that he's been holding onto finally breaks like a taut wire getting cut. His hands snap to your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, hips almost bucking up from the delicious friction alone. His lips drop to the shell of your ears, hot, ragged breath brushing the sensitive skin as his voice lowers an octave.
"Y/N," Jake licks his dry lips, the tip of his tongue peeking through. He watches with dark eyes as the hair on your neck stands straight under his unforgiving proximity.
"Stop fucking moving."
And that's the moment you feel it.
A bulge, hard and rigid and big, poking your ass from where you rest in his lap.
Oh my fucking God.
Sim Jaeyun is hard.
You freeze, breath hitching.
Neither of you dare to move. Not even your excitement of being back to your uncle's beach house, or Jay's questioning look from where you cut your sentence, can bring you to move. No.
You couldn't, not when Jake's hard dick is nudging at you right now, so tangible and unmistakably his.
The brown-haired boy is still panting in your ear, shooting tingles through your system. His grip on your waist is almost bruising, like he's trying very, very hard to hold back from overstepping lines that shouldn't be overstepped.
You hadn't meant for this to happen. Sure, Jake is fun to tease. That boy is all broken words and nervous glances whenever you're in his proximity, and it can't be helped when he blushes prettily too.
You just can't stop yourself from seeking his attention in your own way, because aside from being a pretty boy, Jake is also such a sweetheart and so, so smart. And in an age where intellligence is a scarcity, you absolutely adore smart guys.
Especially the one who isn't condescending and is actually eager to help people like him.
So, really—you hadn't meant for this to happen. Offering to become the one without a seat is a decision you made when you consider yourself to be lighter than most of the guys, but offering to sit in Jake's lap is definitely a decision born from personal bias. You kind of knew what it would cause—seeing how stiff and awkward Jake had been—but you let it go halfway through when the soreness in your back outweighs your desire to tease.
Which has now brought you to this situation.
The car's still moving like nothing happened, and the boys are slowly stirring to life one by one. Everything is normal, except for the nails digging into your waist and the deep timbre in your ear.
You swallow harshly, not daring to move. Jake is so close, so close that you can feel every movement of his chest. You sit still in his hold, trying not to wince from how hard he's gripping your hips, and how hot you find the situation is.
His dick, despite no movement is being made, only hardens further. Jake gasps almost imperceptibly, almost matching the way your breath leaves your mouth when you notice, again, just how big he is.
Fuck. Fuck, that's so hot. Sim Jaeyun is so hot and you can feel yourself slowly getting turned on.
Without any warning, as if driven by an invisible force that urges to look at him, you finally turn around.
And Jake looks absolutely wrecked.
Beads of sweat dot on his forehead, the furrow of his eyebrows showing restraint and constraint. His lips are red from how hard he's biting them, and his previously clean, smooth glasses are now fogged up and hazy. His eyes, glazed over with tamed lust, lock into yours, half-lidded and dark.
A breath catches in your throat.
This is not the Jaeyun you know.
Or, more accurately, this is not the Jaeyun he usually shows.
This is another side of him, like seeing Jake wearing short-sleeves and showing his arms for the first time. Gone are his round, puppy eyes, now replaced with this narrowed, slit gaze that makes you shiver under his heated stare. He used to be so nervous around you, and you can feel that he's nervous now, too, but his pent-up sexual frustration seems to outweigh any rational daily-Jake thoughts.
This is still Sim Jaeyun. Just a different, never-before-seen side of Sim Jaeyun.
"Are we finally there?" Riki, the last one to awaken, stretches beside the two of you. You don't even notice that the car has pulled up into the driveway of Jay's ridiculously huge beach house from how piercing Jake's gaze is holding your eyes captive now.
Jake bites his lips, the fog in his head slowly clearing up now that the car has stopped. As if snapping out of a daze, he quickly maneuvers you into Riki's lap instead, showcasing his strength that he often hides. The latter yelps at the sudden weight and grabs your waist on instinct, before Jake darts out of the car without looking back.
"Sim Jaeyun! Bring your own fucking luggage!" Jay shouts from the car boot, but the brown-haired boy has already disappeared behind the door.
You sit, stunned in silence, still frozen and unable to speak. Not until Riki nudges at you, Heeseung and Sunoo impatiently asking the both of you to move so that they can get out.
"Are you okay, noona? Is hyung okay?"
You nod. You give the youngest a strained smile as you slowly move out of his lap and out of the car, careful not to start another war of hormones.
"We're okay."
The lie tastes bitter on your tongue.
Jake is avoiding you.
It's a foreseeable aftermath. It's inevitable. But it pains you regardless.
It gets to the point where he straight up refuses sitting next to you at dinner, which raises some eyebrows and teasing from the boys. But you know better.
He is deliberately avoiding you.
It frustrates you, really. Because every summer, it is your thing with Jake to sit in silence in the morning and read at the porch, enjoying the sunrise over wordless, comfortable silence. But now he purposely sleeps in, waking up later than usual, leaving you alone in the cold of dawn, your paperback copy of The Inheritance Games left untouched on your thighs.
At movie nights, he'll be the last one to join, just to see where you sit first to avoid being near you. He'll become extra quiet when you speak, acting like the floor is more interesting than your face, not even sparing you a glance.
And your patience is wearing thin. Almost thinner than the bikini you're wearing right now.
Fine. He can ignore you all he wants, act like he didn't just pop a boner after letting you sit in his lap. He can pretend like you never affected him, pretend like nothing happened, but one thing you know is that Jake could never betray his attraction for you.
So, be fucking it. You don't care if it's petty to pick the skimpiest bikini you own today, the one in hot pink that always contours the line of your cleavage, perfectly bunching up your tits and making them look rounder. The one that you know will drive Jake crazy from how bouncy your ass looks, basically confirmed when his eyes can't seem to stop trailing after you even after you dive into the pool.
You come to the surface with a gaping mouth, letting the water slide down the lines on your body, and make no show of hiding yourself from looking straight at Jake.
That coward has the nerves to look away after staring at you like a touch-deprived teenager.
"Is Sim Jaeyun single?"
The reason why you always agree to join the all-boys road trip is because it's not exactly all-boys. There are girls who live nearby. Girls you're acquainted with from how often you follow your cousin to his beach house every summer. Spoiled rich girls whose parents come from the same tax bracket as your and Jay's family.
And one of those girls is shamelessly checking Jake out now, hungry eyes drinking in the way his wet, long-sleeved shirt sticks to his torso, outlining the faint lines of his abdomen that he never shows. She's sitting on the edge of the pool, feet-dipping while you take a break from your swim.
You narrow your eyes, an ugly spark of jealousy blooming in your chest. You don't like the implication of the question, and you absolutely hate the way she's looking at him now.
"Don't even think about it."
Your neighbour only shrugs and continues her eye-fucking. "He's so my type. So nerdy, so smart. I wonder how he'll look like without the glasses?"
You will poke her eyes before she gets the chance to. "Use your own imagination," you hiss, almost bitter when you realise that you also have barely seen him without his glasses.
Jake has sensitive eyes that react badly to contact lenses, which explains his preference for thick glasses than going out without them. Even now, when everyone is fooling around Jay's enormous pool, his thick, black-rimmed glasses perch on the bridge of his tall nose—the nose you hope you can put into good use one day.
The girl only hums, half-listening to you. She sighs dreamily. "I can't believe that I have his number."
At this point, the jealousy has turned so ugly you're actually seeing green. Or red. Or whatever that Cortis song sounds like. "You have his number?"
She finally pays attention to you. "Yeap! I asked him yesterday. I don't know what I should say to start the conversation though," she pouts, glancing back at Jake who's now sitting on the side with Sunghoon, sipping on coconut water. "Should I ask him if I can join dinner at your house tonight?"
Jake gave his number to her?
You grit your teeth. The hurt has materialised into a knife, twisting in your chest in a sharp pain disguised in jealousy. So, while Jake's been avoiding you like a fucking plague, he's been spending his time giving away his number to any curious girl? He's been talking with other girls while leaving you with radio silence, one that you didn't deserve because it was him who popped that boner?!
You are the one who's supposed to ignore him—not the other way around!
What a fucking loser.
You can't stop the bitterness from leaking through your voice when you finally speak.
"It's me and Jay that you should ask—not Sim Jaeyun. And no, you cannot join dinner at my house tonight."
You leave her dumbfounded by the pool, seething in anger that the water on your skin could steam from the heat alone. You march to the slide doors, giving Jake and Sunghoon the nastiest side-eye you could ever give when the latter calls out to you, and slam the door behind.
Whatever. Or not whatever. Sim Jaeyun is a fucking pervert and a jerk and a coward, and stupidly hot while being so oblivious to how hot he actually is. Whatever! You don't care.
You don't care that he barely speaks a word to you. You don't care that he leaves any room you walk into. You don't care that he's flirting with other girls and giving away his number willingly when you had his on default for being Jay's younger cousin, and from Jay himself at that.
The corner of your eyes burn.
You wish you didn't care.
You're ignoring Jake.
Jake knows this the moment you no longer come to the porch to read. Instead, every morning is now spent in the garden with Jungwon, tending to Jay's mom's flowers. After, you'll brew some hibiscus tea that you pluck from the garden and share it with Sunoo and Riki.
And when he walks into the kitchen to get some food, you no longer meet his eyes, or save that apple that he knows you know he likes to eat for breakfast. You let Heeseung eat all of them! It's so—so unfair, because he likes apples and you know it!
It sends Jake to the end of a cliff. Why are you suddenly being like this?
His sanity is stretching thin as he tries to work his brain. Why the sudden change? Is it because of his silence? But he's just embarrassed to face you! Or—did you find out about it?
Genuine horror floods his mind when he thinks, oh no, you must've realised how disgusting he truly is. How dirty-minded and perverted he is, that every day he has to take cold showers three times a day whenever he catches a glimpse of you.
You in your sleepwear. You in your casual shirt. You in shorts.
You in bikini.
Jake has fallen out of any point of salvation, because God, could any man get this horny just from a mere look? In the back of his mind, he knows it's the image of you sitting in his lap that ignited the beginning of his undoing, but the continuous hard-on he gets whenever he's around you is definitely, entirely on him.
And Jake, oh so sweet Jake, doesn't dare touch himself to the thought of you. No. He'd rather leave his balls blue, take cold showers every morning, every evening, and every night, and let his dick go from standing tall like a national anthem was being played to becoming flaccid under the cold water without any action. He doesn't even have the guts to touch his own fucking dick, the guilt blocking him from doing anything to relieve himself.
So—did you find out about it? Because if you did, then Jake could understand the cold shoulders you're giving him.
But Jake is a mere man—maybe a bit perverted, and a bit too horny despite his image, so he couldn't stop himself from getting hard the moment he sees you walking into the living room in nothing but an oversized white tee that falls off your shoulder. He grabs the nearest cushion and places it on top of his crotch, blood already rushing south when he sees the strap of your black bra.
This is why he has to go to church sometimes; to balance everything out. Because Einstein never talked about the solution or formula to cure men's (Jake's) sexual desires that seem endless. And sexual desires that come from seeing a strap of a bra alone.
Whatever it is, Jake's soul has almost left his body, already tuning out of his surroundings. He doesn't even realise that Jay and Riki are wrestling for the TV remote, and accidentally sending said remote flying onto the floor just a few feet away from him.
He only comes to when you stand in front of him, back facing him, and bend over to pick up the remote.
You. Bend. Over. In. Front. Of. Him.
In a second, Jake has a full view of your ass. The shirt rides up slightly, revealing white shorts that stretches across the round flesh as you bend over to reach the remote and Jake feels like he's brought back to the car when he was fighting demons as you unintentionally ground his crotch with every movement.
His grip on the cushion tightens, head dizzy from the way you practically shove your butt in his face.
Jake releases a shaky exhale.
He can see the outline of your panties and wonders if it matches your black bra.
And he can see the outline of his doomed future if he stays in the living room any longer.
"Whose turn is it to pick the movie?" You casually ask, now straightening up as if you just didn't flash Jake with your perky ass.
"Jake hyung," Jungwon replies from the center of the long couch, carding his hand through Sunoo's silky hair, the blonde who's now laying down his head on his lap. "It's his turn."
Your face remains expressionless as you turn to the glasses boy. But instead of taking the remote from your hand, Jake stands up, avoiding eye contact and clutching the cushion tight over his crotch.
Then he flees the living room, leaving behind six confused men and one very angry, very upset girl.
Jake thinks he deserves a medal for surviving the living room.
Or perhaps an exorcism.
The moment his bedroom door clicks shut behind him, Jake drops the cushion onto the floor and drags both hands down his face with a groan. His glasses nearly fall off his nose in the process.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
He paces once across the room, then twice.
Outside, he can still hear the muffled sounds of the movie downstairs—Riki yelling dramatically at a character, Sunoo complaining about spoilers, Jay laughing too loudly. Normal sounds. Normal people.
Meanwhile Jake feels like he's one accidental glimpse of your shoulder away from committing a crime.
His eyes squeeze shut.
That white shirt.
The black bra strap.
The way you bent over in front of him so casually, completely unaware that Jake nearly ascended right there on Jay's living room couch.
"Fuck," he whispers weakly to himself.
Jake drops onto the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees.
Maybe he should take another cold shower. That would make four today.
"I should sleep," he mutters to himself, breath shaky. "S-Sleep can help with motion sickness and horniness."
With a newfound resolution, he turns off the lamp and settles under the blanket. His movement is stiff and awkward, overly aware of the tent straining his shorts. Once he pulls the blanket over his chest, Jake closes his eyes, forcing sleep into his system.
Only, the image of you swimming in your hot pink bikini flashes behind his eyelids.
"No, stop. Not that," he whispers, brows scrunching in protest. He shakes his head, as if physically removing the image away, and tries again.
This time, the image of you in his lap comes back, stripped down to heated skin and soft breaths, your body moving against his in ways that make his stomach twist.
His eyes fly open. The image is so clear and vivid, thanks to his photographic memory and insane imagination—the very thing that's been saving him in the academic department now serving as the tool that brings him to his downfall.
His cock twitches involuntarily.
"N-No," he pants, chest moving rapidly. He grips the edge of the blanket, knuckles turning white. "I—Stop—"
Then he remembers just now: you bent over, giving him a delicious access to his ass-shaped sufferings, and Jake almost whimpers from the flashback alone.
The room rises in temperature, the air conditioner doing nothing to tone down the feverish lust spreading through his body. Jake finally relents and discards the blanket, glasses all fogged up as he stares at the bulge under his shorts.
"I'm sorry," he whimpers, slipping off his shorts and boxers until they bunch up around his knees. "I'm so fucking sorry."
His cock springs free, standing tall in the dimness of his room. The tip glistens, already drooling with precum that shows no sign of stopping. With shaky hands, hesitance still edging around his lust, Jake finaly touches himself.
He has to bite down hard on his lips to muffle the sound threatening to escape. His hand stutters, the feeling of finally rubbing some relief after days of holding back comes crashing down on him. His head spins from how heavy his cock is in his hold, veins protuding like they're going to combust.
He slowly starts moving his hand, lathering up precum to ease the glide. His head tips back, a strangled sound catches behind his throat.
"Oh, God," his head spins, sparks of lust bursting at the tip of his fingers. "Oh, fuck—"
Through his hazy gaze of the blurry lenses, Jake tightens his grip slightly. A moan escapes his lips at the force, his cock only getting heavier in his hand. He plays with the mushroom tip of his dick, thumbing the slit and hissing when it sends pleasure up his spine.
"Ngh—" his eyes squeeze shut, brain putting up pieces of his memory of you. His body jerks when the rough pad of his thumb touches the underside of his cock, and as if on cue, the image of your jiggly breasts inside the car flashes behind his closed eyes.
"Fuck—Y/N," Jake sobs, picking up his pace. His wrist turns and flicks, biceps flexing hard at the speed he's going. Guilt starts accumulating inside his chest the more he thinks of you, of your voice, of your gaze, of your scent—but guilt isn't enough to stop Jake from chasing his own release.
"'So sorry," he chokes, letting go of his bottom lip, bitten-red and swollen. He imagines it was your hand instead of his, smaller and softer, with those manicured nails that he loves so much. How tiny your hand would look around his hard dick, trying to grip his length in its fully erect state.
Jake isn't inexpereinced. He's had his own fair share of sexcapades with a few people, and he's always been told that he's bigger than average. The big dick that he hides under his pants, further concealed by his nervous persona that only certain girls find cute.
But seeing his state right now, Jake thinks he's the furthest thing from cute.
He's pathetic.
Pathetic and gross and disgusting, feeling bad for jerking off to the thoughts of you but still unable to retract his hand and stop. The sound of his cries that he fails to hide fills up the space, and for the first time in days he's very glad that he won paper-rock-scissors during room assignment.
"Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," he chants, mouth gaping open when he can feel himself close. His wrist is already tired and numb from the relentless pace he's set, the slick sound of his sinful act matching the roar of his blood rushing in his ears.
"Please, please, 'm gonna cum," he sobs, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. His hips lift off the mattress. "Please—"
"Do not fucking cum, Sim Jaeyun."
Jake's entire body locks up.
His wrist stills immediately, pleasure crashing into horror so fast it makes his stomach twist. For a second, he genuinely thinks his heart stops beating.
The room goes dead silent except for his ragged breathing.
Through fogged-up lenses and teary eyes, Jake stares at you standing by the door, unable to process the fact that you're actually here.
That you heard him.
That you saw him.
Oh my fucking God.
His hand jerks away from himself like he’s been burned, chest heaving violently as he scrambles to sit up straighter. The blanket tangles around his legs from how abruptly he moves.
"I—"
Nothing comes out.
Jake has never felt this level of humiliation before.
Not when he failed his chemistry olympiad in tenth grade. Not when he tripped in front of his entire lecture hall. Not even when Jungwon found his hidden Pokémon card collection at nineteen.
This is worse. So much worse.
Because it's you.
You, standing there in that oversized white shirt slipping off your shoulder again, eyes dark and unreadable as you look at him sprawled across the bed like something shameful.
Jake feels sick. His face burns so hot he thinks he might actually pass out.
"S-Sorry," he chokes out instinctively, because apologising is the only thing his brain knows how to do right now. "I didn't—I wasn't—I—"
His voice cracks miserably.
Jake is going to cry.
What should he even say in this situation? Sorry that you caught him jerking off to you? Sorry that he's such a nerd, such a loser that the only time he could talk smoothly with you was when he was defining what motion sickness was, but never had the courage to tell you how much he likes you and how much you affect me? Sorry that he's such a pervert that he thinks of you in positions way too inappropriate to be just friends?
The weight of his arousal sits heavy against his thigh, a testament to a newfound, lifelong embarrassment that he'll carry to his grave.
Jake squirms under your heated gaze, and quickly covers his crotch with his blanket when you slip into his bedroom wordlessly. The door clicks shut, the sound amplified by the heavy silence hanging in the air. His body tenses up.
Oh my God—he messed up, didn't he? Jake hangs his head low in shame, tears gathering along his lashlines.
"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to…"
His vision turns blurry. Fuck, you must hate him now.
"I-It's wrong—I know that—I'm sorry—ah!"
Jake looks up in surprise when your bold hand cups his erection. There's angry lines in your forehead, a sneer on your mouth, but the nasty look you're giving him does nothing to soothe down his arousal.
If anything, twisted as it is—it turns him on even more.
"Couldn't even look me in the eye downstairs," you begin, "but you here you are, jerking off to me like I wouldn't find out?"
The venom in your voice hurts him. You're being mean with your words, and it hurts his feelings but Jake couldn't care less. His mind is a messy jumbles of guilt and pleasure and shame, so all he does is cry and shake his head.
"I-I'm sorry, Y/N—"
"Are you really sorry?" you tighten your grip on his cock, one knee dipping into the mattress. "Your dick doesn't seem sorry though."
Jake wants to cry—oh, he's already crying. His hand curls into the sheets beneath him, unable to form coherent words when you start rocking the heel of your palm on his hard-on. The friction from the blanket and the pressure from your hand only spark electric pleasure through his system.
Within seconds, Jake is all hard again—even harder than before.
"Tell me, Jaeyunnie. Did all of this happen because I sat in your lap?"
Jake whimpers pathetically. You knew. Of course you knew. You're not only hot and pretty and kind, you're also smart like him, so in tune with your surroundings. You're a little mean right now, but it's okay because Jake believes that he deserves this after avoiding you without any explanation.
"Answer me, Sim Jaeyun."
"Yes," he croaks, shame burning his face red. His eyes screw shut. The admission sets his being on fire, skin flushed from embarrassment. "O-Oh, God, y-yes."
He cracks one eye open when you don't reply. Instead, he's met with your fiery gaze. The edges have softened with lust, like you're also affected by this, but you're good at keeping your control.
Unlike him, who's unraveling like a loose thread under your touch alone.
Jake almost whines when you retract your hand, but the sound is muffled with a gasp when you yank the blanket open. He instinctively closes his crotch area with his hands, but you're fast to slap his wrists away.
"I'm so pissed off, Jaeyun," you mutter, swinging your leg over his thighs so now you're straddling him. You fix him with your sharp eyes, hand finding his dick again.
"You've been acting like we're strangers and it hurts me so bad."
Jake's mouth hangs open as you gather his precum and start working your wrist around his cock. His brain barely registers your words, too lost in a cloud of lust, but when he finally processes it, he desperately shakes his head.
He wants to apologise again and again and again, because he is truly sorry—he didn't know how affected you were. How could he not, when you're always described as everything out of his league, but he's always described as everything that doesn't fit your type?
"I'm sorry, I was just—fuck—just ashamed—" he gasps, hips bucking into your touch. "Didn't mean to—t-to hurt y—ngh, Y/N, faster please."
You coo at him, feigning sympathy as you set a ruthless pace on his cock. Jake is big—something that isn't a surprise anymore since that day you sat in his lap—but the sheer size of him is enough to make your mouth water and your panties damp.
Damn these nerdy boys. Acting all shy and innocent when they have this monstrousity hiding behind those ugly glasses.
"Faster? You wanna cum, Jaeyunnie?" you tilt your head. Jake nods frantically. "I don't think you deserve it, though. Why not ask from those girls you gave your number to?"
Something sharp twists in his stomach. Jake's eyes fly open, almost cowering when you give him a distasteful look. He grabs your arms desperately and shakes his head.
"N-No! She asked me first—" you put more pressure and Jake damn near loses his mind. "—said she needs—help—w-with Physi—cs—"
You roll your eyes. It's that easy to fool him? Can't he see the way those girls fuck him with their eyes? Without waiting for his sentence to finish, you sink down and take him in your mouth.
"Oh, fuck!" Jake screams, accidentally thrusting up his hips. He bites his lips, glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose as you take him deeper, tracing the line of his veins with your sinful tongue. "Oh, Y/N—please."
You hum around his length, tongue swirling as you hollow your cheeks to deepen the suction. Jake nearly busts from that alone, mind melting into a puddle of your name, the wet heat of your mouth serving as a better pleasure than his own hand.
You start bobbing your head up and down, marveling in the way the weight of his dick sits on your tongue. He's so big that you're so close to choking, but you don't care. You need to remind Jake how stupid he's been acting and how stupid he is if he thinks that you were not just as attracted toward him.
Jake sobs into his hands, hips jerking with every touch of his tip hitting the back of your throat. His head is getting dizzier, he can feel the coil in his stomach getting tighter and he knows that anytime soon, he will come undone on your skillful tongue.
But just as he's about to reach that high, you let go of him with a pop.
"No!" Jake whines, tears sliding down his cheeks. You're so mean. "P-Please let me cum."
"Not yet, nerdy boy." You mutter, red lips slick with saliva and precum. Jake can only sob, dick throbbing in need and desperation.
This is the punishment he deserves for being a jerk. He knows that, but he can't seem to stop crying. God, he's so pathetic.
Then he feels movement on his thighs. He blinks through the foggy lenses and lets out a breathless moan when you lift up your shirt and shorts and discard them away, leaving you in nothing but a pair of bra and panties. His mouth starts salivating at the display of your beautiful body, and Jake swears he almost cums when he sees that you're indeed wearing black panties.
Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Just as he imagined—God, you're so perfect he wants to kiss you.
But instead of a kiss, you push his at his chest instead. "Lie down."
And like the obedient puppy that he is, Jake follows your word, carefully descending his back onto the mattress. He's still sniffling from the previous denial, but now it's mixed with anticipation of what's to come when you hover above him.
You trace a gentle finger along the tall bridge of his nose, a barely-there touch that makes him shiver. With a slow tap on the tip of his nose, you finally speak.
"Did anyone ever ride your nose, Jaeyunnie?"
H-His nose?
Girls always compliment his nose, but he's never given it many thoughts as to why they did that. "N-No. Never."
There's a wicked smile on your face as you stand on your knees. Jake watches with a mouth gaping open as you make a show of shimmying down your panties, painfully and traitorously slowly that he almost rips it with his hand.
"Ah, what a shame," you sigh dreamily. "Guess I have to be the first one then."
Once your panties are out of the picture, Jake is instanly hit with a wave of your arousal. Your pussy glistens under the moonlight, soaked with slick and dripping with need. Jake inhales shakily, stopping himself from darting out his tongue to get a taste.
Fuck. He's sure he has actually died in the car and this is heaven because not even in his wildest dream did he get to have you like this.
Too lost in his reverie, Jake belatedly notices that you have removed his glasses. Despite your mean words and your mean actions, the caresses of your thumb on his cheeks are so gentle that he thinks he's hallucinating.
"You're so handsome, Jaeyun," you murmur. "But I bet you'll look better buried between my thighs."
You give him no time to recover from your crude words when you slowly move to straddle his head. Then, with a hand in his hair, you descend, letting the tip of his nose nudge at your clit.
And oh my fucking God—you smell so divine.
"Ah, Jaeyunnie," you moan, rocking your hips slowly to test the waters. "Your nose feels so good."
You sound even more divine. Jake's eyes roll to the back, savouring the way your sinful moans fall on his ears as you use his nose to get off. The bridge of his nose slides through your folds—wet and sticky and so sweet that he can't get enough of it.
Jake wraps his arms around your thighs to give you support, and another moan escapes your lips upon seeing his veiny arms around your supple skin. He stares at you through half-lidded eyes, groaning despite your cunt suffocating him, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure to your system.
"Ngh—Jaeyun—"
He can't breathe, and he can't hear properly from how hard you're clamping his head with your legs, but he can't deny that this is the best way to die. Being suffocated by your leaking pussy sounds like a dream death compared to dying in Jay's old SUV.
You keep your rhythm, rocking your hips back and forth, grinding your clit on his nose and dragging your folds on the tall bridge until the sharp tip of his nose catches at your hole. The grip you have in his hair hurts his scalp, but everything is worth the pain when Jake can watch you fall apart on his face, his own cock pulsing with a trembling need to cum.
"Ah—ah—Jaeyun oppa—"
Fuck. Fuck that sacred nickname.
The dynamics between you two often makes Jake forget the fact that he is indeed older than you. Coming from the States, it's uncommon for you to address people with such honorifics.
But right now, using that very honorific against him ignites something inside him; a carnal desire that's been thrumming low in his guts, waiting to be unleashed.
This time, Jake barely stops himself from stealing a taste. He darts out his tongue, prodding your hole with the tip, and hums in satisfaction when your stance falters slightly.
"Don't," you hiss, but there's no heat in it. Jake takes it as a sign to continue, licking more into your weeping cunt until your pace turns sloppy.
He doesn't care. You're probably gonna be so mad at him and punish him more, but whatever it is you have prepared can wait. Right now, Jake is having the best pussy of his life—barely breathing but still eating so, so fucking well.
"Jaeyun—stop—"
"No," Jake protests when you try to get up, pulling you down until the full weight of your body rests on his face.
Oh God, choking on pussy has never felt so good.
"Sim Jaeyun!" You squirm, feeling the stirring inside your belly getting wilder. Despite your weak attempts, your hips keeps grinding on his nose, showing no signs of stopping. You throw your head back.
You knew his nose would be the best thing to ride on, but hearing the slurps of your slick and his saliva—the sinful noises of him feasting on your cunt—makes you almost regret not letting him eat you out first.
"Ngh—Jaeyun—I'm close—"
Jake pulls your hips harder, letting you grind your clit on the tip of his nose as his tongue pushes into your hole mercilessly. You let out a high-pitched scream, muscles pulling tight at his ministrations. The double stimulations are fast pushing you over the edge.
Soon, white hot pleasure crashes into you, your vision turning black momentarily. It's so blurry and messy that you haven't realised that you've been screaming his name raw, hips unrelenting to chase the high. Jake swallows every drop of your sweet nectar, moaning into your spasming hole as he licks it clean.
Fuck. He's already desperate to have another round.
When you come down from your orgasm, hair matted to your forehead, you look down at him furiously.
"Let me go! I told you not to do it!" You attempt to sit up, but Jake doesn't let go, shaking his head with a pout. His nose and chin are drenched with your release, it's so sinful and filthy and you can't lie that you like seeing him so wrecked and fucked over like this.
"Can I have more? Please," he begs, kissing your inner thigh unhurriedly. He's already so addicted to the taste of you, Jake thinks he's gonna die if he doesn't have another fill. "I'll be so good to you, Y/N. Wanna eat you out so bad."
You grit your teeth, pushing away the temptation to save your pride. "No. Get up, Jaeyun."
But Jake is stubborn. He's so desperate to have more of you that he doesn't mind if he's leaving his own cock neglected and balls blue. "Please, I need it bad," he nudges at your pussy with his finger, pupils blown wide at the strings of sticky cum decorating your folds. "Fuck, please, Y/N, I want to eat you out."
"I said get up, Jaeyun."
"Y/N—"
"Jake."
The sharpness in your voice cuts through the haze instantly.
Jake stills immediately.
The desperation in his eyes flickers into something softer, more uncertain, like a scolded puppy finally realising he’s crossed a line. His grip on your thighs loosens at once, chest rising and falling hard beneath you.
The sound of his English name on your tongue feels foreign and almost painful, because it lacks the usual warmth and intimacy that your 'Jaeyun' usually holds. Yet, something inside him pulses harder, liking the change more than he'd like to admit.
“S-Sorry,” he whispers automatically, voice rough. “I just…”
He doesn’t even know how to explain it. How could he? That hearing you moan his name made him lose every coherent thought in his brain? That he’s spent days trying to stay away from you only to end up here, beneath you, completely ruined anyway?
You study him for a long moment before finally shifting off his face.
“Sit up.”
Jake obeys instantly.
The movement is clumsy and needy. His hair is a mess, lips swollen, face still flushed from lack of oxygen and desire. Without his glasses, his eyes look unbearably open like this—too honest, too vulnerable.
You cup his jaw gently, the touch losing its cruelty. Jake melts into it.
"There he is," you murmur softly, fixing his bangs that are obscuring his eyesight.
Jake can feel his heart stutter traitorously. This version of you—tender and sweet—a glimpse of the usual-you, is always more dangerous than any teasing.
Wordlessly, you tug at his shirt, and Jake obediently holds up his arms to let you peel away the fabric. Your eyes flick downward, amusement tugging at your lips.
"You know," you start, fingers trailing slowly down his sculpted chest, "for someone who acted terrified of touching me in the car…"
He groans softly, already embarrassed.
"…You were pretty damn desperate down there, Jaeyun."
His face burns hotter. Fine, he's just a touch-starved man, desperate for you in every way possible. But how could he not? Have you even looked at yourself?
"I-I can't help it…" His eyes drop to your lips. "You tasted so good."
A breathy chuckle escapes you, quiet and fond. But to Jake's ears, he's already hearing the wedding bells chime.
And suddenly the humiliation twisting in his chest eases into something warmer when you climb into his lap again, turning slowly until your back presses against his chest.
The exact same position. That fucking position in the car that has his mind on an endless frenzy that he thinks he was genuinely getting crazy.
Jake goes completely still beneath you.
“Oh,” you whisper, settling against him deliberately. “Now you’re quiet again?”
His hands hover uncertainly near your hips, like he still can’t believe he’s allowed to touch you.
“You’re mean,” he mumbles weakly against your shoulder. You laugh, one hand patting his hair as the other one aligning his neglected cock on your entrance.
"But I know you like it, Jaeyunnie."
At the same time you presses on the nickname, you sink onto his cock slowly, letting the bulbous head of his length spear you open.
The both of you moan simultaneously. Jake's hands find puchase on your waist, trying his best to stop from manhandling you to just fucking bounce on his dick and letting you adjust. You, on the other hand, let the stretch burn, your walls spasming to accommodate his length.
"S-So big," you stutter, taking him inch by inch. Jake drops his head on your shoulder, his own breathing ragged. "So—full—"
When he finally fits inside you to the brim, you let out a long, drawn-out moan. He fills you up so good that you can feel every vein against your walls, every pulse kissing your insides. It's a dizzying experience that prompts you to start moving your hips.
Jake’s fingers dig into your waist, trembling.
Not because he wants to stop you.
Because he’s trying so hard not to lose himself completely.
The position alone is enough to send him spiraling—your back against his chest, your body in his lap exactly like the car ride, except now there’s no seatbelt digging into his side, no boys teasing from the front seat, no restraint left between the two of you.
Just you and him.
And the devastating realisation that you wanted him too.
Jake lets out a broken sound against your shoulder when you move again, his forehead falling against your skin. His entire body feels feverish, overwhelmed by too much sensation and too many emotions crashing into him at once.
"Wasn't this what got you so hard, Jaeyunnie?" You pant between breathless moans. "Me in your lap, bouncing on your cock like this?"
"Ngh—" A strangled noise escapes his throat. Jake watches with bated breath as your hands find the clasp of your bra and finally let the two soft mounds free. Now, he badly wants you to turn around, eager to relive the scene of your bouncy breasts in Jay's car.
"Did you not—ah—crave this?"
You arch your back, pleasure tingling every nerves as his cock drags against your walls. Jake feels his dick throb inside your hole, the same position that ruined him now had him completely at your mercy.
"S-So tight," he whimpers, mouth falling open at the way you clench around his cock and roll your hips. "S-So fucking tight, Y/N, fuck."
Jake clings onto you desperately, bucking his hips to chase your movement. But you hold down a firm hand on his thigh, completely in charge.
"Don't," you warn, grinding down on him in a way that makes your ass ripple. "Or I'll get up and leave."
Jake freezes instantly.
The warning slices straight through him, sharp and effective. His hands tighten on your waist, but he forces his hips back against the mattress despite every instinct screaming at him to chase you harder.
“O-Okay,” he breathes quickly. “Okay. Sorry.”
God, he sounds wrecked.
You can feel the way his thighs tremble beneath yours, the strain in his breathing every time you move your hips slowly against him. Jake drops his forehead between your shoulder blades with a weak groan, like simply holding himself back is physically painful.
"I'm still mad at you," you murmur. You roll your hips again, faster this time, and Jake nearly whimpers into your shoulder. His jaw clenches so hard he might pop a vessel.
"Are you sure you're not the one—" you moan, your thighs burning from how fast you're exerting yourself. The wet sound of skin hitting skin starts getting louder the harder you slam down your hips. "The one who's being—mean?"
Jake sobs into your skin, half-regretting, half-dizzy. The tight heat of your cunt pulses and flutters around his dick and he genuinely feels horrible for only thinking using his other head now.
Even so, he still manages to apologise again. "I'm s-sorry—"
You clench around him on purpose. Jake digs his nails deeper. "Fuck—"
"Stop fucking apologising," you seethe, voice trembling as you feel your release getting near. "Delete her number or I'll sit in Sunghoon's lap when we get back to Seoul."
There's no bite in your threat. It's just a spur-of-the-moment kind of things, one that you say just to rile him up.
But Jake takes your words like a verdict. He snakes an arm around your waist, lips worshipping your skin in desperate, wet kisses.
"I'm sorry, Y/N, darling," he begs, tears clinging to his lashes. He bites his lips in an attempt to stop himself from moaning because he's so, so close. "I will block her. Fuck—I will delete her number. P-Please don't sit with S-Sunghoon—"
His speech is interrupted by a high-pitched whine. Jake hasn't come all night, he's nothing more than a thread waiting to snap. The moment you bounce harder and faster, the supple skin of your butt jiggling wilder, Jake can feel that he's about to come.
"Y/N—ah—p-puh—lease—" he whimpers, voice scratching at his throat. "'M close, 'm g-gonna cum—"
But he should've known that you're so, so mean.
The moment you lift off his cock, Jake genuinely sobs out loud, thrashing under you.
"No! No, please—" he chokes, hiding his crying face behind his hands, too shattered when his orgasm being denied again. "Please, no—I wanna cum, please."
You turn around and the sight of him—red-faced, wet cheeks, lips trembling—it softens your heart. You quickly pull his wrists and rest his hands on your hips, your own cupping his cheeks.
"I'm sorry, baby," you shush him, blowing kisses to the tip of his nose as you take him again. Jake whimpers quietly. "I'm so sorry—I'll let you cum this time, hm?"
Jake weakly nods, then lets out a soft moan at the familiar feeling of your walls enveloping him. You move again, already sore, but you no longer have it in you to torture your poor, poor Jaeyun. This time, you immediately begin with a fast pace, giving him a show of your tits bouncing with every thrust.
"Ah—fuck—Jaeyunnie—" you bite your lips, expression so erotic that it has the brown-haired boy drooling. "Glasses—like you better with glasses."
Jake is too dazed to register your words, so you pick the glasses on your own and put them on him. And there he is—your sweet, sweet boy, your Jaeyunnie that you adore so much, your Jaeyun that thinks it's bad for wanting you this much.
"S-So—handsome, Jaeyunnie," you roll your hips, chest arching into his face. "My nerdy boy, you're mine, hm?"
Jake physically cannot take it anymore. The sight of you on top of him, bouncing on his cock like your life depends on it, putting on his glasses and calling him yours—it's too much for Sim Jaeyun who's never been given this kind of attention and affection.
Especially from you.
His lips move, but you can barely hear him.
"Hm? What did you say?"
"I said I'm sorry, Y/N," his nails dig into your waist. "I'm so fucking sorry, please don't be mad at me."
Your brows furrow in confusion, but before you know it, Jake is already flipping you around, changing your position in one swift movement. You have half a second to gain your breath before the boy hovering over you pulls you closer by your ankles and throws your legs over his shoulders.
"I'm s-sorry," Jake stutters, slipping his dick back into your cunt and starts thrusting fast. "I-I can't hold it anymore."
Despite the showcase of his strength, Jake looks absolutely ruined. There's a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but from the pace he's railing you, you know that his lust ovverrides whatever little guilt he has.
Soon enough, the air smells so thickly of sex. The sound of his balls slapping your ass, accompanied by your high-pitched moans and his groans are the only one filling up the space, to the point that you're sure one of the boys must've heard you.
It's so hot and filthy that Jake's glasses are all fogged up again. His grip on your waist is now leaving bruises, but you don't care because all you can think of is Jake, Jake's big cock, Jake's stupid glasses and just Jake, Jake, Jake.
"F-f-f-fuck," he exhales shakily, splitting you open with his cock. "I-I'm so—close—"
You thrash around, fisting the sheets until it tears from the force of your nails. "Jaeyun—" you gasp when he keeps abusing that spot that has you seeing stars. "Oh, fuck—Jaeyun—harder—"
Jake leans forward, straining his arms on either side of your head. His glasses slide down his slick nose slightly when he bends down to capture your lips in his thick ones. You both moan into the kiss, finally getting the taste of each other, tongues already clashing for more.
Jake licks into your mouth, hips never faltering, and sucks on your bottom lip. You whimper, the sensation becoming too much until you're just breathing against his lips, all heat and teeth and saliva. Jake groans.
"I-I'm gonna—cum—" he gasps against your mouth, face scrunching in pleasure when you clench around him. "O-Oh my fucking God, Y/N, fuck—please let me cum inside."
His hands find your waist again, thrusting harder than before. His head drops to your shoulder as he begs, again and again.
"P-Please let me cum inside, please," he whimpers, voice needy and whiny. "Please—I'm gonna—I wanna—"
"Just cum," you moan when his teeth scrape against your skin. "Jae—Jaeyunnie—"
Jake groans. With last few, deliberate thrusts, he finally cums—a full-body orgasm that has him shuddering, his cock spurting out rope after thick rope of his release, painting your walls white.
You follow him just a second after, vision blurring for a moment as your second orgasm rips through your body. Your mouth falls open on a silent scream, eyes rolling back from how delicious your climax is.
Jake takes a long moment breathing into your ear, grinding his hips slowly before he's finally pulling out. He hisses as he drags out his cock, careful not to overstimulate you, and watches in awe as white fluid flowing out of your pulsing cunt.
"Oh my fucking God."
You breathe out a laugh, sounding breathless and disbelieving. Seeing Jake sitting still by your legs, you open your arms toward him.
"C'mere, Jaeyunnie. Let's cuddle for a moment before washing up—I'm too sore to walk."
Jake perks up at that. Gone is the hungry, lust-driven boy a few moments ago, now replaced with the shy, kicked puppy holding his tail between his legs.
"Cuddle?" he echoes, unsure. "Are you not mad at me?"
"I could never be mad at you for too long," you reply, giving him a reassuring smile.
It gives Jake a flicker of hope. He scoots closer, still cautious and observing, like approaching a scared animal.
"But I avoided you…"
You drop your arms and pretend to think, making a show of tapping your chin with a finger.
"You're right. You were mean for that. Why don't you carry me to the bathroom and clean me up so we can cuddle afterwards?"
Hearing that, Jake finally relaxes, his tight muscles loosening. With an eager smile, he scoops an arm under your knees and your back, and then lifts you up easily as if you weigh nothing.
"Your wish is my command, my princess."
The next morning, you receive knowing looks from the boys. There are lingering stares on your neck from where Jake was mauling your skin last night, but you have no problem showing them off.
Jake, on the other hand, is on the edge of another breakdown.
"So, Jake," Jay starts, already planning a mischievous teasing inside his head. "How did it feel like to get railed—"
"I did not get railed!" he squeaks, ears blushing red. "I-I was the one who railed her! Right, Y/N?"
There's a laugh bubbling inside your chest as you watch Jake squirm under the relentless teasing of his friends. It felt good to be the one in charge, but after that display of strength and the way he manhandled you last night?
You don't mind having him on top of you.
But the both of you know who's truly in charge.
And if you choose to sit in his lap again, this time grinding and shifting on purpose that he gets hard until the car reaches Seoul, nobody has to know that.
【 18+ 】 tw ──── takayama riki x f!rea . . p in v, headlock, choking, needy sex | 581 wc don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr
taki had you bent over the edge of the bed, knees sinking into the mattress, back arched deep while he fucked you from behind like he was trying to climb inside your body.
“fuck—baby, you feel so good,” he groaned, voice wrecked. his hands gripping your hips hard enough to possibly bruise, pulling you back onto his cock with every brutal thrust. he was usually playful in bed, a little teasing, a little cocky—but tonight something had snapped. he was desperate, hips snapping forward with wet, filthy slaps, sweat dripping down his chest onto your back.
you were already shaking, moaning into the sheets, when he leaned forward even more.
too far.
his chest pressed flush against your back, hot and slick. one arm slid around your throat to brace himself, forearm locking under your chin as he used your body for leverage. it wasn’t on purpose—at least, not at first. he was just so deep in it, chasing that tight heat squeezing around him, that he didn’t realize he’d accidentally put you in a headlock.
his bicep flexed against the side of your neck. his forearm pressed firmly under your jaw, cutting off just enough air to make your head spin.
you came instantly.
the pressure, the overwhelming fullness of him pounding into you from behind, the way your lungs burned and your vision blurred—it hit you like a freight train. your whole body locked up, pussy clenching violently around his cock as you gushed around him, thighs trembling uncontrollably.
taki didn’t stop.
he didn’t even notice.
he just kept fucking you harder, hips slamming against your ass with wet, punishing smacks, low desperate groans falling from his lips right next to your ear.
“shit—fuck, you’re so tight,” he panted, voice hoarse. “gonna cum so deep—wanna fill you up, baby, please—”
his arm tightened a little more without him realizing, forearm pressing harder into your throat as he chased his own orgasm. you were still coming, waves crashing through you, little broken whimpers escaping as your eyes rolled back. your fingers clawed at the sheets, body jerking with every brutal thrust while he fucked you straight through your orgasm like he was possessed.
only when your legs gave out completely and you slumped forward did he finally register something was off.
he froze mid-thrust, buried to the hilt.
“…wait—baby?” his voice cracked. the arm around your throat immediately loosened, sliding down to your chest as he held you up. “fuck—did you—?”
you were still fluttering around him, aftershocks making you twitch, a dazed little moan slipping out.
taki’s eyes widened, realization hitting him like cold water.
“oh my god,” he whispered, voice shaking. “i didn’t— i didn’t even feel you cum. i was so fucking gone i— shit, are you okay?”
he started to pull out, but you pushed back against him weakly, whining.
“don’t stop…please…?” your voice was hoarse from the pressure of his arm. “taki… jus’ keep going.”
he let out a broken sound, half groan, half whimper, and pressed his forehead between your shoulder blades.
“yah… you’re gonna kill me,” he breathed out.
then he snapped his hips forward again, slower this time but just as deep, finally aware of how soaked and sensitive you were. his arm stayed on your throat now on purpose—loose, careful, but possessive—as he fucked you through the rest of it, whispering filthy praises against your skin.
⋅⋆ ──ೀ“Come here, I’ll show you.” {R. Nishimura x reader!}
ೀ Now that you’re together, there’s oh so much to get up to ♡…
ೀCW⋆｡˚ NSFW, no genuinely please be careful reading this because I wrote this in rebellion to the lack of non vanilla Enhypen smut, fem!reader, ur both in college, non!idol au, best friends to established lovers, fluff, you’re dating but in secret, some angst, mentions of mean girls at a certain infamous party, I had to for the one time😂, cursing, tension, possessive!Niki, bickering, “get ur fucking dog!” “He don’t bit—“ “YES TF HE DO” dynamic, teasing, some s7xting, kissing, smut, refers to ur p✩ssy as ‘she’ and ‘her’, f♪ngering, dirty talk my word, an✩l, along with an✩lf|ngering, spanking, spitting, dirty talk, praise, degradation, teaspoon of humiliation, drooling, this one is wet and messier :D, begging, dom! leaning Riki, he’s a cheeky asshat about it though, biting, an✿l play, hick♪es, making out, he’s extra feral, but it’s not his fault he’s just a bit obsessed, panty-sniffing, oral (f.rec), again please be careful reading because he eats the plate too, don’t ever let him near the box again, fuck whatever Roddy Rich said😭, dirty talk seriously, he respects women you two are just freaked out, with that being said— he takes you through there lmao, light mind break, cl♪t bullying, he literally fucks you till you pass out, possible size ki♪nk, bc his c0ck is stuuuupid fa—, multiple ✿rgasms, squ♪rting, one of which happens an✿lly, u like butt stuff and he likes ur butt, manhandling, choking, SAFE sword fighting (wink wink), petnames, hand kisses, cuddling, whiny Niki bc that’s my baby, aftercare, FLUFF at the end
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚wc.7.9k (very sorry)
₊·—̳͟͞͞ ꒰ঌᰔᩚ໒꒱— Pairings— A Chrome Hearts boy and his high maintenance girlfriend that looks like the song “Love Potions”.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ A/N>>> Please read the tags carefully. English is not my first language and editing this was hell so I better get some feedback or ur faves are next😾 and it’ll be BDSM smut
ദ്ദി(๑> ◕๑)~♡‧₊TAGS GO ⋅⋆ ──ೀ @tojiworshipper @quequoiqui @wellidksis
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚
Turns out going from being strictly close friends to dating wasn’t all that difficult.
You were still touchy with each other, still hung out, still play fought— but now with other stuff too. Now you kiss and it makes your heart beat faster every time you think about all of the kissing because Riki was such a good kisser. You did more than kiss too, of course but the point is that you’re dating.
It’s like going from regular Spotify to premium.
The two of you hang out but you also go on dates. Sometimes casual, other times you’re getting a cryptic intentionally nonchalant message to dress up and the time he’s coming by to get you and the next thing you know your being driven out over an hour to some extremely elaborate soirée with all kinds of people dressed just at intricately as you. The stars in Riki’s eyes are different now when he looks at you.
“Beautiful…”, whispered against your forehead right before he kisses it and biting your lip while you hold your breath is all you can do so you don’t scream.
There’s so many new sides to each other you see now that you obviously wouldn’t have when you were just friends.
For example, Riki who on the outside is cool and quiet is actually the complete opposite in a relationship. Whiny when you don’t give him enough attention, whiny when people give you too much attention (like the instagram fiasco). He’s even clingier now— going as far to have an attitude when having to go for long periods of time without you. Completely shameless, he is a man that is not above begging and guilt tripping to make you give in or stay.
“But the last trip was girls only! Why do you have to go to this one? It’s like you never miss me at all🥺😔…”
“I’ll be so lonely…what if I need a hug?” You pinch your lips in to help suppress the smile fighting to show as you look down at the top of his head. Riki lets out a pained groan, shuffling closer on his knees to nuzzle his face harder into your stomach as you wrap your arms around his head.
“Baby, it’s barely two days and you do have friends—“, another pained sigh and you can’t fight the smile anymore. “Ask Kai for a hug if you need one.” He shakes his head so hard, you’re worried he’ll give himself friction burn, long arms tightening around you.
“Noooo! I don’t wanna hug Kai”, he spits his name out like a curse. “I wanna stay with you…” Fuck. He’s too cute. You might lose this one. Taking a deep breath, you don’t say anything else because if you do, you’ll give and he knows it.
“Please, baby?” Resting his chin on your stomach after kissing it, big distraught eyes look up at your swiftly crumbling expression. “Stay— don’t make me miss you, love you too much…” You slam your eyes shut.
K.O. Flawless victory.
He knows he’s won when you cup his face, bangles cool against his cheek when you lean down to place a tender kiss on his lips, softly cooing.
“My poor baby— it’s fine, I can stay. For you.”
Soaking up your attention, he can hardly hide his victorious grin as your phone vibrates on the counter while you scatter lip stain all over his face; your friends waiting for a reply that won’t come until much later. The later being after you’re both in bed with him shirtless because it’s on you. You’re about to go to sleep and he’s wrapped comfortably around you when you gasp, finally remembering,
“I never texted the girls back!” Before you can think about texting them back now, Riki moves you tighter against him, voice low and melodic. “Wait until morning? It’s really late, what if we wake them?” He has a point so you agree to get back to them then.
But don’t you know the flight is in the morning? The same flight he’ll conveniently make sure you forget all about. It doesn’t matter if you already said you’d stay, there’s nothing wrong with some…insurance.
Whenever either of you cancel on your friends, you have to have a suitable excuse because while going from friends to lovers wasn’t difficult…
Keeping your relationship a secret was.
Now, it’s not like you’re ashamed or embarrassed about each other— just neither of you were in the mood to hear the “I told you so”’s from everyone who knew you. In the end, you just liked keeping each other to yourselves. Plus you got enough flak just for being friends with Riki from girls around campus who liked him and you really didn’t want a repeat of the incident from 2 months ago.
It wasn’t a party, per se but a loud social gathering with lots of people, loud music, dancing and drinks. You told him it’d be easier to call it a party even though the mass text said get together but Jackson said he was trying to work on his reputation. How calling the very obvious party a not party helped him? You didn’t have a single clue.
It wasn’t long after arriving that you and Riki split up. He didn’t particularly want to be there in the first place but telling you no was never his favorite thing to do so he tagged along under zero pressure when you mentioned it. He ended up upstairs, sipping the second drink he’s had all night talking to a couple of guys he was friends with on the team when he pulled out his phone and saw the time. 12:47. You got there at 11.
He hadn’t seen you since 11.
Immediately he’s up, drink abandoned on the table. Different people try to talk to him, unfamiliar faces, random girls with too wide smiles and way too much perfume but he brushes them all off— moving with single minded intent. As tall as he is, looking over a crowd is easy but his heart is starting to race because he still doesn’t see you.
Storming into the kitchen, he looks around. There’s a few girls who all turn to look at him when he enters. One even says hi. They’re not you so he can’t be bothered, walking right back out ready to start yelling your name over the music if that’s what it takes when someone bumps into his chest with all the force of a sinner trying to run out of hell.
Looking down, his heart begins to slow because it’s finally you. But now that he knows you’re safe—
“Where the hell have you b—“, when you look up, you’re crying. Thick tears stream down your face, streaking your makeup that he knows took forever while your chest visibly jumps from all the effort it’s taking you not to sob.
His heart stops.
“I-I’m sorry but”, you try to take a deep breath but it only ends in more tears. “We can go h-home now.” Big hands cradle your face, ignoring everyone around you as he tries to calm you down. You’d barely been here two hours and you wanted to leave? Not only was that unlike you but you were crying. Crying and you wouldn’t look him in the eye.
“What happened?”
You keep quiet.
Shaking your head while the answer stays trapped behind your bitten lips. He’d let it go and take you home straight away but something caused this. He can’t let that slide.
“Who did it?” He tries again, voice growing more desperate with each minute that passes where you won’t talk or even look at him.
“Baby, please.” Dark eyes search your face until your red ones look at him.
“Talk to me, look at your pretty face— you’re all upset.” Still nothing. He still tries.
“Who did it? Let me fix it.” Your voice is the smallest he’s ever heard it when you ask,
“Then we can go home?” He nods, thumbs brushing your tear-stained cheeks.
“Then we can go home.” After that, you tell him. There was this group of girls you met in the kitchen and you thought they liked you until one of them had suddenly switched up, telling you that you’re lucky to even know him; let alone be friends.
“A-and that you only hang out with me b-because”, the sob that you were holding back breaks as a fresh wave of tears fall down your face. “Because I’m a hooker..” as in anyone could pay to have you because you were only worth that much. The look on his face is crestfallen, waiting for you to finish. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound so… embarrassed.
“I never said anything because you never made me feel bad but do you? T-think I’m a—“,
He stops you with a gentle kiss to your cheek before you can even think about repeating it.
“I think the world of you.” His voice is so soft, it’s hard to hear over everything but you do. “Dressing sexy, being a flirt, wearing makeup— doesn’t make you easy and none of it makes you a hooker. I never say anything about your style because I love it. Fun and cheeky and a little irresponsible”, that last part makes you laugh.
“But it’s all you, baby. You’re fine as you are.”
You kiss his thumb brushing your lip in silent thanks. It’s way too intimate and affectionate for people who are just friends but looking back it was probably repressed denial.
“Who told you that anyway?” Riki sounds calm—casual. Absolutely concerned too but little do you know his heart is pounding in his chest ready to go find to whoever the fuck made you cry. You shrug, it’s hard to remember her name but you tell him what she was wearing and it clicks when he gets her face in his mind.
The girl in the kitchen. The one who said hi to him.
He hands the keys to his car over so you can wait for him while he goes to grab something he “left”. You don’t find out until weeks later that not only did he tell that same girl that she couldn’t be further from his type; and that drunk and high off of every pill on the planet, he’d still never go for her—but he also told her if she ever so much as looked at you wrong that he’d stop at nothing to ruin any social life she’ll ever have.
To this day— whenever you would manage to see her in the hall, she’d already be turning back around.
That whole scene was a completely new side of Riki you’d never even glimpsed. Such intense protectiveness while staying calming and sweet to you. Then again, he was always sweet to you…except the week he finally had time and remembered to get condoms after promising to fuck you stupid as soon as he did.
That week you were convinced he seriously was trying to kill you.
You were walking back from mess hall when Niki texts you. Short, simple but vague enough to make you pause in your stride.
Come to mines. There’s something I wanna show you.
Heart beating faster, you look around to make sure nobody sees the wide-eyed look you’re staring your screen down with before you make a mad dash out the main entrance. Panting, your fingers fly across the screen as you text back.
Is it for me?
There’s a ping less than a minute later. The first is a photo attachment that makes your breath catch and the next is the message.
Only for you, baby. All of it.
By the time you get to your car, you already feel a mess. The tight burn of arousal simmers in your lower abdomen as you start to drip. It’s embarrassing how you’re hardly able to text him that you’re on your way, fixing your makeup at every red light until it’s even more perfect. After last time, you decided to do lash extensions instead of falsies that wouldn’t make it past round 2 with Riki.
Squeezing your thighs together the whole ride there, by the time you actually arrive you’re soaked through. Puffy, wet and so so warm— clit throbbing with need against the seam of your tight jeans.
Hand to his door, you only get to knock once before it swings open in your startled face and you’re being yanked inside. After toeing off your shoes, he quickly crowds you against the wall. Neither of you say anything right away while Riki takes a slow, good look at you and how gorgeous you look all dolled up the way you always are. He wants to appreciate it a little before he reduces you to the simplest form.
Nerves turn the blood under your skin into an electrical current, pupils steadily dilating as you look at each other, tension thick. Riki breaks first, stepping close to wrap his big hand tight around your throat. Heat slots through your core fast. Slamming into your gut like a cannonball— heavy and unforgiving. You even start to feel dizzy with how suddenly you catch yourself slipping.
His name leaves you in a breathy plea.
You almost trip over your feet when he drags you even closer— directly to his mouth to whisper against your lips.
“Didn’t I promise to fuck you up as soon as it was safe?”
Riki doesn’t wait for you to answer— laving his tongue hotly across your jaw before suckling open, wet kisses up to your mouth. Cushioning your bottom lip between his lips, his mouth deliciously flush to yours– suckling softly before doing the same to your top lip.
It’s slow. Deliberate.
Tilting his head, he deepens the kiss. Tracing his tongue sloppily across the inseam of your parted lips, dipping inside to lick at the corner of your mouth before moulding his tongue against yours when you moan— Riki’s mouth swallowing the sound whole. His other hand caresses down up and down your waist; teasing the underside of your tits with his thumb. Your body is thrumming, livewire as he kisses you like this is the last time you’ll ever want him.
If only he knew how much you always did.
When he pulls away, there’s a thin string of spit connected to your mouths and his lips are tingling because of your plumping gloss. He’s also hard. Well, he was hard 45 minutes before he even texted you to come over simply because he knew you were coming over. Earlier that week he got hard on a random Wednesday because he knew you were coming over Friday.
Loosening his hold a bit around your throat, the quick rush of oxygen makes you throb. Riki lets out a low purr of approval, relishing the way your eyes glaze over.
“Oh you’re gonna be real good f’me…” Your pulse spikes. Hard.
“Just like you were the first time. Remember, baby?” You nod because you would never be able to physically forget. It took your body days to completely calm down after; your pupils would get huge whenever you’d so much as smell a room he’d recently been in. You’d feel him when he wasn’t even around— dripping wet each time.
Riki smiles when you nod, kissing you one more time before swinging you over his shoulder, ignoring your squeal in favor of taking the familiar route to his room. Feeling giddy, you kick your legs just to annoy him. He huffs out an amused laugh, cracking his hand down hard on your ass to still your squirming, making you gasp.
There’s no time to catch your breath though when you’re promptly dropped on the bed, Riki yanks his shirt off—on you right after. Fingers wrap around your ankles as he yanks you down the to the edge where he’s kneeling. Heart pounding, hot puffs of air dance teasingly across your skin with every barely there brush of his pink lips. You shiver at the feeling.
“Y’know”, A harsh suck to the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your pants has you cutting him off with a needy whine. Riki slots his mouth over each bit of skin he exposes as he peels your jeans off.
“I’ve been wantin’ to kiss her forever, baby…”, he rasps.
Nosing down to the center of your wet panties, Riki groans when he sees how wet you are. Arousal darkens the color of your pretty underwear as the fabric clings so much he can see the swell of your clit. Appetizing. You’re all slick and puffy and you smell so fucking good. Pressing his nose to your cunt, he takes a deep lungful of your scent— eyes fluttering closed while his cock throbs in response. Yanking his pants down to relieve some of the pressure, he takes another deep drag of your arousal.
“N-Niki! What’re you-!” Your voice gets higher in your embarrassment but he can’t stop. Even when your fingers twist in his hair, trying to pull him away he stays. Mouth watering, his tongue falls out to lap a hard stripe up your pussy. Pleasure burns hot in your gut, the weight of his tongue dragging your panties against your clit. In a daze, you grind your hips up mindlessly into his face. Hiccuping moans break into a sharp gasp when your panties are torn clean off you so Riki can eat properly.
The effortless show of strength makes you that much wetter, spreading your legs wider as his tongue slips between your slick folds— lapping against your drooling hole.
“Ooh! F-fuck!”
Your fingers in his hair reflexively tighten, Riki hooking your legs over his his shoulders. He’s trying not to get too carried away but you’re so addictive. The most delicious wet dream under his hungry mouth as he teases your clit between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth until you’re arching off the bed. Sucking until your pussy is enflamed and sopping.
Gasping cries blend in with the carnal sounds of him actively trying to lick you into a coma. Your head is spinning. You don’t know if you want to get away or stay right where you are, body writhing in pleasure. It’s not like it doesn’t feel good— the problem is that it’s too good and a possible threat to your sanity.
“Niki!” His name is ripped from your throat in a visceral cry. Body shaking, you beg as coherently as you can to get a break or at least get him to—
“N-not“, your voice cracks, “Don’t suck so har—ah!”
Separating from your bud, Riki kisses the string of spit connecting him away…riiiight before his fat tongue forces its way inside you, writhing and probing against all the right places. Fuck. Your brain turns to mush. A choked moan gets trapped in your chest, thighs quivering. It feels like you’re going crazy. Tensing then relaxing, involuntary bleats escaping when you try to grit your teeth and withstand it.
You can’t tell which is louder; Riki or your pussy. Riki’s sure it’s more than likely him. He’s always been a messy eater on his best day but when he gets his mouth on something he’s been craving? Good luck, babe. Big hands tighten around your waist as he burrows his face deeper between your thighs. You wail, pleasure racing through you when he slips his tongue out your hole only to run devastating long strokes up your slit before lapping at your perky clit in hungry licks before plump lips wrap tight around it.
His earlier vow not to get carried away is nothing but a distant memory now. Hardly a notion.
The taste and smell of you is addicting. You as a whole was another type of hypnotic entirely and that was before he even knew how you looked falling from the highs of vicious ecstasy. But now, ever since having taken you into himself, it’s through you that this new season has unlocked inside of him. You darken the black of his very pupils.
It’s why he’s so starving— so hungry even though you’re pooling into his mouth, sensitive everywhere throbbing beneath his tongue. It’s primal, Riki eats you like he’s trying to tear you apart but he can’t help it. He just wants you so bad and now he’s drowning in you.
Wrecked moans taper into pleading sobs. Hot tears stream down your face as your cunt tightens— pulsing wildly against his ravenous tongue until all the pressure just gives, soaking his mouth when you cum.
Obscene moans and the wet smacking of his lips fill the room but you barely hear it over the ringing in your cotton filled ears— cumming so hard you think you pull something. Each struggling breath prolongs the storm of melting bliss, coating you inside out in a thick haze of heat until you go boneless.
Pinpricks of over sensitivity kick in when he slows down instead of stopping entirely. You’re a gasping sweating, limp mess on his bed as you try to catch your breath and get your limbs to remember their functions. Whining, your fingers in his hair pushy weakly.
“O-okay…”, another lazy lick up your folds, “Enouggghhh—“, Riki looks up and you and falls all over again. Panting through bitten kiss-swollen lips, your hair is mussed, hard nipples poke through your top while your chest heaves and your makeup has started to run a bit. In a rush of heady musk and sugar, your beauty spirals into disarray. He’s purring at this point, kissing your lips one more time before actually separating. Nuzzling your inner thigh contently, he rasps,
“S’ just licking her clean…”. You hold back a scoff. For him to sound so docile like he didn’t just almost lick her off your body is crazy.
Warm pillowy lips make their way up your body in succulent kisses— pausing just long enough to strip your shirt off then his mouth is back to it. Brushing across your collarbone, you pull him into a kiss, tasting yourself with a needy hum. Reaching down, you’re not surprised to find him rock hard but…
“Why’s your dick so wet? Wait, d-did you—!”
Riki doesn’t let you finish because yes—he did but he’d rather be stretching you out then explaining how he came from sucking you off. He doesn’t answer, making sure your earlier question is forgotten; lost to your moan when he slips two fingers in. Thick digits curve up on every sloppy thrust inside you— bullying spots you had trouble even grazing. The wetness is audible, echoing in the room with your whoreish moans.
He wasn’t sure before but as his fingers brush between your cheeks to your other hole— wet from your cum and his spit—he is now. Grinding his fingers in dizzyingly hot pulses, Riki’s voice is wicked. Low and smooth when he purrs out,
“No plug today, pretty girl?”
Your mind goes blank.
“That’s fine, I know exaaactly how my sloppy holes like bein’ stretched out…”.
A third finger squeezes inside, spreading you wonderfully. Shivers wrack your body, wet babbles stumble over your tongue— trying to say something, anything. What that something is, you can’t remember with the way Riki is abusing that aching spot inside you. Greedy eyes take you in, hissing when the hand around his cock tightens, jerking him in uncoordinated strokes.
You’re forced to let go when Riki takes his fingers out to maneuver your legs over his shoulders, pants taken completely off sometime earlier. Tapping the fat, dripping head of his dick on your clit, he almost forgets to reach above you to grab a condom from the small table closest to the bed. Your mouth goes a little dry because he’s big. You saw earlier but it’s still a bit intimidating.
“Pick a hole, baby.” Riki husks down at you, ripping the foil open with his teeth, he rolls it over his length— moaning in unison with you when he slaps it against the heat of your drooling cunt again as you scramble to decide. Unfortunately and unproductively, your lunatic tendencies kick in. The same ones that had you talking back before emerges to pant out—
“Why don’t you pick?”
Teeth flash in a ravenous grin— downright wolfish as he leans down to suck a kiss to the inside of your left knee. Somewhere between the gleam in his eye and the grin should have been your first warning.
“Because if I do”, he kisses your right knee, “I’m picking both and lickin’ em clean when I’m done.” The shocked look on your face is adorable but he’s being serious. You will be absent for the rest of the day and a few of the ones after if you let him pick. That’s the general warning. To you? It’s a challenge.
“Pick then.” Looking at him daringly through your lashes and smeared eyeliner that had been a taste of the ruin to come. Riki has to close his eyes, take a deep breath.
He’s in the middle of counting when you rake your nails down his chest, cooing breathlessly at the red streaks left behind. His eyes snap open when he hears a whiny moan, looking down to find you playing with your nipples. Flicking and squeezing until it almost hurts, staring into his blown pupils with your own. Closing his hand around your throat, Riki feels the racing of your pulse while you squirm.
“Nuh-uh, none of that. Keep talking”, positioning himself at your twitching hole, he squeezes harder. “Get it all out right now, baby— before your messy cunt does all the talking for you.”
Again, you can’t seem to help yourself. Don’t give a second thought to the last straw you trample over with the next sentence.
“Y’want me to beg? Beg for you to fuck me so hard that I’m squirtin’ all ov- nngh!”
Maybe it was your voice, or the way your softness felt underneath him, smooth hands running over him or how he felt sliding between your swollen pussy lips getting wetter with each rock of his hips while you messed with him like the spoiled little thing you are. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. Not when he’s slamming into your crybaby pussy in one merciless thrust.
He might as well have pressed a reset button on you. Jaw dropped open in a piercing wail, your spine arches at how full you are so fast.
“O-oh god—!” That’s all you can get out through your choked sob when Riki grinds his pelvis that’s flush to yours against your clit while simultaneously kissing that spot inside you that makes you tighten more. Slick dripping onto his covers. You’re so cute— struggling to take him and talk your shit even while your cunt cries around him. He’s almost inclined to take it easy on you. Key word is almost.
“That’s right, baby…”
Pulling out a little more so there’s more of that spine tingling pleasure when he slams back in, setting a heavy pace.
“Go ahead and cry for him…”, The grip on your throat tightens as he uses it to slam you down with each thrust before folding you in half so he can kiss you. Needs to kiss you. His mouth is as devouring as it always is, nipping your lips before licking into the wet space to suck your tongue feverishly— pulling away with a filthy grin as he reaches down to strum your clit.
You really start making noise then. Hot, twitching walls squeeze him like slick fist making him growl against your drooling gloss smeared lips, wearing half of the glittery stuff on his own face but most delightfully—
“There you go— there’s my good girl”, The praise is breathed in your gasping mouth; heady sweetness dripping of his words as you lose your mind.
He’s so fucking deep.
You’re completely incoherent when he decides to latch on to one of your puffy nipples and sucks— broad tongue swirling greedily around the bud. Chest caving, a sharp moan bolts from your lips at the stinging bliss and the sound makes Riki suck harder.
Rolling the puffy nub between his teeth, he closes down to bite— searing pain sweetens the lightening racing up your spine as you cry out. You’re so soft, so wet and lovely beneath him; sensitive body jerking spastically while he fucks you until you can’t tell if you’re one person or his entirely. Sobbing out almost tortured groans and whimpers as he gives your other nipple the same treatment. Sucking it like a pacifier before teasing it between his teeth and biting— soothing the leftover sting with generous laps of tongue and another disgustingly deep grind in your pussy.
“I-I…!” You try. You try like hell to tell him that you’re gonna fucking cum but fail because of how tight he’s choking you. The lack of oxygen heightens your sensitivity as your voice breaks and it’s music to his ears. He shifts inside a little and can tell where you end immediately. Weak hands grab his wrist before he watches your eyes roll back, blissed out. The sight drives him crazy.
“Bein’ so fuckin’ good”, lean hips move faster as your nerves scatter. “My good, pretty little slut letting me fuck her just how we need—! S’fuckin tight…” Each pulpy slam of his hips becomes stickier and stickier so he looks down and curses, almost blows his load at the sight. You’re creaming. Hard. Milky slick bubbling around the base of his cock, making a mess on him as you gasp and cry for him.
Words can’t touch how good you feel— floating as Riki’s fat cock carves you out, absolutely battering that gooey spot inside you. At this rate, you’ll cum until you faint from the way he makes you take it.
Riki groans, rutting into you harder as he looks at your fucked out expression.
“Goddamn if you could see you right now- fuck-“ he curses as he feels another wave of slick pour out of your cunt. This time he’s generous enough to let go of your windpipe so you can rasp out his name through wet keens.
“N-Niki!”
“Yeah, baby? Talk t’me”, He’s being an ass with how he talks down to you this time. You both know the chances of you responding coherently are slim with your eyes fighting not to roll back into your skull in bliss but he keeps it up anyways.
“I’m listening….”, and you know that but he’s fucking into that little nook and— “Gonna cum?” A gurgled moan and dead weight is his answer.
“Yeah, you are.”
Grabbing your hips, he moves your legs higher on his shoulders as he slams you down to meet his thrusts, reveling in the way you warble his name— using you like a cock sleeve and you’re pulling him to your mouth because you really are at your limit. Meeting you in the middle, Riki gives you a sloppy kiss, heat burning through his gut while getting closer to the edge with you.
“Sooo deep—”, you slur out, hearts in your eyes as he rolls his hips in a nasty grind that ends up being the final nail in your coffin. Eyes finally fluttering back and before you can warn him— hot squirt is suddenly splashing against Riki as he fucks you boneless. “Oh, good girl..” Fingers move faster against your poor clit. “Theerrre you go, sweetness—“, Baby names pending…
Despite hitting the eject button on your soul, Riki doesn’t stop.
“Shhh, m’not too deep”, the rough drawl has a warm jolt of electricity light up your spine. Pressing a heavy hand down on your stomach until he feels that familiar hardness and you jerk hard, biting your lip to keep from screaming but what kills is the cooing lilt his voice takes on.
“See?” Riki teases against your lips, drilling your sweet spot raw with syrupy cockhead kisses.
“I’m juuust right for her…” Pressing another juicy kiss to your lips, Riki cooes at the hearts in your eyes as you fight to stay with him.
“Bet it feels real good, hmm baby?” He purrs, hips continuing to pump against yours while he puts you through the mattress and you cry out. High and wrecked, the cockdrunk need in the sound makes his cock throb viciously inside you. “Bit of a— ah! t-tight fit but it’s exactly what she needs, pretty”.
Your body is almost vibrating under all the stimulation— pressure building up like a valve wound too tight and Niki rails you like he’s trying to release it. He growls as another gush of wetness bubbles around his length where you’re connected.
“Mmm, is it good?” Groaning with a sloppy kiss in your ear, Riki eases up on your throat so you can answer and when you do, you sound as wrecked as you feel. Words sappy and weighted,
“Feels-“, you smuggle in more air, raspy whine sweet as cotton in his ears. “Feels good”, You sound foreign even to yourself and the pure want— “So big— hurts so good!” It’s uncensored and unrefined and it’s so fucking hot he pummels you even harder— makin’ sure to get niiiiiiice n’ deep, rubbing himself against your spot until he feels your pussy kiss around him.
“Just don’t know when to keep that pretty mouth shut”, Riki grunts. You watch pleasure pull him apart at the seams through tearily glazed eyes, creamy cunt gripping him deliciously. Each twitching pull of your impending orgasm brings him closer to his own end. Heart pounding, it’s like you can’t get close enough— just craving him. You’ve gone limp now in your blissed out delirium— eyes rolled to the back of your empty skull letting your best friend and boyfriend knock every screw you have totally loose before he’s laying himself flat on top of you, body weight luscious and crushing as he’s molding the hard contours of his sweaty body against your soft ones.
There’s a bit of maneuvering but Riki manages to hook your legs even deeper over his shoulders— rocking his hips forward to hit somewhere deeper, tender, hotter and—
How you wail will leave his ears ringing for days.
Wet muscle of your sodden walls push and pull as liquid jets out of you with a force so strong you nearly blackout.
Ears ringing, the lack of oxygen doesn’t make the overwhelming euphoria any easier to deal with. Your moans are nothing short of feral. Visceral and gripping— hungry pussy leaving rings of sloppy cream around Riki’s cock and that’s the last he can take.
His consuming mouth is back on yours with a vengeance as his heart races, hips slamming into yours in a filthy rhythm. Even with his tongue down your throat, mouth suctioned to yours— carnally feral moans still bleed through, engorged cock throbbing violently inside the syrupy hole he’s shoved into when he lets go. Ballooning the condom inside you with how much he cums.
By the end of it, you’re floaty, sweaty and breathless and you’ve never felt better while he’s thinking about whether Blue Nile or Jared Jewelers has the better engagement rings. He also wonders if he should tell you before or after you catch your breath to tell you he’s not done with you yet.
He still remembers all that showing off you did the last time. Spreading yourself before winking your sloppy holes at him, begging him to fuck you dumb. It got him so bad he was taking consecutive cold showers for almost four days until he finally got a break between the team and classes to go shopping. Thoughts drifting to you while he was out on one of his rare days off when he remembered right there in the ramen isle: condoms + hot girlfriend who likes anal = endless opportunities.
He’s pretty sure he scared the cashier from how happy he looked buying 6 boxes of XL condoms with a starry grin on his face but honestly he was just happy he didn’t pop one in target. It was all worth it though because it got you to now— thoroughly enjoyed on his bedsheets.
The next couple minutes are heavenly as Riki loves all over you— soft lips and sumptuous kisses until you’re melty and pliant. Easing your legs down from his broad shoulders, Riki eases himself out of you to slip the rubber off and toss in the bin next to his nightstand. Laying fully on top of you and you purr— arms coiling around him in a soft embrace. Yet as pleasant as the moment is— Riki has to (affectionately) ruin it. Kissing your pulse point, he nips your ear, whispering lowly.
“Turn around…”
Huh? You look at him like he’s crazy. Brows furrowed in disbelief.
“I-“, you don’t even have the capacity to articulate properly. “I didn’t hear that.” Riki laughs, breathy and dangerous, sucking more hot kisses all over your jugular. You sigh to hide your moan, trying to at least look inconvenienced but your traitorous pussy clenches.
“You heard me the first time cause I’m not telling you again, baby— turn around.” Holy shit.
It’s no surprise that you find yourself on your knees, ass raised and back arched with your chest to the bedding. Behind you, Riki lets out a starved groan, looking at the wetness dripping off your everything deliciously. Like a reflex, he brings his hand down on the soft fat of your ass, biting his lip at the jiggle.
“So beautiful”, he whispers against the stinging skin. “Gonna fuck this hole so good…”
Your stomach drops to the chasming heat in your core. Riki eats up every little reaction you give him as your back arches when his fingers press against your asshole. Fingering at the wet, pink little pucker just above your stretched cunt, already dripping with the juices from your pussy— hole yielding perfectly beneath his fingers. Tiny and tight and eager.
Riki eyes it hungrily, cock pulsing when you ask nervously,
“Think it’ll fit?”
Oh, he knows it’ll fit. He’ll make it fit. You’re his mouthy little anal slut and he knows you’ll be begging for it like a bitch in heat so he pushes in a cum slick finger; right up to the knuckle, then another one, pulling them both apart so he can see your twitching wet insides. “So sexy,” he rumbles, a distinct heat rising in his neck. His entire body is on fire with the need to fully claim each one of your holes. He takes his time fingering you open, marvelling at how soft and gooey you are to the point where he has to know.
“Did you play with her today?”
You shake your head.
“Only prep— Just lube a-and my fingers— didn’t have time for toys”, your voice is wrecked from everything he put you through earlier but the hoarseness suits you, especially now.
“Mmm”, he murmurs, twisting his finger inside as he brings his thumb back to your clit, “Can’t go a day without something up here, huh?”
You gurgle incomprehensibly against pillows, eyes rolling and tongue going slack as Riki adds yet another finger. The arch in your back deepens; pushing out your ass begging to be filled with more than just fingers, even though you’d been screaming barely a few minutes before. “F-fuck me…”
“What’s that, sweetheart?” He says it like that on purpose, cocking his head to the side and shoving his fingers in as deep as they’ll go, watching in delight as your asshole stretches around the intrusions, cunt quivering. “What do you want?” Oh that little jackass— he was going to make you say it. You knew he’d get you back for smart mouthing him earlier. However, your want to cum from your ass outweighs your pride.
“Fuck me, pleaseee Niki…”
Unable to hide his satisfaction, Niki smirks. “Tell me where you want it.” Hissing, he hooks both thumbs into your hole and stretches it open, spitting into it as if marking his territory. It’s dirty. Depraved. So why are you handing him another condom and spreading yourself for more?
Riki doesn’t make you wait any longer once the condoms on. With a feral groan, he directs his cock to your asshole and pushes in— the tight ring of muscle yielding under his force. The mouth watering blissful pain of something so big splitting you open shorts your brain as Riki sinks in with one long, deep thrust.
Distantly, you both remember that he’s the first person to get to do this to you. Possessiveness settles deep and crushing into his chest as he grips tighter. Deliriously, you feel so full with Riki’s cock in your ass that you melt. Moaning shakily with a mouthful of pillow.
“Ready f’me to fuck you stupid?”
He doesn’t wait for you to answer because he knows what the answer is. Gripping your fat ass in both hands he draws out his cock, greasy and dripping in a mix of your juices, until only the head is spreading your deliciously raw hole open. Then he slams in, hard, sending the most gorgeous shriek rolling from your tongue. Body shaking with dry, heaving sobs— your insides flutter and clench impossibly tight.
“I’m gonna die,” your slurred keen drawls listlessly. Your mind fades. As soon as Riki’s cock had slid into you your brain had switched off; leaving you vulnerable to the most carnal sensations. Your body is trembling, burning—each organ churning and each bone rattling like trees in the wind. Fingers twitching weakly at the covers.
Gone.
You’ve been utterly and completely wiped blank.
With enough effort you might be able to go on with life after this, but you know it will never be the same. You’ll spend your days daydreaming about eternity in this moment. Reliving flashbacks until your body reacts and your knees go so weak with pleasure you almost collapse.
Niki rears over you, hips starting up an unforgiving pace. With each brute thrust you grow limper, melting like warm honey beneath his hands and it’s beautiful.
“Told you it’d fit,” Niki groans, feeling you choke his dick like a vice. “Told you it’d fit and now look at you”, he pants, “Loving it…”
He has you in the palm of his hand, perfect and sweet and hes pumping and thrusting— pounding until you’re dripping and destroyed and as succulent as ripe fruit ready to burst.
Gripping your hips, Riki bends himself over the your pliant form, once again using his weight to drive the full force of his thrusts deep into you; licking a rough, wet stripe from mid-spine to the nape of your neck. At the shift of angle you let out a weak scream, shoulders shuddering.
“Probably gonna cum too, yeah?”
You choke on something that doesn’t even sound whole, dripping messy rivulets of slick all over his balls.
“That’s what I thought…”
Muscles draw tight as he feels you cum beneath him. You cum on a scope so intense he half expects you to begin foaming at the mouth but all that spills from between your lips is thick, viscous drool. Your sweet face is contorted in pleasure, hair glowing and dishevelled, body shining and slick with sweat and cum as it thrashes. Soft hips hump back wildly on his cock, spraying that same liquid as before— drenching you both to the point where the bedding is soaked through.
A sound leaves you – some sort of sound – but it’s foreign to his ears; almost animal in nature, something inexplicably deep and primal. It’s a noise that sets his entire body alight, a deep rumble echoing in his bones.
“F-fuck, baby”, He’s so close. “Take it…”
Riki’s grip is iron as he fucks himself in the tight, sucking grip of your ass until release breaks through. Throwing his head back with a ruined groan, molten heat washes over him as holds himself deep inside you and cums. Heavy ball draw up tight as he releases load after load, flooding the condom to the point it’s leaking out the sides and dripping in thick white globs onto the unsalvageable sheets. It’s so good. You’re so good. Each tendon in his neck is taut, each vein pulsing against the skin. You cum again at the sensation, jerking weakly beneath Riki, half sobbing into the wet pillows pressed against your face.
The room is sweltering by the time you’re officially done. Consciousness dips in and out while you try to stay awake but it’s a swiftly losing battle. You can’t feel your legs or your back. Riki’s still nuzzling into the back of your shoulder blades until he notices how still you are.
Turning you gently onto your back, he takes one look at your face and decides he’ll tell you later you’re spending the night. Peppering soft kisses to your cheeks, he calls your name until your eyelids flutter back open and his heart soars in relief.
“Oh god there you are”, he’s like a big dog as he smooches wet kisses all over your face. “I thought I killed you.” A punched out wheeze slips free. You don’t even have the energy to muster sarcasm.
“I thought you were trying to.”
He at least has the decency to look sorry, hands massaging down your body to check— “Does anything hurt?” You shake your head slowly, another wave of dizziness hitting you before your eyes slip shut on his panicked expression.
•
•
•
When you finally wake up, you’re clean and dry on a soft surface that’s also dry in a huge shirt with a sizeable weight on top of you. Moving, a sharp twinge races up from your lower regions making you hiss. The sound alerts the one on top of you as your face is suddenly being held and you find very big, very guilty eyes staring back at you.
“Baby!” You feel bad for thinking how cute he is all worried like this. “I’m so sorry”, squirming on top of you, Niki is practically in your lap apologizing as he scoots back a breath to hand you a cold bottle of—
“Orange Gatorade?” He nods, kissing your forehead before nuzzling back into your neck.
“Yeah. It’s supposed to help with electrolytes and stuff.” The confused look doesn’t ease off your face so he continues,
“Y’know…since you lost a lot of flui—“, slapping a palm over his mouth you nod sharply.
“Yep. I get it.” He watches you expectantly and that’s when it clicks. He’s waiting for you to drink it now. Handing the bottle back so he can open it, you take a few sips, humming at the light taste before leaning up to kiss him, voice soft and soothing.
“It’s good. Thank you for taking care of me, Niki”.
Riki’s heart does that strange thing it does when he’s around you. Like it flips before bursting into a cloud of butterflies and he’s so glad you like him back like this. You scared him so bad when you just passed out— unresponsive no matter how many times he called your name and the only thing he had to soothe him were the deep, rhythmic rises of your breathing.
Your hands rake through his now clean hair as he tightens his hold around you, suddenly sleepy in the warmth of your company. His voice is uncharacteristically vulnerable when he asks, pressing a similar tender kiss to the back of your other hand in his.
“Can we stay like this for a little bit?”
You nod but you can’t help but wonder…
How long should you date before you tell him that he’s welcome to stay forever?
! Didn’t like this as much as I thought I would so genuinely apologizing bc I might delete soon(like very soon) wait nvm I just didn’t like the colors lmao
“saturday. new year’s party. jake’s throwing it. be there or be square.” riki says, pushing the front door open to your house. he drops his keys on the counter, and takes the bag slung over his shoulder dropping it by the coat rack. his kicks
his shoes off into the corner before walking to where you laid on the couch, pulling his shirt off in one smooth motion and leaving it on the ground.
he quickly crawls over on the couch, pushing himself between your legs before taking your phone from your hand and dropping it on the floor. the bulge in his pants was stiff against your pelvis, leaving you no space to try and escape. “now strip.”
you looked at him in shock as he hovered over you, his chest rising and falling through the heavy heaving of his breath, his shoulders and neck slick from the sweat that fell, his muscles and veins prominent. his hair fell in his face, sticky to his clammy forehead, his shaky hands pushing the hair back, the strands becoming more wet as they slide through his fingers. his eyes were heavy on you, like if he had waited his whole life just to get his hands on you right in this moment.
“well hello to you too nishimura riki! my day was absolutely beautiful, i am so goddamned glad you asked! the weather was just phenomenal for a typical winter day, i was even able to take a walk to the post office to send off my mail. and it’s not even supposed to snow again for another week! can you believe it?” you speak thickly with sarcasm, crossing your arms and squinting your eyes at him.
riki groans and sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes and he throws his head back. “c’mon don’t be so hard-headed i need this right now.” he says. “and i need more context about this new year’s party. you can’t just walk in here and tell me
i’m going to a party and then try to fuck me, i need context you filthy animal.” you say.
“the spot is by 36th street. right on the corner of grand concourse.” riki says. “wait, jake is throwing a party on grand concourse? by 36th? that’s a very… flattering… area.” you say. “yeah i don’t know all the details. all i know is we have to be there. who doesn’t wanna party on new years?” riki asks.
“maybe i don’t wanna dress like a slut in this cold and go get drunk for what’s basically a day closer to the world ending.” you shrug. “bruh, just do it for jake. clearly you won’t do shit for me.” riki rolls his eyes.
“you stormed into my house and told me to strip. and you think you deserve some kind of reward for that?” you say, your tone and attitude shifting into a lower level, seducing him with intention. “you really think boys who don’t respect their women get what they want?”
riki furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head, not amused in the slightest. “i see what you’re doing, and it’s not gonna work.” he shakes his head. you shrug your shoulders with a small smirk. “i guess you’ll just have to cope with yourself then, yeah?” you say, leaning down and picking your phone off the floor and turning your attention back to the screen.
without ever turning to look at him, you slowly
slide your inner leg out from between riki and the couch, slowly dragging your foot down his bare chest, skin sticking together from the sweat, and resting it right on his clothed, hard cock.
riki let’s out a shaky sigh as he watches your foot move down his half naked body, letting out a small hitched gasped as you landed it on his crotch. immediately his gaze swings back around to your face, desperate after seeing you not even looking at him as you tease him direly.
“‘m sorry.” he chokes out. “hm?” you hum, slowly turning your head to face him, taking your sweet time to remove your eyes from the screen to meet his. you feel riki’s hand move down to your foot, his hips bucking forward slightly as your leg applies slight pressure to the area. “i said i’m sorry. it won’t happen again i just- please. please, i’ve been like this all day and i just can’t get it on my own.” he continues. “can’t get what on your own?” you ask, faking your innocence and hoping to push a reaction out of him.
he rolls his eyes and turns his head away from you, his hand sliding from under his nose and down his folded lips. “hm?” you hum again, your outer leg locking around his hip, your inner leg sliding gently up and down his stiff cock, forcing a painfully needed friction through his jeans. “ah- mm, oh fuck..” he groans under his breath, rambling between quiet moans whimpers.
“use your words baby.” you say, tilting your head as you stare at him with those babydoll like eyes. you prop yourself up on your elbows, raising your right hand to caress his cheek.
“needa cum inside you..” he mumbles weekly, leaning his cheek more into your hand as he falls apart at your feet-literally.
“that’s all i needed to hear.” you smile. immediately you stand from where you’re body sits, dropping to your knees as riki adjusts himself on the couch to face you. you take the hair tie from your wrist, tying your hand back in a painfully slow motion, stringing along the anticipation as riki groans. his knee bounces at a quickened pace, his fingers fiddling with his belt as he seems you lean in.
with no time to waste, you find yourself unzipping the fly of his jeans, leaving kisses and little bite marks on the skin around his v line as you pull his denim and boxers down in such a tedious manner. his hands meet your hair as his cock springs free, hard and needy, the tip already leaking of pre-cum. “c’mon mama, i said sorry. don’t make me wait anymore.” he hummed, his eyebrows knitted together and the frown on his face so truly distressed. “you’re such a needy baby today.” you say, faking him a frown. “please..” he chokes out, his hand pushing your head closer to his forsaken cock.
finally, you give in, licking a long stripe from the bad to the tip, sliding the flat part of your tongue along the drooling pre-cum at his slit.
riki lets out a sigh of pleasure and relief, his hips twitching in response as you gently take as much of his length physically possible in your mouth. your hands roam across his chest and torso as your head slowly starts to bob back and fourth at a slow pace.
“shit, like that, mmyeah, just like that..” he moans out, his hand guiding your head as he throws his head back onto the couch. he brings his free hand to his forehead, pushing his hair back as he groans lowly.
you picked up the pace as you hear his noises continue to stir up in his chest, taking the shaft
into your hands, stroking it quickly as you leaves desperate kitten licks at the tip. his hips jerk up a bit as his grip in your hair tightens, each grasp and grip at your head forcing your ponytail to
come looser and looser. he lets out a quiet moan, his head circling over to the side, his eyes low and dark as his whining becomes a ramble.
you taking him fully back into your mouth, allowing him to control wherever he wanted you next. he bucks his hips forward as you bob your head downward, meeting your mouth at the halfway point mid-air with each thrust.
“‘m so close, please ‘m gonna cum..” he moans, his cock hitting the back of your throat over and over as your eyes start to water up. you gag and choke as he moves, in and out, in and out, over and over again, not letting up for even a second before pulling out from between your lips and releasing on your face.
you let your tongue fall out of your mouth as the sticky white liquid soaks your lips and chin for a moment. you want for a moment as riki’s arms raise, him dropping them over his eyes and forehead as he breathes heavily through the aftershock. you lean forward placing a kiss on his hip, your pink lipgloss leaving a light red stain right where his v-line start. he lifts his arms from his face, looking down at you as you move, seeing you then rest your head on his thigh. “so. do you want me on the counter, the bed, or should i just bend over the arm rest here?” you smile smugly.
all the meanwhile, evan eleven closed down for the night, leaving no one but jake to keep heeseung company in his old tarnished apartment after many hours of hard work. hard work being, selling chips to strangers every few hours, and heroine to crackheads every five minutes.
“so, the new years party is happening right up the street of grand concourse.” jake says wandering over from the living room into heeseung’s bedroom. his friend laid on the naked mattress, box spring creaking with every movement. heeseung drops his phone down next to him, pulling the fuzzy blue blanket upto his waist as he turns to lay on his side. his elbows sits up enough for his head to rest on it, facing jake. “grand concourse? what’s this, some kinda fancy mansion party to ring in the big 27?” heeseung asks.
“close! it’s actually a fancy condo party. some old guy said he’s got an open apartment next door to his own, and he owns the building. he said if i can make him some bread with this next party he’ll let me move in for free!” jake smiles, leaning against the doorway. “look at you jakey boy, getting your life together. and all it took was a dog.” heeseung smiles. “what can i say? she’s my girl.” jake says, looking back at the kitchen table.
layla sat in a chair in front of the table not too far in the distance. she sat with her tongue hanging from her mouth, paws on the table. the look in her eye was hearty and potent, staring at jake as if she was waiting for him to speed his way over and give her all the affection in the world. she loved him as much as he loved her.
“there’s not a single thought behind those eyes.” heeseung starts. “she gets it from her daddy.” he jokes. jake laughs rolling his eyes. “oh whatever.” he says.
“so, party’s saturday. i can supply up the next few days and get the kiddo to make some plays while i run door with security. then i’ll go in and we can switch.” heeseung starts, picking up his phone from the bed again and opening his messages. “absolutely not, niki is not standing at that door. what if… they… show up? no. bad
for business.” jake shakes his head. “well if they show up they’ll just get their heads blown off smooth, nothing too crazy. they know better then to come up to me. especially not about my boy, i catch bodies for my boy.” heeseung says. jake’s faces falls almost instantly, his heart starting to beat roughly. he knew how deeply heeseung felt for riki… and he also knew something he wasn’t supposed to.
“i think it would be better if you both just stay inside and let my security handle them if they pull up. i’m gonna make a ban list. it’ll be okay.” jake nods. “you gotta remember ikeu, this isn’t no regular spot in the ghetto. sure it’s in the hood but this is a decent condo, one you could possibly be living in if this goes well. i don’t think you should put your ass on the line over them.” heeseung says. “what if they pull up in ski’s and try to air shit out? security can’t catch them if they’re covered up. they don’t know them like we do.” he asks. “that’s why everyone’s getting pat down and scanned with the wand. no weapons allowed.” jake says.
“doesn’t bypass the ski masks jake.” heeseung says. “i’ll have sunghoon stay at the door until we close entry. he knows them like the back of his hand and can point them out from a mile away. he’ll be able to get them out while keeping his composure. it’ll be just fine.” jake says. “now that’s a plan i can get down with. but that also arises a other issue, it means sunoo might wanna stand at the door with him, and the door isn’t a place for a sweet little lady-boy like him.” heeseung starts.
“y/n is coming. she’ll keep him entertained for the time being sunghoon is away. all will be well.” jake says, heading over and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “speaking of her, did you see the group chat last week? what does any of that even mean?” heeseung asks. jake’s eyes flash around the room avoiding eye contact as he feels his palms start to clam up. his mouth grows watery with his throat somehow still dry, trying hard to choke back his saliva over and over again.
“i don’t even know.” jake shrugs. “what does sunghoon even mean by a date? are the fucking or something?” heeseung continues to retort. “that’s a great question.” jake spits out fastly, nodding his head quickly. “i was gonna talk to her at the party but, i don’t know what they even have going on anymore.” heeseung frowns, looking away from jake.
jake pauses for a minute, seeing the length of disappointment held in heeseung’s eyes. his downturned smiled was usually a sweet one, typically a look he gave when the muscles in his face couldn’t help but grin, his brain trying to force back the smile. this time, it wasn’t ingenuine. there was something so authentic to his current expression, an expression of sadness so deep, he was clearly trying to brush it off. it hurt jake’s heart to see his friend so disappointed.
on the inside, jake knew too much. he knew he knew too much. his brained moves at the speed of light trying to cook up some kind of answer. something that wouldn’t hurt heeseung’s feelings more, but still wouldn’t consist of spilling his every unknown secret. it was a retraction straight to the left and right hand again, knowing, and unknowing, honestly, and deceit, friendship, and loss, on and on and on and on circling his brain, and it ate away at him because he had to respond eventually-
he had to say something at some point-
he needed to find the right words-
he had to say something-
something, anything-
say something!-
“hey, jake? say something!” heeseung spoke, throwing his pillow at jake. “you’re going blank man, wake up.”
“right, i’m sorry. my bad. i don’t know what just happened there…” jake answered, tossing the pillow back at heeseung. “dude you have got to stop picking at your scars.” heeseung says, getting up and going into the draw across the bed. he took some wipes and a bandaging from a small box hidden beneath his laundry. “give me
your hands.”
jake took a deep breath and looked down at his hands. his palms sat red and irritated. the blood seeped slight through some of the cracks, the cuts burning at they hit the oxygen. “fuck, i didn’t realize i was-“ jake start, before heeseung cut him off.
“it’s okay. you don’t have to worry about it. i think it’s just time to start covering them again so you don’t get tempted to do this.” he says, kneeling in front of the other. he wipes the blood from the pads of jake’s hands before wrapping the bandages from over his palms, behind his knuckles, and back around again. jake nodded, letting out a shaky sigh as he watched heeseung’s motions.
heeseung looks up at jake, seeing his bands sticking to his forehead and his expression distressed. he lets out a light sigh before tilting his head up and pushing the hair from his face. “relax. i got you. everything is okay. yeah?” he whispers. jake nods and smiles a bit, taking a moment to calm himself.
jake sits with a foul churning in his stomach. the guilt of knowing when heeseung deserved to know the most made him feel nauseated and sick, but sitting at the same table was the fact that riki clearly wasn’t serious about this girl. he’s never been serious about any girl. jake knew what heeseung wanted. he knew what he deserved.
“i think you should talk to her heeseung.” he says. “really? i don’t wanna waste my time or embarrass myself..” heeseung starts. “you could never embarrass yourself. come on, you’re lee heeseung. evan in the flesh. you’re the coolest person i know and any girl who’s ever gotten the chance with you is beyond lucky.” jake smiles. “aw c’mon jake man, you don’t gotta glaze me.” heeseung says, his ears a bit flushed. “i’m not glazing. it’s true. and besides, worst case scenario is, she friendzones you and things go right back to how they were. she’s a sweet girl. she would never throw you in the mud, especially not after how close you both have gotten. and who knows? maybe she’ll just let you take her out one day. but you won’t know unless you talk to her!” jake says.
heeseung finishes wrapping the bandages over jake’s hands, and stands back in place. his stretches quickly and adjusts his posture before landing his hands on his waist and looking back and jake. “you’re right jake. i shouldn’t miss what could be a good opportunity. and i mean, the group chat could’ve just been teasing for all we know. they could’ve just been hanging out and things were taken out of proportion.” he says.
“exactly! that’s the spirit! just keep that thought in mind, it’s not like that between them and they aren’t even talking to each other at all!” jake says, standing and smiling. “now c’mon buddy, we’ve got a party to plan and a girl to get!” he says, taking heeseung by his hand and rushing him out the front door, layla quickly following behind.
this his words of encouragement and cheeky smile, jake held a deep and vile regret. every time he lied to heeseung, an angel would lose its wings. but he couldn’t break his best friend’s heart. not after his own heart was broken as harshly as it was.
before you knew it, it dawned upon you. the final day of the year, the day of what could be jake’s hottest gig ever thrown. you walk through the party greeting those of in which you know, to your surprise, lara standing against a wall with a red solo cup in hand.
“lara? what are you doing here?” you asked, walking over to her. “hey girl, been a minute since we talked. i just missed our little group we had. i was looking for an excuse to see you and sunoo.” she nods. “trust me, we miss you too.” you say, a small smile on your face.
“i talked to manon about everything and honestly… she’s being ignorant as shit. she’s the one who ended it but for some reason just can’t let it be.” lara shrugs. “i think she’s pissed off because everyone we know was planning to come here all week, and kept bringing up how this might just be his crib now.”
“i get it somewhat. it’s not fun to hear about your ex all over the place, especially when she begged him to get his shit together so they could be together.” you say. “yeah well, she fucked k.” lara says, spinning her drink in her hand as she looks at the cup awkwardly. “what?” you question.
“yeah. the night jake hung out heeseung after not seeing him for days… because he was spending time with her.” lara continued. “what?” you question again, your tone in further shock. “mhm. in the same bed jake was sleeping in.” lara finishes. “what.” you say, your voice dropping, no longer sounding confused.
lara nodded. “listen, jake’s done some messed up stuff, okay. but saying you’re gonna get your shit together and never keeping your word is different from sleeping with the guy that got your friend arrested.” she says. “she cheated on him.” you choked out.
“mhm. and i can’t get down with that. shit is fucked.” lara says. you open your mouth to speak, you feel a hand on your shoulder, turning your head to see the tall familiar figure sliding his arm over the back of your neck.
“what’s poppin’?” riki smiles, hugging you lightly by your side. you lean over into him, keeping the hug quick and easy before speaking. “manon cheated on jake??” you say. “oh yeah, that’s the only reason he dipped. that bitch trippin’ lately.” riki nods. “and you didn’t tell me???” you say, pushing his arm away. “what? he asked me to keep it low. he didn’t want everybody and their mom to find out. i gotta hold it down for my boy.” he says.
“i get she was frustrated but come on, man. he spent three weeks in her house, no parties, no drugs, no horseplay and in that active time she had a another dude in her bed. a snake ass bitch at that, i’ll kill that bitch this time if i see him again. choosing him is crazy work, she just wanted to hip dick.” he continues. “i just can’t believe she went that low. he loved her since they were in middle school.” you chime in. “he never looked at another bitch again after he met her.” riki rolls his eyes. “i don’t get how you do that to someone like him. bro’s cute and sweet.”
“well i hope she’s knows we are definitely not friends now that i know that.” you nod toward lara. “yeah i’m making my distances. those are just levels of low i never expected her to go to.” lara says.
a few seconds later, your small group is joined by another person. a pale girl, curly hair in a half up-half down ponytail. she wore a bralette butterfly top, with her leather black shorts to tie on with her heeled boots.
“lara we should take another shot, there’s a guy over there with a huge bottle of tequila and i think if we flirt we could get a shot or two-“ she speaks as she walks over, lara’s eyes widening at riki while she registers the voice. you look at riki confused, his eyebrows furrowed and lips as he looks at lara.
“oh, hey niki! long time no see, how ha e you been?” the girl asks, moving on closer to riki. “hey dani. doing alright, taking on freedom. living the life.” he nods, his answer short and sweet.
you look at lara as the girl nearby seems to ignore your presence, too focused on riki as if he was some kind of celebrity. you look at lara confused, tilting your head a bit. immediately lara takes her by her arm, forcing her to take a few steps back. “y/n, this is daniela.” she says.
“oh, right, hi! you can call me dani.” the girl finally seems to acknowledge you.
“i’m y/n. i don’t have a nickname.” you joke, riki snickering and rolling his eyes. daniela’s eyes flicker back and fourth between the both of you, before she speaks again. “so how do you know niki?” she asks. “i’m sunghoon’s best friend.” you say. “you could say we talk.” riki nods.
you suck your teeth and slap his shoulder with the back of your hand, earning a small laugh out of him. “what? you want me to lie? yeah i don’t know this girl.” riki shrugs. “you stick to the funny jokes, man.” you say.
daniela’s face struggles to hold an amused expression, her eyes continuing to flicker back and fourth between you. “mhm yeah, niki is so funny. get your friends! there’s an empty room and i’ve got a bottle. let’s spin this shit!” daniela says.
the small group formed agrees to the idea, and head off to find the rest of your friends. as you separate to head off, you watch riki take a step forward. you move in order to follow him, daniela turning her body, blocking your step and matching her pace to his as they begin to walk off in deep conversation.
lara quickly walked to you, wrapping her arm in yours with that same awkward expression on her face. “so, there was one thing i forgot to imply about her during the introduction…” lara starts. “what?” you ask her, you confused and flat tone extending the word. “daniela and niki know each other because they dated before he got locked up. she was the only girl he ever made his girlfriend.” lara says.
you stomach drops with a gulp. “oh.” you say. “she’s the only girl he’d spin back on even after they broke up.” she’s continues. “oh.” you repeat, your tone mellowing out. “he’s even called her in jail.” lara continues. “oh.” you repeat. “and they fuck every time they see each other.” she finishes.
you take a deep breath as you feel the muscles in your arms tense up from the pressure in your fists. “oh. oh okay.” you say.
alas it was, the circle of doom. all of your utmost dearest friends sat around the circle as the bottom of terror laid right on the center.
“okay we can’t start yet. manon is coming.” daniela says, looking at her phone as she sits right between lara. and sunoo. “wait, what?” you asked. “what is she here?” heeseung sits up, seeing jake’s face fall into anxiety immediately.
“what? she wants to play. she came to the party. everyone else was. oh look, she’s coming.” daniela smiles. manon struts into the room like she owns the place, taking her seat between daniela and jungwon. “okay! we can start. let me explain the game-“ daniela starts.
“jeez, is she in charge of everything…?” jay murmurs, leaning toward sunghoon. “i heard that. and i’ll be in charge of whatever i want. who even are you?” you asks. jay reaches into her pocket, pulling his wallet from it and flipping his badge down into visibility. “the police.” he snarks. “woah, who the fuck invited the feds?!” she asks, looking around at the shockingly calm crowd.
“jake himself. i’m riki’s parole officer. we go way back. i could shut this shit down at any point, so i recommend you watch how you speak to me.” jay says, pushing his wallet bc into his pocket. you let out a small giggle, seeing jay smile and shake his head in your direction.
“alright, chill. basically, someone will spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on they have to do dare with that person based on the collectives agreement.” daniela says. “there are two rules. first, majority rules on the dares, but if no one speaks up and disagrees within 10 seconds all goes. and second, more importantly, no going back on any dares. you do them or you’re out. got if?” she asks.
the group collectively agrees, moments later jungwon deciding to start. a big out of character for him to start, let alone even be caught dead in a circle for a game like this, but screw it. you do anything off shots of hennessy and a pint of don julio.
as jungwon spins the bottle, you watch his quickly gaze around the room at each person, scoping the scenery. after being joined by more f daniela’s friends-sophia and megan, you sit with six girls, seven boys. it was even enough to make the game to work. but as the bottle spun, all jungwon would consider how this could be a mistake, and how this could easily turn into one of jake and heeseung’s dirty film fantasies. still, there were enough girls to avoid it. the chances may be low, but never zero.
as the bottle slowed, it spun in reverse speed until finally landing on sophia. “ooh good, you don’t know each other. jungwon hit the nic and blow it into sophia’s mouth!” daniela spoke, pulling the pineapple flavored vape from her pocket and waving it at jungwon. “wait, i don’t vape-“ jungwon starts. “who cares, just don’t inhale. do it, do it!” she cuts him off, handing him the vape.
as jungwon goes ahead and commits to his end of the dare, you and sunoo look at each other truly bewildered and baffled. she hadn’t even given the group a chance to object this lame excuse of a high school level dare, breaking her own rules. and besides, wasn’t this supposed to just be a silly game of spin the bottle? where did it become such a serious game?
you and sunoo rolls your eyes quickly as you turn your heads back to the bottle, noticing daniela kneeling back in her spot after spinning it. you and the surrounding party watch the bottle with extra focus at it starts to slow. before you can even blink, the nozzle of the empty bear bottle sits with a direct point at you.
daniela rolls her eyes at the bottle skips over riki and sits a direct point at you, her mouth quickly
fixing itself to work herself out of the predicament. “y/n sit in jake’s lap for the rest of the game!”
“woah!” heeseung says, his eyes flashing between jake and manon, who is visibly becoming uncomfortable. “hold on, you said whoever spins and whoever it lands on have to complete a dare together. you’re breaking your own rules.” sunghoon chimes in. “well new rule, if whoever spun doesn’t wanna commit to the dare can dare the person it landed on to do something else!” she says.
jake’s poor little drunk face was flushed and hot, his high and anxiety clashing with one another. his heart raced in all the wrong ways, his chest feeling tight and his muscles tensing up. he looked at heeseung helplessly, the feeling of his fuzzy, drunk brain forcing him into a state incapable of even forming words to match his emotions.
heeseung looks at jake sweetly, nodding at him softly as he places his hand on his shoulder. your eyes flash from daniela, to jake, to manon and back again before you finally speak. “i don’t think this is a great idea.” you shake your head. “oh come on y/n. this is fun, just go sit in his lap. don’t be the larp that taps out on her first dare.” daniela says.
you glance over at manon, seeing her looking down at her hands awkward. you peak at riki, his eyes glued to his phone, like if he didn’t even care someone was pressuring you into sexual activities you didn’t really care for. you sigh at you look straight at sunghoon. his face is stone, eyes locked into yours. he raises his eyebrows for a moment, nodding his head in the direction of the door-as an offer to leave.
“oh god, just tap out then-“ daniela starts, her patience getting the best of her. “fine.” you cut her off, crawling over into jake’s direction. “perfect! i knew you weren’t pussy.” daniela mocks.
you look at jake for a moment before you sit. his cheeks and ears a flushed color, his shoulder and and body shivering a bit, some of his stray bang hairs sticky to his face from the sweat lingering on his forehead. he was completely plastered, no line of defense present even if he wanted to try and stop this.
you lowered yourself onto his lap, his left hand immediately finding your waist and pulling you closer to him. he leaned forward, resting his head on your back, eyes shut tightly as he breathed heavily against you skin. your hands found his, taking his left hand in your right, your left hand rubbing the skin on the back of his hands for moral support.
“okay next! who’s spinning? jake’s turn right?” daniela asks. jake doesn’t bother to lift his head. he shakes it in place, denying any idea of contributing to this hell spawn of a game. “i’m drunk.” he mumbles. “new rule!” daniela announces. “this bitch is making shit up as she goes.” jay shakes his head. “if you don’t spin you have to take a shot!” she continues. “absolutely the fuck not, you’re gonna make me throw up. just make niki spin or something.” jake says. “jake you’re a genius!” daniela says, the grin on her face wide. “niki, spin!”
riki looks up from his phone, moving his eyes only across the circle before leaning forward to spin the bottle.
with your luck, it slows further and further, your eyes following as it landed directly where you dreaded. you hoped and prayed it over turn over a bit further, but of course, it lands to the girl directly across from you, daniela.
megan and sophia giggle a bit as it lands on him, daniela hushing them quietly. sunghoon furrows his eyebrows at riki, seeing the evil smug smirk sneak its way on to his lips. your eyes don’t leave the bottle. if you look anywhere else the anger will be written all over your face.
“perfect. niki, come kiss me.” daniela speaks, her tone thick with seduction. your eyes widen as she speaks, along with many others in the group. “hell nah, this bitch is just doing what she wants.” jay says, and everyone knows jay doesn’t use the world bitch very lightly, or even at all.
“you can’t pick your own dares captain slut bucket, you’re not even playing by the rules you created.” sunoo rolls his eyes. “oh relax, it’s just a game.” she says. “it doesn’t matter, you can’t just-“ sunoo starts, before riki cuts him off. “it’s fine. i’m not pussy.”
as the forsaken words fall from his mouth, your eyes finally lift away from the bottle. when you finally get back into touch with your association to reality, you realize riki is already with his tongue halfway down her throat.
it’s not a light kiss, of course they couldn’t keep it short and sweet. they made out ever so slowly, holding themselves up on all fours as the sounds of their lips smacking together acted as lighter fluid to the match setting your home aflame actively.
when they separated, riki glances at you, wiping his bottom lip with the back of his hand. you hold the eye contact as long as you can before he breaks it, letting it be known the last thing you will ever fear is a man like him.
“well, wasn’t that an awesome fucking game, would you looks the time? 11:55, just five minutes until the countdown! we should absolutely move our sorry asses right to the main room!” heeseung says, breaking the awkward silence. the group surrounding agrees, sunghoon and sunoo immediately making their way to you as they stand. you and heeseung work together to help an overwhelmed and faint of hearted jake back to his feet before heeseung brings him to the main party room.
“girl what the actual fuck was that???” sunoo starts. “some bullshit. she and riki used to fuck.” you say, turning to them. “yep, and this is her attempt to spin back on him. i’m proud of you though. you didn’t jump on her like i thought you would.” sunghoon says. “i dissociated the whole thing.” you say, watching riki watch out the room. you quickly start to follow behind him as you speak again, “i’m gonna deal with his ass though.”
the main room is full, watching the one minute timer count itself down on the big screen. all your friends stood around you, everyone seemingly so joyful about the new year, and unfortunately you’re unable to share that feelings. you stand in the center of the room with riki, who’s already rolling his eyes before you speak.
“are you fucking kidding me riki?!” you start. “can you relax, it was a game.” he says, his eyes red and heavy as he speaks. “just a game, meanwhile you made out with her! and she’s your ex?! and you didn’t even plan on telling me?!” you continue.
“i don’t have the mental capacity to argue with your ass right now.” he shakes his head. “yeah clearly you’re fucking delayed! look at your eyes riki, what the fuck did you take?!” you question. “i popped half a xan before the game, could
you just chill for five minutes? it’s at 20 seconds. i wanna enjoy the first few seconds of the big 27. and maybe if you stop nagging we can kiss at midnight.”
your grip on your purse strap is as tight as it’s ever been. the flame burning in your chest was one that needed a whole team of fire departments to sooth. your eyes burned from the second hand smoke, your head pounded from the volume of the room surrounding
you, and your emotions fogged your sense of mindfulness. your body became so overwhelmed, you lost control.
“your audacity is so fucked up and ridiculous riki, i swear to fucking god! you make out with your exes in front of me for a stupid game, you’re off a fucking xanax, you’re telling me to shut up and you think you can just kiss me like none of it happened?! you MADE OUT without that girl! in front of me!” you shouted.
suddenly, the crowd started to chant.
“10, 9, 8…”
“you need to fucking get over it y/n! it was a fucking game!”
“7, 6, 5…”
“no one makes out with their ex like that over a game! you’ve been flirting all night! you like that shit!”
“4…”
“okay and?! what the fuck does that have to do with you?!”
“3…”
“you’ve been inside me riki! that shit is so disrespectful!”
“2…”
“it doesn’t fucking matter! i do what i want, you know i do what i want! you knew what this was when you fucking got here! you’re not my girlfriend, we’re not together, so get the fuck off my dick over who i fuck!”
“…1! happy new year!”
the party exploded it cheers and joy and you stood in silence for a moment, you and riki watching each other. “so that’s really how you feel about all of thi-“ you start, being cut off by daniela. the girl ran upto the both of you, cutting into the space between you and kissing riki right on his lips.
you step back in shock, seeing riki split from her and look over at you. “figure out how you’re getting home.” he mumbles out before going back to kissing daniela, running off with her.
you looked around the room one last time before deciding what to do with yourself next. on the couch, heeseung sat with jake’s face in his neck, jake’s arm over his shoulder as he rubbed jake’s back through ever drunken hiccup and sob. sunoo and sunghoon stood on the other side of the room, swaying around in each others arms, staring into each others eyes lovingly. jungwon laid stood against the wall with jay, his head leaning on his shoulder as their mouths moved, their conversation too quiet to ever be heard from the distance you stood. manon and lara were nowhere to be found.
before you knew it, your eyes welled up in tears. immediately, you headed for the door. as you get closer to sunghoon and sunoo, they realize the state you’re in and separate from one another. sunoo stops you in your tracks, sunghoon bringing his hand to your back. “hey, what’s going on? is it riki? i’ll deal with him when i get home, he’s being absolutely ridiculous right now-“ sunghoon starts. “yeah i’ll literally kill that kid i know where he lives.” sunoo agrees.
you shake your head in response, not even able to register the words you wanted to say to them. instead you pass by in silence, heading toward the door.
as you speed passed the couch, jake raises his head, seeing heeseung’s gaze following you as you walk. “you should go talk to her. she looks sad.” jake hums. “no i can’t,” heeseung snaps his head in jake’s direction. “you’re drunk. i can’t leave you alone.” he says.
“i can go stand with jay. he’s gonna bring jungwon back to his dorm. i can get a ride with him.” jake says. “and where are you going to stay? you have no furniture here to stay here even if you wanted to, and who else is willing to let you in?” heeseung asks. “i talked to jay earlier in case it went anywhere for you. he told me if i got too drunk he’d let me stay at his place. do you didn’t have to babysit me. i wanted you to have a chance at the girl you like.” jake says.
heeseung smiles and drops his head to his lap for a moment before looking back at jake. “you know, you’re really my best friend in the whole work ikeu man.” he says. jake opens his mouth to give heeseung a hearty response, instead being completely distract by layla, who ran over and jumped into his lap. “hey, party puppy!” he says, hugging her.
heeseung laughs, looking up to see jay walking in their direction. “go enjoy your party weed man. i got the party puppy and his party puppy.” he says. “thanks jay. we both appreciate you.” heeseung says, motion to himself and jake before heading off in your direction.
outside you sat in the bitter cold, your legs and arms shivering from your lack of body coverage in your skimpy dress. the wind was cold enough to freeze your tears to your face as you cried, sitting on a snowy curb in new york city, with nothing to keep you warm but the depth of your own emotions.
you heard sound of the party transfer from a muffled noise, to a clear sound, and back to a muffled one as the door opens and shuts again. you hear a few steps grow closer to you, and feel a warm being creating some kind of energy from your left.
you lift your head for your arms, turning your head to see heeseung seated next to you on the curb. “y/n? what’s going on, is everything okay? you’re so cold honey..” he mumbles, sliding his jacket off his shoulders and draping it over your shoulder. he moves in closer, his knees against yours. “no heeseung, you’re gonna get cold without your jacket-“ you start.
“y/n, you’re half naked and theirs snow on the ground. you need it more than i do. a nice girl should never be out on a curb in the cold like this alone, especially not crying.” he says. you feels your bottom lip quiver a bit, instinctively dropping your head onto his shoulder for comfort. “aw, poor girl. i know you’re sad. it’s all
gonna be okay, yeah? i promise.” heeseung whispers, wrapping both his arms over your body. his left arm draped around your back and on your arm, while the right pulled your knees inward toward his own legs. “what’s going on y/n? who did this to you?”
you sniffle as you wipe your tears from your face and take a deep breath, looking for some kind of sanity in your mess. “it’s riki. it’s always riki these days. he wants to sleep with me and sleep with whoever he wants. like okay fine, we’re not dating but you can’t fuck me and the rest of the bronx at the same time, thats so insane!” you say. “he full on left me here so he could run off and fuck with daniela. he even told me to figure out how i’m supposed to be getting home, it’s so ridiculous. and he’s gonna go have sex with her too, no remorse at all.” you choke out, your voice breaking again.
“i’m so sorry y/n, but as his friend, he’s never been good with girls, and you deserve so much more than that.” heeseung starts. “he left you here? just with no ride?” he continues. you nod. “i came here with him. we were supposed to go home together. he was supposed to stay with me…” you cry, your face falling right back into your palms.
heeseung hugs you closers, rubbing your shoulder and back into soothing motions. “i’ll bring you home y/n, you don’t have to worry about that.” he nods. “no heeseung, this isn’t your problem. you don’t have to do that.” you start. “it’s okay, i really don’t mind. i could never leave a girl alone at night to figure out how she’s getting home when i’m perfectly capable of helping you. besides, you don’t live very far, we can even hang out at my place for a little while if you want. get things off your mind a little, make you feel better?” heeseung insists.
“oh heeseung, you’re such a sweet boy. i really appreciate you caring so much about me. do you think riki will get mad though?” you ask. “y/n, he just left you here in the freezing cold alone on the corner of grand concourse in the literal dead of night so he could go have sex with another girl after he’s been having sex with you and sleeping in your bed. i don’t give a shit if he’s mad right now.” heeseung says.
you pause for a second, considering your options before you speak. ultimately, you nod and smile, drying your tears with the back of your hand before you look at heeseung. “well. we can hang out then. maybe we can get
something to eat first too?” you question. “burger king?” heeseung tilts his head, answering your question with a question as well. you giggle and smiled. “my favorite!”
before you know it, you and heeseung are hand in hand running to his car through the snow. and little did you know, it was much more than just a friendly act to make you feel better.
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𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 💭 : i hope this settled your horny little souls and soiled your angsty little hearts. i also hope you find are ready for all hell to break loose bc this is the chapter that really locks the whole story together :33 hope you enjoyed !!! thanks for reading 💕💕
📁 2026.works. ╰ 📂 SUNGHOON : SMAU! toxic boyfriend!sunghoon series (part 9.5 — written : 1.6k )
— NOTES : for readers who only read this story, this story is connected to another one and so the y/n mentioned by jake at the end is not this one!!
PART 9 — INDEX
‘Get out of here now, I need to drive you home and then go see Vivi.’ Sunghoon shouted behind the bathroom door, knocking on it to try getting a reaction. People had started complaining about the bathroom being closed, not knowing the person locked inside was a wasted 20 year old following his older friends in their shitty plans.
‘Riki.’ Sunghoon repeated and Jake giggled, sitting on the floor. ‘Oh man…’
Sunghoon heaved a long sigh. He wasn’t pissed, only worried for every single one of his friends.
He had been receiving tons of voice notes of Vivi crying by herself and wanted to comfort her and understand why she felt so bad. Her texts were clear, and he definitely had a few things to tell her but mostly he wanted to make sure she wouldn’t do something stupid.
Meanwhile, Riki was locked in the bathroom of the club for about twenty minutes now, and Jake… Jake was sitting on the floor, looking delirious.
‘Have you started taking some shit again ?’ Sunghoon asked, frowning, as he got on Jake’s level, checking his eyes but his friend’s only reaction was to giggle, irritating him as he was the only one with the ability to think now.
He ran a hand through his hair and went to the staff for them to open the bathroom door. It didn’t take long for them to understand the issue and judging by how fast they got the necessary material and walked to the door to open it, they most likely were used to this type of situation.
‘Fuck. Riki seriously.’ Sunghoon rushed into the bathroom as his friend was sitting on the floor, eyes closed, seemingly asleep and he shook his shoulders to make sure he wasn’t in danger.
He slowly opened his eyes, frowning and whining as the artificial light of the bathroom was blinding him. ‘Are you okay ?’ Sunghoon asked, his voice quite firm. He wasn’t one to give moral lessons usually, but he was pretty tense by his entire situation these days and he despised seeing how unserious his friends were.
He turned to Jake, who was still sitting outside of the bathroom, giggling all alone. ‘You’re fucking stupid, Jake.’ ‘Jake.’ He repeated. ‘Jakey !’ Jake turned his face to him and pushed his body off the floor, losing his balance as soon as he stood up.
Both of them got out of the bathroom, finally freeing them for every other customer waiting in line. Sunghoon got in the middle of them both, wrapping his arms around Riki’s waist and Jake’s to help both of them to walk straight as they were definitely wasted.
Jake kept giggling and talking about random stuff, meanwhile Riki was quiet. ‘It was her, I know it.’ He just said at some point, looking at his feet, focusing real hard to help Sunghoon guide him without too much trouble. Meanwhile Jake was stopping every two steps to compliment all the girls he was seeing.
‘Fuck, that dress looks fine on you, doll.’ Jake bit his lip and the girl smirked back at him, openly showing interest despite Jake being wasted.
‘Jakey, enough, we’re going home.’ He said, firmly holding him in place and making him follow the movement towards the exit.
Jake grumbled a bit but he still followed. As drunk as he was, he knew Sunghoon was his only way to go back home after the party and he definitely didn’t want to remain stuck in this club where he didn’t know anyone.
As they got outside, the cold hit hard, making both Jake and Riki shiver as their bodies temperature was way too high from the alcohol spreading in their body; and the sudden contact to the cold air felt like a knife being planted in their backs.
They quickly walked towards the car. Since he was younger, Riki sat on the backseat, as usual, leaving the passenger seat to Jake.
‘I’m gonna call my girl.’ Jake said and Sunghoon didn’t even respond. Riki neither, as he was already asleep, his head leaning against the door.
Sunghoon’s hands were on the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road while his mind was clearly lost in thoughts.
He thought about Vivi and how harsh he had been with his texts. She hadn’t even responded to his aggressive messages and he started feeling bad; especially because he noticed it only now.
He looked into the rearview and felt guilty for Riki’s state. Of course, they were used to going out together and Riki used to drink a lot, but 15 shots were way too much, especially if he emptied them in a row like Jake told him. He heaved a long sigh; feeling like shit.
He felt like a bad friend. And he knew he was a bad boyfriend. If he could still be considered this after you had broken up with him.
Suddenly, his mind thought of you. He frowned and gulped with quite some difficulty as he realized once again that he had lost you.
‘Fuck…’ He ran a hand through his hair, resting his head on his hand as he reached the traffic light and as it was red, he stopped the car.
The only sound in the car was Jake talking on the phone, holding his phone, probably facetiming someone; his girl after he said he’d call her.
‘You’re sooo pretty, baby.’ Jake said, smiling and biting his lips as his eyes were glued to the screen.
‘Why are you calling me, asshole ?’
Sunghoon frowned and looked towards Jake, realizing the voice was familiar.
‘Your lil boyfie’s pissed…’ He chuckled to himself and gave a quick glance at Sunghoon who was already staring at him with an interrogative expression. ‘Oop…’ Jake brought a hand to his mouth and simply turned the phone towards Sunghoon.
When your gazes met, Sunghoon’s gaze softened, eyes widening and eyebrows raising as it was his first contact with you since the breakup. Meanwhile, you panicked a bit. Sure, you had been watching his stories ever since the breakup, only out of curiosity and to make you hate on him harder as you were clearly still heavily pissed by the whole situation. Pissed by his lies and by the way he literally chose not to be honest despite knowing it could ruin your relationship.
But there was a huge difference between watching stories, and confronting him. You clearly didn’t want to talk to him. It wasn’t a lie, and so your first reflex was to hang up the phone, leaving Sunghoon confused.
He remained still for a few seconds, realizing that no words had been spoken. All that he got from this interaction was a hateful gaze. And the worst part of it was that there wasn’t just hate, but also pain.
He knew the situation was also hurting you; but he was so focused on getting you back that he hadn’t really thought about how you were feeling exactly. You weren’t just mad at him. You weren’t just tired of his lies. You were heartbroken, and it truly hit him like a truck.
‘Sooo… She still doesn’t wanna talk to you.’ Jake said, pouting, slightly embarrassed by the situation. Sunghoon frowned and grabbed him by the collar.
‘Why the fuck would you call my girl ?’
Jake’s eyes widened slightly. He blinked a few times and pointed at the road. ‘It’s green.’
Sunghoon released him and grumbled a few insults. He knew damn well that there was no use in talking to him now since he was drunk and most likely amused by the situation. He didn’t find any fun in it, and all he wanted was to go back to his own apartment tonight.
As he was about to turn right towards Jake’s apartment, he stopped him. ‘Nah. Drive me to y/n’s place.’ When Sunghoon shot him a deadly gaze, he raised his hands to claim his innocence along with a small smile. ‘MY y/n. Not yours.’
‘Plus she lives near your apartment sooo…’ Jake was trying to change the topic; and since Sunghoon was clearly not following him in this direction, Jake ended up playing his playlist in the car, blasting the songs so loud that Riki could’ve woken up right away. But clearly, he was way too deeply asleep to care about the surrounding noise.
When they parked in front of Y/N’s apartment, Jake got out of the car with a large smile, sending voice notes to her. ‘Baby, I’m staying over tonight.’ He informed her, not even asking her. But it would be useless since it was almost 6 am now and she was most likely asleep.
Jake closed the door and knocked on the window. Sunghoon opened it, and leaned over to listen to what he had to add. He expected
‘Don’t go to Vivi. Go home, you’re two streets away anyway.’ He seemed almost sober and serious for once. But quickly got back to his usual self. He checked his phone as it buzzed with a text message. ‘Anyway, my girl waits for me, legs open sooo bye.’ He said, licking his lip slightly and biting it as he texted back and walked towards the building.
Meanwhile, he was sitting there, wondering what to do. He checked the rearview and as he noticed Riki was deeply asleep, he decided to go to his place, like Jake suggested and let his friend sleep over rather than going to Vivi’s apartment.
He would have another occasion to talk to her about what happened, he thought. He just hoped for it to go well, as he didn’t want to lose his friend right after losing his girlfriend.
Because he had never known worse pain than having to see you drift away from him willingly.
Warnings: Crying, slight angst, jealousy, violence, I think that’s it.
Taglist: @voucearse, @seodami, @ateez-atiny380, @tunafishyfishylike, @h0neylemon, @chikknsaltkiki, @cherry012399, @luvkiyomi, @reiofsuns2001, let me know through an ask, a message, or a comment if you want to be added to the taglist!
Chapter 6 is here and I hope you guys will enjoy it!
Masterlist Chapter 5 Chapter 7 (wip)
The weekend continued in a complete daze. Everything moved so fast that by Sunday evening, half of them could barely remember where they had been just hours earlier. Kei had his marathon on Saturday morning, and he absolutely dominated. The crowd loved him almost immediately. Maybe it was his visuals, maybe it was the way he kept smiling at people cheering for him, barely even out of breath while everyone else looked exhausted, or maybe it was because clips of him crossing the finish line with sweat sticking his hair to his forehead had already started spreading online before the race even ended.
“You’re literally insane,” Jake laughed afterward, shoving a bottle of water into Kei’s chest while the others crowded around him outside the stadium. “How are you not even tired?” Kei caught the bottle easily, taking a casual sip. “Maybe you’re all just weak.” Nicholas stared at him pointedly. “You didn’t even breathe hard.” “That’s what I’m saying!” Sunghoon added. “Everyone else looked like they were about to collapse, and this guy looked ready to run another marathon.” Kei only grinned, eyes glinting slightly underneath the afternoon sunlight. “I could.” “Shut up,” Jay groaned. People passing by kept staring at them. Some recognized Kei from the race. Others recognized the group from social media. Phones were subtly lifted around them, whispers spreading as they walked through campus together.
By the time Saturday afternoon rolled around, Fuma, Yuma, Nicholas, Taki, Jake, and Sunghoon were at the university soccer game acting like absolute maniacs in the stands. “No, hold it higher!” Taki complained while trying to fix the massive poster board Jake had made an hour earlier. “It is high!” “You’re blocking my sign!” Yuma said. “You literally wrote yours in glitter,” Nicholas said flatly. “Nobody can even read it.” The second the camera panned toward them during halftime, the crowd completely lost it. People screamed when they realized who they were. Some students rushed over during breaks just to take pictures with them, while others instantly pulled out their phones to film. Jake and Sunghoon posted videos from the game almost immediately, tagging the university team and flooding their accounts with chaotic clips of them yelling from the stands.
Within an hour, the attendance at the game had nearly doubled. “You guys are actually free marketing,” one of the players laughed afterward while drenched in sweat. “We should start charging,” Fuma joked, earning a smack to the shoulder from Nicholas. Sunday somehow became even busier. The fashion department had practically worshipped the boys the second they arrived. Racks of clothes lined the hallways backstage, students rushing around with pins between their teeth and clipboards in hand while music blasted from portable speakers.
Jay looked annoyingly perfect in everything they put him in. Sunoo somehow charmed every single stylist within minutes. Jungwon stayed calm through all of it, though he kept laughing every time Niki started posing dramatically for the cameras on purpose. “Stop acting like this is Vogue,” Jungwon muttered while trying not to smile. “It could be Vogue,” Niki shot back confidently before turning toward another camera with an exaggerated smirk. (Y/n) spent almost the entire day running around making sure everything was documented properly. Pictures. Videos. Behind-the-scenes clips. Dance challenges in changing rooms. Outfit transitions in mirrors. Group selfies in elevators.
At one point, all seven of them ended up crammed together in front of a staircase, trying to film a trending dance challenge while fashion students gathered nearby just to watch. “Wait, wait, you’re off beat!” Sunoo laughed. “I’m not off beat, you’re off beat,” Jay argued immediately. “You started early!” “No, I didn’t!” “You literally did!” The final take ended with half of them laughing too hard to finish the choreography properly, but ironically, it became the clip that gained the most attention online. By Sunday evening, exhaustion had settled into everyone’s bones.
Still, (Y/n) sat in front of her laptop with her heart pounding while the others crowded behind her on couches and the floor of the practice room. The showcase registration page stared back at her. One month away. “This is it,” Jake reassured quietly. “Once you submit it, we’re officially in!” (Y/n) nodded slowly. For a second, nobody spoke. Then she clicked submit. A mixture of cheers and groans immediately filled the room. “Oh my god,” Sunoo fell backward dramatically onto the floor. “We’re actually doing this.” “We have a month,” Jungwon muttered, already sounding stressed. “A month is nothing,” Jay added. “A month is enough,” (Y/n) corrected firmly, finally looking up from the screen. “If we work hard enough.” The room quieted slightly after that.
Because despite the chaos of the weekend, despite the nonstop schedules and the exhaustion and the cameras constantly shoved in their faces, it had worked. Better than any of them expected. The team’s social media had exploded almost overnight. Ten thousand followers had turned into nearly one hundred thousand by Sunday night. Every post was flooded with comments. People talked about how handsome they were. How funny they seemed together. Their chemistry. Their dancing. Their fashion. Their personalities. Edits of them had already started circulating online, clips from the marathon mixed with soccer game videos and backstage fashion content. For the first time since this entire thing started, it no longer felt small. People were paying attention now.
~~~
As lunchtime on Monday came around, (Y/n) ran into Euijoo outside the campus café. The second she saw him standing there with his hands in the pockets of his jacket, something uncomfortable twisted in her chest. She hadn’t really spoken to him since Friday. He had texted her during the weekend. A few simple messages asking how she was doing, if the showcase preparations were going well, if she wanted to grab coffee sometime. She had stared at every notification for a long time before eventually locking her phone again without answering.
Now, seeing him in person felt strangely awkward. Because no matter how much she tried not to think about it, she couldn’t stop remembering the event on Friday. Euijoo had been there before Niki. He had seen her cornered. Seen her threatened. And he had done nothing. Maybe he had been shocked. Maybe he hadn’t known what to do. Maybe he had been scared. But none of those excuses erased the image burned into her mind of him standing there frozen while her pulse pounded with panic. Then Niki had arrived. Niki, who always acted recklessly, immaturely, and was impossible to control. Niki, who stepped in without hesitation. It made everything more complicated than she wanted it to be.
Because she had still planned to use Euijoo. Planned to keep pretending that whatever existed between them could distract her from the feelings growing louder and messier every single day whenever Niki smiled at her or looked at her too long. But now? Now there was bitterness mixed into it. Disappointment. Something almost painfully close to betrayal. And standing there in front of him, watching him give her that same gentle expression he always wore around her, she realized she couldn’t keep this up much longer. Euijoo seemed to realize it too. Whatever they had between them felt fragile now. A dying flame reduced to weak embers barely glowing in the dark. Still warm enough to notice, but fading more every day. Yet neither of them seemed ready to say it out loud. It’s over.
“Hi,” Euijoo said softly. (Y/n) looked away for a second before answering. “Hi.” A short silence settled between them, filled with the distant noise of students talking nearby and the sound of coffee machines hissing inside the café. “You must’ve had a busy weekend,” Euijoo said after a moment, trying to sound casual. “Based on the team’s social media.” (Y/n) forced a small smile onto her face. “Yeah. Super busy.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry, I didn’t respond to your texts. I was just really occupied with the team.” Euijoo nodded slowly. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “Everyone’s busy sometimes.”
But the words sounded heavier than they should have. His eyes lingered on her face for a second too long, like he was searching for something. Some sign that things were still normal between them. There wasn’t one. (Y/n) shifted awkwardly under his gaze. “You watched the posts?” she asked, mostly to fill the silence. Euijoo smiled faintly. “Hard not to. You guys are kind of everywhere right now.” A soft laugh escaped her, though it faded quickly. “Yeah, apparently.” “I saw the videos from the soccer game.” His smile became a little more genuine. “Yuma nearly falling over the railing was pretty funny.” That earned a real laugh from her this time. “He almost fell because he saw a bug.” “I believe it.”
For a brief second, things felt normal again. Easy. Then the silence returned. And this time, it stayed longer. (Y/n) looked over toward Sophia, who was waiting a little ahead near the cafeteria entrance, scrolling on her phone while occasionally glancing over at them. “I have to go,” (Y/n) said quietly. “But I’ll see you later.” Euijoo nodded slowly, though she could tell there was something he wanted to say. As she started walking away, he finally spoke. “Do you have time to go on a date someday?” (Y/n)’s steps slowed. For a moment, she just stood there. She didn’t turn around. Part of her wanted to say no immediately. Rip the band-aid off before things got even messier between them. But another part of her hesitated.
Because Euijoo was kind. Safe. Easy. And she hated herself a little for not being able to love him the way she was supposed to. “Maybe Wednesday,” she answered softly before continuing to walk away. Behind her, Euijoo let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He didn’t blame her for the distance growing between them. Honestly, he knew better than anyone that whatever relationship they had should probably end before it hurt them both more than it already was. Still, he couldn’t let go. Not yet. Maybe it was selfishness. Maybe it was denial. Or maybe he simply missed the version of her that used to smile more easily around him.
As (Y/n) reached Sophia, the two of them headed toward an empty table near the windows. The cafeteria buzzed with loud conversations and clattering trays around them, but (Y/n) barely noticed any of it as she dropped into the seat across from Sophia. Sophia immediately narrowed her eyes. “What happened?” she asked. “You looked like someone just told you your dog died.” (Y/n) let out a weak laugh before resting her chin in her hand. “It’s complicated.” “That usually means bad.” (Y/n) sighed deeply, staring down at the condensation sliding down the side of her drink. “I think…” She paused, trying to organize her thoughts. “I think I don’t really like Euijoo anymore.”
Sophia blinked. “Like, at all?” “No, I do like him,” (Y/n) corrected quickly. “Just not romantically.” She frowned slightly. “He’s cute, he’s sweet, he’s literally everything I should want.” “But?” (Y/n)’s expression tightened almost instantly. “But I can’t stop thinking about Niki.” Even just saying his name out loud made her chest feel strange. Sophia leaned back in her chair slowly, as if the answer finally confirmed something she had already suspected. “Then you should break up with Euijoo,” she said gently. “It seems like our plan isn’t really working.” (Y/n) nodded weakly.
“Yeah.” She picked at the sleeve of her hoodie absentmindedly. “I just… don’t know how to do it.” Sophia snorted softly. “No one knows how to break up with someone.” “That’s comforting.” “I’m serious,” Sophia said, nudging her foot lightly under the table. “There’s no magical perfect way to do it without hurting someone.” (Y/n) stayed quiet. Sophia’s voice softened slightly after a moment. “But honestly? You should just tell him the truth. Say you don’t have romantic feelings for him.” She shrugged. “No one can blame you for that.” (Y/n) gave her a small smile. “Thanks.” Sophia smiled back. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Still, even after the conversation ended, something uncomfortable remained in the pit of (Y/n)’s stomach. Because logically, she knew Sophia was right. This relationship wasn’t fair to Euijoo anymore. Maybe it never had been. But some stubborn part of her still wanted to keep trying. Euijoo was perfect on paper. Kind. Stable. Attractive. Patient. He was the type of guy people dreamed about dating. So why wasn’t he enough? Why did her heart still race for someone else instead? Someone reckless. Someone complicated. Someone who drove her completely insane without even trying.
She managed to push the thoughts away until her last class of the day: chemistry. At first, the class had seemed easy enough. It was similar to one she had taken last year, so she walked into the semester expecting a relaxed grade and minimal effort. Then, somehow, the professor had decided to turn the class into actual torture. The lectures became harder every week, the equations started looking like another language, and every assignment made her question whether she had accidentally enrolled in an advanced science program without realizing it. Thankfully, she was friends with Jake. And annoyingly enough, Jake seemed to be the smartest person in the entire class. He understood concepts almost immediately, barely needing notes, while the rest of the students sat there looking confused and miserable. (Y/n) had long since accepted that sitting beside him was the only reason she wasn’t failing.
Still, as she sat next to him that afternoon with her textbook open in front of her, her attention was nowhere near chemistry. Instead, her thoughts drifted right back to Euijoo. How was she supposed to end things? Should she do it in person? Over text? Should she wait until after the date on Wednesday? Or would that just make things crueler? She barely even noticed the professor talking at the front of the room until he suddenly clapped his hands together. “Alright,” he announced. “The last thirty minutes are free study time. You have a test next week, and judging by the grades from your last quiz, most of you desperately need it.” A collective groan filled the classroom. Jake snorted quietly beside her. “He’s kind of evil,” he muttered. (Y/n) smiled faintly, though it quickly disappeared again.
Jake glanced toward her. Then again. His expression shifted slightly. As a vampire, subtle changes in heartbeat and blood flow were impossible for him to ignore. Right now, (Y/n)’s pulse was uneven, slightly faster than normal, her body practically radiating anxiety. Jake leaned back slightly in his chair. “What’s wrong?” (Y/n) blinked, pulled from her thoughts. “Hm?” “You seem stressed.” She hesitated immediately. Jake noticed. “You’ve been staring at the same page for like ten minutes,” he pointed out. “And you highlighted the title twice.” (Y/n) looked down in horror. She had. Jake laughed softly. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
For a second, she considered brushing him off. But maybe getting a guy’s perspective would help. Jake was honest. Blunt sometimes, but honest. So she let out a quiet breath. “You know how I’m dating Euijoo?” Jake nodded slowly. “Uh-huh.” (Y/n) stared down at her notebook while speaking. “I think I’m losing feelings for him.” Her fingers tightened slightly around her pen. “And I feel horrible about breaking up with him, but…” She sighed quietly. “It’s not right to lead him on either, right?” Jake’s expression softened almost instantly. He turned toward her more fully, lowering his voice slightly despite the classroom noise around them. “Breaking up with someone is never easy,” he said gently. “Especially when they didn’t really do anything wrong.”
(Y/n) swallowed quietly. “But honestly?” Jake continued. “I know I’d rather hear the truth and be heartbroken for a little while than find out weeks later that the person I liked stopped loving me ages ago.” His words settled heavily in her chest. Jake glanced at her carefully before adding, “Or worse, finding out they stayed with me while wanting someone else.” (Y/n)’s stomach twisted. Because she hadn’t even fully considered that possibility before. Not really. She had been so focused on avoiding hurting Euijoo that she hadn’t thought about how much worse things could become if she kept dragging this out.
Because if Niki gave her the chance… If he pulled her close again. Looked at her that way again. Touched her the way he sometimes casually did without even realizing the effect it had on her… She didn’t know if she’d stop herself anymore. And that terrified her. Not because she thought Niki would force anything. But because deep down, she knew she wanted him to. Jake smiled gently at her. “You know,” he said quietly, spinning his pen between his fingers, “Euijoo is a nice guy. I don’t think he’d blame you for this.” (Y/n) looked down at the desk silently. Jake continued after a moment. “Besides, I think most people have that one person they’re convinced would be perfect for them.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “And then it turns out they were meant to be the perfect friend instead of the perfect boyfriend or girlfriend.”
Something in her chest loosened slightly, hearing that. Maybe because Jake said it so casually. Like it wasn’t some horrible, unforgivable thing. (Y/n) smiled faintly. “Thanks, Jake,” she said softly. “I needed to hear that.” Jake nodded once. “Alright,” he said, lightly tapping her textbook. “Now come on. I’ll explain this concept to you one more time because I’m like ninety percent sure this is gonna be the main part of the test.” (Y/n) laughed quietly for the first time all class. “Please do.” Jake immediately flipped to another page, grabbing her pencil before scribbling down a formula in the margins. “Okay, look. The professor keeps bringing this up for a reason,” he explained. “So if you understand this part, you’ll probably survive.” “Probably?” she repeated skeptically. Jake grinned. “I can’t make promises.” As he continued explaining the material, her mind slowly stopped spiraling.
The tightness in her chest eased little by little. Instead of overthinking every possible future conversation with Euijoo, she focused on Jake’s voice, the sound of pencils scratching against paper, and the textbook spread open between them. And for the first time that day, things felt clear again. Because she had finally made up her mind. She was breaking up with Euijoo on Wednesday.
~~~
After class ended, Jake and (Y/n) walked to dance practice together. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across campus, students slowly filtering out of buildings while others gathered outside with friends. Jake carried both his backpack and a coffee he had somehow managed to buy between classes, while (Y/n) walked beside him. “You better not fail that chemistry test after I practically taught you the entire chapter,” Jake warned dramatically before taking a sip of his drink. (Y/n) snorted. “If I fail, that’s honestly your fault at this point.” “Wow. So quick to betray me.” “You’ll survive.” “Barely.” By the time they reached the practice building, music was already faintly echoing through the hallways.
Jake pushed the studio door open first. Inside, Kei, Niki, Nicholas, Fuma, Jay, and Sunghoon were already there, stretching and talking amongst themselves. The second they noticed her walk in, several heads turned immediately. “Finally,” Jay complained dramatically. “Do you know how boring these people are without you?” Nicholas looked offended. “Excuse you.” (Y/n) laughed softly as she walked further inside. Kei gave her a small wave from where he sat on the floor, tying his shoes, while Sunghoon nodded at her in greeting. Fuma smiled warmly, and Nicholas lifted a hand lazily before going back to fixing the sleeves of his hoodie.
Jake headed toward the locker room to change, leaving (Y/n) near the bags piled against the mirrored wall. She crouched down to place her things beside the others, pulling out her clipboard and flipping through the pages absentmindedly. Before she could fully stand again, something flew toward her. (Y/n)’s reflexes kicked in fast enough for her to catch it easily. She blinked down at the protein bar in her hand before looking up. Niki stood a few feet away with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. She smiled automatically. At some point, this had become a habit between them. If she skipped lunch, looked tired, or spent too many hours running around without resting, Niki would silently hand her food like an annoyed house cat pretending not to care.
“Thanks,” she said. Niki nodded casually. “You look extra tired today.” He tilted his head slightly. “I have candy too if you want it.” (Y/n) laughed quietly before placing a hand against his upper arm. “I’m fine, but thank you.” She squeezed lightly. “I’ll let you know if I need it.” For a second, Niki looked almost too pleased by the casual touch. Then he quickly covered it up with a teasing grin. “Alright,” he said. “But I’ll have the right to say ‘I told you so’ if you pass out again.” (Y/n) groaned immediately. “I passed out once.” “You collapsed into my arms,” Niki corrected proudly. “You’re never letting that go, are you?” “Nope.”
She laughed again, warmth spreading through her chest easier than it should have. Things between them felt normal again. Not tense. Not awkward. Just… easy. “If you say ‘I told you so,’ I won’t cook for a month,” she threatened lightly. Niki gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “But honey,” he whined. “Would you really leave me to starve?” “I think you’ll survive, rich boy.” The others snorted at that. Jay nearly choked on his water, laughing while Nicholas muttered, “She got you there.” (Y/n) patted Niki lightly on the chest before stepping around him and walking toward the others gathered near the mirrors.
“Hey, Nicholas,” she said. The dancer glanced up at her. “What’s up?” he asked. “I saw the dance video you posted on TikTok,” (Y/n) said as she flipped through the papers on her clipboard. Nicholas immediately looked up from where he had been stretching. “Yeah?” he asked. Then his expression shifted slightly. “Wait, should I not have posted it?” He frowned. “I thought you said we should try posting as much as possible.” (Y/n) quickly shook her head. “Oh no, nothing like that.” She smiled slightly. “Actually, I was gonna say that so far, you’ve gotten the most attention.”
Nicholas blinked. “Seriously?” “Yeah.” She glanced back down at her notes. “You’ve been choosing really popular songs, your dancing’s good obviously, and people really like your look and vibe.” She looked back up at him. “So honestly, please post more if you can.” A grin immediately spread across Nicholas’ face. “Oh, good,” he sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “I thought you were about to scold me.” Jay snorted from nearby. “And instead,” Nicholas continued proudly, “I’m being praised. So basically, I’m the most popular guy on the team, huh?”
Before anyone else could answer, Fuma walked over and lightly smacked the back of Nicholas’ head. “Careful there, Nico,” he said dryly. “Your ego’s gonna make you burst.” Nicholas looked offended. “My ego is perfectly reasonable.” “Sure.” (Y/n) laughed loudly at their bickering before turning toward Fuma. “Oh, Fuma, I saw your post too,” she said. “It’s good, but we seriously need to work on your camera angles.” Fuma immediately nodded with complete seriousness. Jay nearly doubled over laughing while Nicholas proudly pointed at Fuma. “Finally, someone said it.” Fuma looked deeply betrayed.
Before the conversation could continue, Niki suddenly walked over and practically draped himself across (Y/n)’s back and shoulders. The full weight of him leaned against her immediately. (Y/n) let out a noise of protest. “Niki,” she groaned. “You’re heavy.” “Nah,” he replied lazily, resting his chin against the top of her head. “You’re fine.” Honestly, he was mostly annoyed that the wolves had been getting all of her attention for the past few minutes instead of him. “What about me?” he whined dramatically. “How did I do?”
(Y/n) adjusted her footing automatically so she wouldn’t topple over from his height leaning against her. “I’m literally gonna fall.” “You’re dramatic.” She turned her head slightly, looking toward Nicholas and Fuma with clear desperation in her eyes, silently begging one of them to help. Neither did. Instead, both of them smiled knowingly before immediately turning away to start talking to Jay instead. Traitors. (Y/n) sighed dramatically.
“Your video did really well,” she finally admitted. Niki perked up immediately. “How well?” “It was the second highest on the team,” she said while checking her notes again. “Just a few hundred views lower than Nicholas’.” Niki narrowed his eyes instantly toward Nicholas. Nicholas smirked smugly. “Talent always wins.” “Oh, shut up,” Niki scoffed. “My video was better.” “It literally wasn’t.” “It had more aura.” Nicholas looked horrified. “Did you just say aura unironically?” Niki ignored him completely, instead looking back down at (Y/n) with a pleased grin. “So basically I’m your favorite.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes. “That is absolutely not what I said.” “But it’s what you meant.” “It really wasn’t.” Still, despite her words, the smile tugging at the corners of her lips made Niki grin even wider.
As the whole team gradually gathered together in the center of the practice room, (Y/n) found herself staring at them thoughtfully. It was strange sometimes, seeing all of them lined up together like this. Kei and Niki were by far the tallest. They naturally stood out no matter where they were positioned, both of them towering over almost everyone else in the room. Then came Nicholas, Fuma, and Sunghoon, slightly shorter but still noticeably tall enough to command attention easily. The rest of the group balanced things out more evenly. Jay, Sunoo, Taki, Yuma, Jungwon, and Jake were all relatively similar in height, though each carried themselves completely differently. Jay had an effortless elegance to him, Sunoo somehow made every movement look cute, Jungwon always stood calmly with perfect posture, while Jake somehow looked relaxed even while stretching.
But as (Y/n)’s eyes traveled across the group again, another detail suddenly stood out to her. Hair. Specifically, the lack of variety. Except for Sunoo, every single one of them had black hair. Sunoo’s blonde hair immediately drew attention because of it, though the color had started fading slightly near the roots already. (Y/n) narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. When she researched other showcase teams online, most groups had at least three or four members with brighter or more unique hair colors. Silver. Blue. Red. White blonde. Sometimes, even split dyed styles. And honestly? It worked.
People noticed things like that instantly. Maybe they could use wigs. The thought made her eyes drift toward Niki automatically. Blonde would probably look insane on him. Or silver. Nicholas could probably pull off dark red. Kei would look intimidating with white hair. (Y/n)’s brain continued spiraling deeper into styling ideas. Wigs would definitely be cheaper than bleaching and damaging their actual hair. But then they’d have to learn how to secure them properly. What if one flew off during choreography? Actually, that would be horrifying. Imagine Niki whipping his head during a dance break and suddenly launching a wig across the stage. (Y/n) grimaced slightly.
“No, glue maybe…” she mumbled quietly to herself. “Or extra clips… but sweat could still…” The boys nearby slowly began exchanging confused looks. “Maybe colored contacts too…” she continued absentmindedly. “But that could get expensive…” “What’s expensive?” Jay whispered toward Sunghoon. “I have no idea,” Sunghoon whispered back. “At least three wigs…” (Y/n) muttered while scribbling something random onto her clipboard. “But matching lace fronts for dancing sounds difficult…” By now, several of the boys were openly staring at her.
Yuma finally walked over and waved a hand directly in front of her face. “Earth to (Y/n),” he said with a laugh. “You awake?” (Y/n) blinked rapidly before looking up at him. “Oh.” She straightened slightly. “Sorry, did I say that out loud?” The boys immediately burst into laughter. Jay answered first. “If speaking in code counts as talking out loud, then sure.” (Y/n) giggled softly, slightly embarrassed now that everyone was staring at her. “Sorry,” she said. “I was just thinking.” She pointed vaguely toward the group. “Except for Sunoo, all of you have black hair. Which basically makes Sunoo stand out a lot.” Sunoo looked oddly proud hearing that. “As I should.” Nicholas rolled his eyes immediately. (Y/n) ignored them and continued.
“And when I looked at other showcase teams online, most groups had at least three or four members with fun hair colors.” She tapped her pen against the clipboard thoughtfully. “The audience seems to really like that kind of thing.” The boys all looked at each other for a moment. “Huh,” Kei muttered. “I never really thought about it before.” He ran a hand through his dark hair absentmindedly. “But now that you mention it, even at the marathon, a lot of the guys from other dance teams had highlights or dyed hair.” (Y/n) nodded quickly. “Exactly. It makes people remember you faster visually.”
Jay hummed thoughtfully. “So your brain was basically spiraling over our hair.” “Unfortunately, yes.” “That’s kind of cute,” Sunoo mumbled. (Y/n) pretended not to hear him. “So,” she continued, flipping through her notes again, “I was trying to decide whether it would be better to ask some of you to dye your actual hair or buy wigs instead.” At the word wigs, several of the boys immediately looked alarmed. “Wigs?” Jake repeated. “What if it flies off?” Taki asked in horror. “That’s literally what I was thinking about earlier,” (Y/n) admitted. Niki burst out laughing. “Imagine Nicholas hitting a turn and suddenly launching pink hair across the audience.”
Nicholas looked offended. “Why am I the one losing the wig?” “Because you dance the hardest.” “That’s true, actually,” Jay admitted. Eventually, though, the conversation shifted more seriously. One by one, most of the boys admitted they wouldn’t really mind dyeing their actual hair if it helped the team gain more attention. (Y/n)’s eyes widened slightly. “Really?” Sunghoon shrugged casually. “It grows back.” “Exactly,” Niki agreed. “And if it helps our popularity, why not?” Even Jungwon nodded. “As long as our hair doesn’t completely die.” “That can definitely be avoided if we’re careful,” (Y/n) assured quickly.
She looked down at her clipboard for a second before glancing back up at all of them, eyes scanning each member thoughtfully. “Okay, well… if that’s the case, we can rotate between all of you every now and then so your hair has time to recover between colors.” The boys listened surprisingly seriously now. Then (Y/n) hesitated slightly before speaking again. “If I can speak my mind…” Niki grinned. “You always do.” (Y/n) ignored him.
“I think Niki and Sunghoon would suit blonde really well. Like Sunoo.” Niki immediately looked pleased with himself. “I knew it.” Sunghoon just sighed quietly like he had already accepted his fate. “Kei,” (Y/n) continued thoughtfully, “I think you’d look really good with a whiter blonde. Like almost silver.” Kei blinked slowly. “That sounds kind of terrifying.” “It sounds hot,” Jay corrected. (Y/n) laughed before continuing. “Fuma and Jay would suit dark blue really well.” Jay immediately flipped his hair dramatically. “I already knew I was meant for greatness.” Fuma snorted. “You’d say that no matter what color she picked.” “Correct.”
(Y/n) smiled before pointing her pen toward Nicholas and Yuma. “You two could definitely pull off red or pink. Or blonde too, honestly.” Nicholas looked genuinely intrigued now. “Pink could actually go hard.” Yuma laughed. “I’m trying to imagine you with pink hair, and somehow it makes sense.” “Taki,” (Y/n) continued, “I think highlights would look really nice on you.” Taki gasped dramatically. “She sees the vision.” “Jungwon,” she said next, “maybe brighter blue? Possibly purple.” Jungwon looked mildly horrified. “Purple?” “You’d look expensive,” Sunoo informed him. That somehow made Jungwon laugh. “And finally Jake…” (Y/n) tilted her head thoughtfully toward him. “Maybe brown or blonde too.” Jake blinked. “Brown.” Everyone immediately stared at him.
Jake frowned. “What?” “You already have black hair,” Nicholas deadpanned. “No, but like…” Jake gestured vaguely. “Different brown.” “That explained absolutely nothing,” Jay said. The room filled with laughter again. Eventually, everyone looked back toward (Y/n), who was still staring at them like a stylist planning a complete makeover. Taki pointed at her accusingly. “Oh wow,” he exclaimed. “You’ve thought about this way too much.”
“No, I haven’t,” (Y/n) said immediately, glaring at Taki across the room. Taki raised both hands defensively. “I’m just saying, you had color palettes ready.” (Y/n) narrowed her eyes. “It’s called being organized.” “It’s called being slightly terrifying,” Jay corrected. The room filled with laughter again. (Y/n) rolled her eyes dramatically. “It’s just…” She sighed before speaking more honestly. “When I get serious about something, I want to do it well.” The room quieted slightly after that. Because all of them knew she meant it. Every bit of attention the team had gotten recently was because of her planning. The social media growth, the collaborations, the posting schedules, the events they attended. She took all of it seriously because she genuinely wanted them to succeed.
Before anyone else could comment, Niki walked over and lightly bumped his shoulder against hers. He also shot Taki a glare. “You’re doing great,” he said simply. “Don’t listen to the idiot.” “Hey!” Taki yelled loudly in protest. Nobody cared. Sunoo actually laughed harder. Nicholas stretched his arms over his head before speaking up. “Okay, so.” He looked around the room. “Who’s actually sacrificing their hair here and who’s helping?” (Y/n)’s eyes brightened immediately at the question. “Well…” She flipped through her clipboard again. “If we buy everything we need, we could probably dye some hair this weekend.”
The boys immediately started talking over each other. “This weekend?” “Oh, my god.” “Wait, seriously?” Then (Y/n) glanced over toward Niki. “Why don’t we do a team dinner at Niki’s and my place?” The way she paused slightly while looking at him made it obvious she was silently asking permission, too. Niki nodded almost immediately. “Sounds good.” The second he agreed, chaos erupted. “Yay! Party at Niki’s!” Yuma shouted dramatically. Sunoo clapped excitedly while Jay immediately asked if there would be snacks. Niki groaned loudly already. “I’m gonna regret this.” “You absolutely are,” Jake confirmed. Fuma laughed softly before bringing the conversation back on track. “We still haven’t decided whose hair we’re sacrificing first.”
(Y/n) looked around the room thoughtfully, eyes landing on each member one by one. “Um…” She smiled slightly. “If it’s okay, let’s fix Sunoo’s roots…” Sunoo nodded proudly. “As we should.” “Then maybe we will turn Nicholas into a tomato.” Nicholas gasped dramatically while everyone else burst into laughter. “I cannot believe this is how you speak about me.” “You’d look good red,” (Y/n) defended. Nicholas crossed his arms. “Continue.” “And then maybe Niki…” She tilted her head thoughtfully toward him. “Or we make Jay a blueberry.” Jay looked deeply offended. “A blueberry?” “You literally said dark blue would suit you!” “Yes, but hearing it phrased like that is upsetting.” Niki laughed so hard he nearly doubled over.
Meanwhile, Nicholas pointed at Jay immediately. “No, no, she’s right. You would look like a blueberry.” Jay looked betrayed. “I hate this team.” “You love us,” Sunghoon said calmly. Unfortunately for Jay, he was correct. Kei smiled slightly while looking around at everyone. “How about we just do all of that?” he suggested. “Sunoo and Niki as blondes, Nico with the red, and Jay with the blue.” Niki immediately grinned. “Oh, I’d look insane blonde.” “You already think you look insane now,” Jake muttered. Kei ignored him and continued. “That’ll look good. I’m sure of it.” (Y/n) looked genuinely excited now, already scribbling notes onto her clipboard.
“Okay,” she said quickly. “I’ll buy the stuff we need for Saturday then, and we can figure the rest out later.” Honestly, seeing her so invested in all of it made several of the boys smile without even realizing it. Because every time she talked about the team like this, it stopped feeling like some random showcase. It started feeling real.
~~~
All too soon, Wednesday arrived. The entire day, (Y/n) felt strangely nervous. Not anxious exactly. Just heavy. Like she already knew something important was ending before it had even happened. She had gotten permission to skip dance practice that evening so she could go on her date with Euijoo. Most of the team only knew she had plans, though Jake knew the truth. He had noticed the way she kept checking her phone all morning, how distracted she looked during lunch. Part of him considered warning Niki somehow. Not because Niki and (Y/n) were together. They definitely weren’t. But Jake wasn’t blind either. Still, after thinking about it for a while, he decided against interfering. It wasn’t his place. So instead, he simply wished her luck before she left campus.
(Y/n) met Euijoo at a park not too far from the university. The weather had cooled slightly compared to earlier in the week, leaves shifting gently in the breeze while people wandered along the paths surrounding the gardens and small cafés nearby. When she first saw him waiting for her, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, he smiled immediately. And honestly? For a little while, things felt good again. Easy. Normal. They walked through the park together slowly, talking about random things. Classes. Social media. A professor Euijoo hated. A dog they saw chasing leaves near the fountain.
At one point, Euijoo laughed so hard at one of her jokes that tears formed in his eyes, and hearing that sound almost made her chest ache. Because this was what had made her like him in the first place. He was kind. Gentle. Comfortable. For a few moments, it almost felt like the beginning of their relationship again. Like maybe if she ignored the lingering guilt in her chest long enough, things could somehow return to normal. But deep down, she knew they couldn’t. And Euijoo knew it too.
Three hours later, the sun had started setting behind the city skyline, painting the sky in soft shades of orange and pink. The temperature dropped with it. (Y/n) rubbed her hands together slightly as a cold breeze passed through the park. Without saying anything, Euijoo slipped his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. “It’s okay, you’ll get cold,” she protested softly. “I’ll survive,” he said with a small smile. They kept walking after that. Slower now. Quieter. Eventually, they stopped near a bench overlooking part of the city, the glowing sunset stretching behind the buildings in the distance.
The view was beautiful. But somehow painfully sad too. They sat beside each other silently for a while, the wind softly moving through the trees around them. Then Euijoo finally spoke. “Thank you for today, (Y/n).” She turned slightly toward him. “What do you mean?” Euijoo smiled faintly before looking back toward the setting sun. “This was a nice last date,” he said quietly. “A good ending to our relationship, don’t you think?” (Y/n)’s breath caught. “How did you know?” Euijoo swallowed once before answering. He still didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. Because if he did, he thought maybe he’d lose the courage to say it.
“I felt it too,” he admitted softly. “For a while now.” The words hurt more than she expected. Not because she disagreed. But because hearing him say it out loud made everything final. “We just…” Euijoo paused, searching for the right words. “We weren’t the right fit.” (Y/n) slowly turned her gaze back toward the sunset, too. “It was obvious that whatever we had…” Euijoo continued quietly, “wasn’t really love.” The wind brushed gently past them again. And suddenly, (Y/n) realized what he was doing. Euijoo was trying to make this easier for her. He was trying to be the one ending things because he knew she didn’t know how. Trying to carry the uglier part of the breakup himself so she wouldn’t have to feel guilty. And somehow, that hurt worst of all.
“Euijoo… I’m sorry,” (Y/n) said quietly. Her voice sounded smaller than she intended. Euijoo immediately shook his head. “It’s okay.” For the first time since they sat down, he finally looked at her properly. His expression was soft. Sad, but soft. “We’ve both been thinking about this for a while,” he said gently. “It’s easy to tell.” (Y/n) looked down at her hands resting in her lap. Part of her wanted to argue. Wanted to apologize more. But deep down, she knew he was right. “It’s better to end this now,” Euijoo continued quietly, “before we actually hurt each other.” The wind blew past them again, colder now that the sun had nearly disappeared behind the skyline. Euijoo smiled faintly. “You’re a really nice girl, (Y/n).” His voice wavered just slightly. “I’m lucky I got to be your boyfriend for a bit.” That was what finally broke her.
A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. (Y/n) quickly wiped at it, almost frustrated with herself. She wasn’t supposed to cry. She was the one who lost feelings first. She was the one who had been preparing to end things. But somehow, hearing the relationship had officially ended still hurt. Because rejection hurts no matter what side you stand on. Because endings hurt even when they were necessary. Euijoo noticed the tear immediately, and for a second, his own composure almost cracked too. “I hope we can stay friends,” he said softly. (Y/n) nodded quickly. “I’d love to stay friends.” And she meant it. Euijoo smiled again after hearing that. His eyes had become glossy now, too, though he stubbornly held the tears back. “See you around, (Y/n).”
Slowly, he stood up from the bench. The jacket still rested around her shoulders. “Return the jacket whenever,” he added quietly. (Y/n) knew immediately why he was leaving so fast. He didn’t want to cry in front of her. And honestly, she was grateful for it. Because if he started crying, she thought maybe she would too. So instead, she just sat there while he walked away down the pathway, hands shoved into his pockets as the sunset painted long shadows behind him. “See you around, Euijoo,” she whispered softly. By the time he disappeared from sight, the sun had fully dipped beneath the horizon. A fitting end to their relationship.
(Y/n) stayed sitting on that bench long after Euijoo left. The city slowly shifted from gold to blue around her, the last traces of sunlight disappearing behind the buildings while streetlights flickered to life one by one. People passed occasionally along the pathways nearby, laughing with friends or hurrying home before the night grew colder, but (Y/n) barely noticed any of them. She just sat there quietly with Euijoo’s jacket wrapped around her shoulders, watching the sunset finally fade completely into darkness.
~~~
Meanwhile, across campus, Euijoo stood in a parking lot trying to collect himself. His eyes were still slightly red from holding back tears, though his expression had settled into something calmer now. Tired maybe. Hollow. Still, he stayed leaning against the hood of a nearby car, hands shoved into his pockets, while waiting because there was one more thing he needed to do tonight.
A few minutes later, Niki finally exited the practice building. His gym bag hung loosely over one shoulder while he scrolled through something on his phone with the other hand. The second he spotted Euijoo standing near his car, though, his expression darkened immediately. Niki stopped walking. “What do you want?” he asked coldly. The tone alone made the tension in the parking lot shift instantly. Niki opened the backseat door anyway, tossing his bag inside carelessly without taking his eyes off the wolf. Euijoo straightened slightly. “We need to talk.” Niki scoffed. “About what?”
For a second, silence settled between them. Then Euijoo answered quietly. “About (Y/n).” That got Niki’s full attention immediately. The atmosphere changed so fast it almost felt violent. Niki slowly shut the car door. His eyes bled into glowing red within seconds, sharp fangs extending slightly as instinct and possessiveness surged through him before he could stop it. Euijoo reacted just as quickly. His own eyes flashed yellow, claws threatening to emerge while his fangs extended in warning too. A vampire and a werewolf. Standing alone together in the dark. Neither trusting the other. Neither willing to back down. Cold wind swept through the parking lot as they stared at each other in silence. And honestly? Who knew how this conversation would end.
“What about her?” Niki’s voice dripped with venom. His entire body had gone tense, shoulders stiff as he stared Euijoo down across the dim parking lot. Euijoo sighed quietly. “Look, I don’t want to fight.” Slowly, deliberately, he forced himself back into a fully human appearance. The yellow glow faded from his eyes, claws retracting as he raised his hands slightly in surrender. “Can we just talk?” he asked tiredly. “Guy to guy?” Niki didn’t answer immediately. Every instinct inside him screamed to attack. The vampire side of him hated wolves enough already, but this? This wolf had dated her. Touched her. Kissed her. Niki clenched his fists so tightly his nails nearly cut into his palms. He wanted to slam Euijoo into the concrete until he stopped breathing. But he couldn’t. Shouldn’t.
So after a long moment, Niki let out a slow breath. His fangs gradually disappeared, eyes fading back from glowing red to their usual dark brown. “Fine,” he muttered coldly. “Let’s go to the roof.” Euijoo nodded once. The two of them walked through the quiet campus building in tense silence, neither willing to walk beside the other. The only sounds were distant footsteps echoing through hallways and the soft buzz of fluorescent lights overhead.
Eventually, they reached the rooftop. Night had fully settled over the city now, cool wind sweeping across the open space while lights glittered endlessly below them. At least up there, they knew nobody would interrupt them. Niki stopped near the edge first, turning sharply toward Euijoo. “So,” he said flatly. “What did you want to talk about?” Euijoo stayed quiet for a second, eyes drifting upward toward the moon beginning to rise overhead. Then he finally spoke. “(Y/n) and I just broke up.”
Niki froze. “What?” The reaction was immediate and genuine enough that Euijoo almost laughed bitterly. He slowly looked toward the younger man. “You know,” Euijoo said quietly, “I didn’t know she was your mate.” Niki’s expression darkened slightly again. “I only figured it out last Friday,” Euijoo continued. “If I’d known before, I wouldn’t have dated her.” The wind shifted between them. “We might not be good friends,” Euijoo admitted, “but it’s wrong to try and steal someone else’s mate.” Niki stared at him silently. They broke up. The words repeated inside his head over and over again. They broke up. Part of him had imagined this moment before. Wondered what it would feel like if she became single again. But now that it was actually happening, his mind had completely stopped working. He didn’t know what emotion hit him first. Shock. Relief. Hope. Guilt.
All of it crashed together so violently that for a few seconds, he genuinely couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. He just stood there frozen beneath the moonlight, staring at Euijoo while his heart pounded loud enough to feel painful. “I still like her,” Euijoo admitted quietly. The words immediately made Niki tense again. Euijoo kept his eyes on the city below them instead of looking directly at him. “She’s not my mate,” he continued. “But she’s something close to it.” The wind shifted harshly across the rooftop. “I wish I could stay with her,” Euijoo said honestly. “But it wouldn’t be right.”
Niki’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked. Every word out of Euijoo’s mouth felt like gasoline being poured onto a fire already burning out of control inside him. Before he could properly think, Niki moved. His fist slammed hard into Euijoo’s cheek. The sound echoed sharply across the rooftop. Euijoo staggered slightly from the force, but as a werewolf, the punch barely did any real damage. Honestly, part of him had expected it. Maybe even wanted it. Because the entire reason he came here tonight was to see something. To confirm something. Just how much did Niki care about her?
A spear and a shield. Which one was stronger? Which one won in the end? This time, it was the spear. And deep down, Euijoo already knew that as long as this battle existed between the two of them, Niki would always win. Euijoo slowly looked back at him, a faint bruise already healing beneath the moonlight. “The feeling of kissing her,” he said quietly, “was like being hugged by the sun itself.” That did it. Niki practically growled before throwing another punch. This time, Euijoo caught his fist midair. The impact still sent force through both of them as they struggled against each other, strength pressing violently between vampire and werewolf.
“Are you good enough for her?” Euijoo asked sharply. Niki’s eyes flashed red again instantly. “A reckless half delinquent?” Euijoo continued, gripping his wrist tighter. “Do you honestly deserve her?” For a second, Niki genuinely saw red. His instincts screamed at him to attack. To rip Euijoo apart for daring to question him. But then… Something inside him stopped. Because deep down, the worst part was that Niki had asked himself those exact same questions already. Over and over again. Slowly, his anger loosened. His breathing steadied. And eventually, Niki stopped trying to hit him. Euijoo felt the resistance disappear first.
Niki lowered his fist completely. The silence afterward felt heavier than the fighting itself. Finally, Niki spoke. “I know I’m reckless.” His voice sounded quieter now. Honest. “And I know I need to be better.” Euijoo watched him carefully. Niki leaned back slightly, pulling his wrist free. “I’m working on becoming the person she deserves.” There was no arrogance in his voice anymore. No teasing. No ego. Just truth. “I’m not perfect,” Niki admitted. “But I know one thing.” The moonlight reflected faintly in his dark eyes as he looked directly at Euijoo. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her happy.”
Euijoo stared at him for a long moment before finally smiling faintly. “Good,” he said quietly. Then, before Niki could react, Euijoo stepped forward and punched him hard across the cheek. Niki’s head snapped slightly to the side from the impact. It stung. But otherwise, he barely felt it. Honestly, he didn’t even try to dodge. It was only fair. Slowly, Niki looked back at him, rubbing at his jaw once while Euijoo let out a tired sigh. The werewolf tilted his head upward, staring at the moon hanging above them. “Two more things,” he said. Niki frowned slightly but stayed quiet. The first thing Euijoo told him was a secret. A small one. But useful. Something that would help (Y/n) move through the breakup easier instead of drowning in guilt over it. The second thing he told Niki was where she was right now.
By the time Euijoo finished speaking, Niki was already turning away. He never thought he’d willingly take advice from Euijoo of all people. Yet here he was. Running through campus because of him. Cold wind whipped against Niki’s face as he moved quickly through the dark streets, heart pounding harder the closer he got to the park. It was freezing out. And she was still sitting out there alone. The thought alone made his chest ache. When Niki finally found her, his heart physically hurt at the sight. (Y/n) still sat on the bench overlooking the city, Euijoo’s jacket wrapped tightly around herself while the night wind moved softly through her hair.
She looked so small suddenly. So sad. Her eyes were red from crying. When she noticed him approaching, she blinked in surprise before a weak smile formed on her face. “Niki,” she whispered softly. The sound of her voice nearly destroyed him. Niki walked over quietly before sitting down beside her on the bench. For once, he didn’t tease her. Didn’t joke. Didn’t try to make her laugh immediately. Instead, he simply opened his arms for her silently. That was all it took. (Y/n)’s composure shattered instantly. The second she leaned forward and rested her head against his chest, the tears came harder than before. A broken sob escaped her as she grabbed onto the front of his hoodie tightly.
Niki immediately wrapped his arms around her securely, one hand moving gently through her hair while the other held her close against him. And somehow, that only made her cry more. She felt stupid. Absolutely stupid. This was what she wanted. She had spent days thinking about ending the relationship. Preparing herself for it. So why did it hurt this much? Why did her chest ache like something important had been ripped away from her? Why was she crying like a child who had lost their favorite toy? None of it made sense. “I’m sorry,” she choked out between tears without even knowing what she was apologizing for. Niki’s arms tightened around her immediately. “For what?” he asked softly. (Y/n) shook her head against his chest. “I don’t know.” And honestly? That answer hurt him more than anything else.
Niki let her cry for several more minutes. He didn’t rush her. Didn’t tell her everything would be okay immediately. He just held her quietly while her tears soaked through the front of his hoodie, one hand gently rubbing slow circles against her back. Eventually, her crying softened into uneven breathing. “Let’s go home,” Niki said softly. (Y/n) nodded weakly. Her throat hurt from crying so much. As they stood up from the bench, Niki’s eyes briefly landed on Euijoo’s jacket still wrapped around her shoulders. A sharp sting of jealousy twisted inside him instantly. He hated it. Hated seeing another man’s scent all over her. Hated that she still held onto the jacket so tightly, fingers curled into the fabric like she wasn’t ready to let go yet.
But Niki swallowed the feeling down. Because this wasn’t about him. Not tonight. So instead, he quietly guided her back toward campus. The parking lot was mostly empty now, cold air surrounding them as they walked side by side in silence. Niki occasionally glanced toward her, making sure she was still okay without directly asking. Once they got into the car, the drive home passed in a blur. (Y/n) mostly stared out the window silently while city lights flashed across the glass beside her. Niki kept one hand loosely on the steering wheel, the other clenched slightly in his lap every time he caught the lingering sadness on her face.
By the time they finally got home, it was already very late. The apartment felt unusually quiet when they stepped inside. Niki slipped his shoes off before immediately turning toward her. “You should eat something,” he said gently. “Neither of us had dinner.” (Y/n) shook her head almost instantly. “I’m not hungry.” “Still.” “I can’t.” Niki hesitated. Part of him wanted to insist. But another part knew she needed space more than anything right now. So instead, he simply nodded. “Okay.” (Y/n) gave him a small tired smile before quietly walking toward her room. The second her bedroom door closed, Niki let out a long breath.
He wanted to do more for her. Wanted to fix this somehow. Wanted to make her smile again already. But he knew heartbreak didn’t work like that. She needed time. Needed to actually feel everything instead of burying it away. So Niki forced himself not to hover outside her room like an anxious idiot. Instead, he headed toward his gaming room. Normally he would’ve distracted himself with games or loud music or literally anything else to stop thinking too hard. Tonight, though, he sat at his computer researching something instead.
For nearly an hour, he scrolled through pages and reviews carefully before finally finding exactly what he was looking for. A small smile spread across his face. Perfect. It would arrive on Friday. “Good,” he murmured quietly to himself. “Hopefully she’ll like it.” Despite how late it had gotten, Niki eventually stood up again, making a quick trip to the kitchen, and then headed toward (Y/n)’s room. He knocked softly on the door. He could still hear her moving around inside, which meant she was awake.
A few seconds later, her quiet voice answered. “Come in.” Niki opened the door slowly. (Y/n) sat curled up on the bed wearing oversized pajamas now, her eyes still puffy and red from crying. In his hands was a tray from the kitchen. A sandwich. Some fruit. And a glass of water. Niki walked over awkwardly before setting it carefully beside her. “You need to eat something,” he said. “It’s not much, but…” A sheepish smile appeared briefly on his face. “It’s what I can cook without burning down the kitchen.” A small laugh escaped her despite everything. And honestly, hearing it made something warm spread through his chest instantly. “Thank you, Ki,” she whispered softly. The nickname nearly killed him on the spot. Niki nodded quickly before she could notice how flustered he suddenly felt. “I hope you get some sleep,” he said quietly. Then, before he could say something stupid, he turned and walked back out of the room.
~~~
The next morning, Niki woke up worried. He tried to tell himself she would be okay eventually, that breakups were normal and people moved on all the time, but the image of her crying against his chest the night before still lingered heavily in his mind. Part of him wanted to knock on her door immediately and check on her. The other part knew that would probably annoy her. So instead, he stayed in the kitchen pretending to focus on making coffee while constantly glancing toward the hallway.
The moment her bedroom door finally opened, he looked up immediately. (Y/n) walked into the kitchen quietly, still wearing oversized clothes, her hair slightly messy from sleep. But what immediately caught Niki’s attention was the tray in her hands. Empty. The sandwich was gone. The fruit too. Even the glass of water had been finished. Relief washed through him instantly. At least she had eaten something. Still, when she got closer, he noticed her eyes were still slightly swollen and red. She had cried more after he left her room. The realization made his chest ache quietly. “Good morning,” Niki said softly. (Y/n) looked toward him before offering a small smile. It didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Morning.”
Niki leaned slightly against the kitchen counter, studying her carefully. “How are you feeling?” (Y/n) shrugged weakly. “Okay, I guess.” The answer sounded automatic. Like she didn’t really know yet. Niki nodded slowly. Neither of them spoke for a few seconds after that. The apartment felt strangely quiet compared to usual. Finally, Niki pushed himself off the counter. “Let’s go to uni,” he said gently. “I’m sure Sophia will make you feel better.” That finally earned a slightly more genuine reaction from her. A tiny laugh. “Probably.” Niki grabbed his keys while (Y/n) set the tray down in the sink. As they headed toward the door together, she stopped for a second. “Thanks, Ki,” she said quietly. “For everything.” Niki looked at her for a moment longer than necessary. Then he smiled softly. “Always.”
~~~
Thursday afternoon, when (Y/n) walked into the dance room, Niki immediately noticed she seemed a little better. Not completely. There was still sadness lingering quietly underneath her expression, still a heaviness in her eyes that hadn’t fully disappeared yet. But it was better. Especially because this time, when she smiled, it actually reached her eyes too. Jake walked beside her carrying both his own bag and somehow her water bottle too, talking nonstop about something ridiculous.
“And then the professor looked at me,” Jake said dramatically, “like I was the problem.” “You were most likely, the problem,” (Y/n) laughed. “No, because explain to me why being awake should matter if my grades are excellent?” “That’s not how university works.” “It should be.” Niki found himself smiling before he even realized it. Thank god for Jake honestly. Yuma and Taki quickly joined the conversation too after jogging over from behind them.
“No, wait,” Taki interrupted loudly. “Tell her what happened after class.” Yuma immediately groaned. “No.” “You literally walked into the wrong lecture hall.” (Y/n) burst into laughter immediately. “I was tired!” Yuma defended. “You sat there for fifteen minutes before realizing!” “In my defense, the professor sounded mathishly enough that I thought math had turned into philosophy.” By now everyone was laughing too hard to speak properly. The sound of (Y/n)’s laughter echoed warmly through the practice room, and hearing it again after yesterday made something inside Niki finally relax a little.
Then suddenly the dance room door slammed open dramatically. Everyone turned immediately. And instantly lost it. Nicholas, Sunghoon, Jungwon, and Kei walked into the room wearing the cheapest, ugliest wigs imaginable. Jungwon was neon yellow. Sunghoon’s black bob wig sat halfway off his head while Nicholas somehow wore a bright red wig backwards. Kei’s silver wig looked especially tragic because half the fake hair stuck straight upward like he had been electrocuted. Jungwon looked genuinely dead inside as he looked up at the yellow wig on his head. The four of them posed dramatically near the entrance like runway models.
“Do we look fabulous?” Nicholas asked proudly. (Y/n) doubled over laughing immediately. “Oh my god.” Sunghoon flipped the ends of his horrible wig with absolutely zero shame. “I personally think I look expensive.” “You look haunted,” Jake wheezed. Before anyone could recover properly, Nicholas suddenly yelled, “Hit the music!” And somehow, Kei actually did. The four immediately started dancing dramatically in the middle of the room like they were performing on a giant stage instead of embarrassing themselves in a university practice room.
Within seconds, the wigs started flying everywhere. Nicholas spun too hard and launched the red wig directly at Taki’s face. Sunghoon’s bob slid completely sideways until it covered one eye. Kei dipped Jungwon dramatically during a dance move and his silver wig flew clean off his head before landing on the floor behind them. (Y/n) laughed so hard tears started forming in her eyes again. Not sad tears this time. Real laughter. The kind that made her stomach hurt. Thankfully, Jay and Fuma had already started recording from two completely different angles the second the wigs appeared. “This is going online immediately,” Jay announced between laughs. “Oh, absolutely,” Fuma agreed. “This is blackmail material,” Jake added.
Niki leaned against the mirrored wall, laughing along with everyone else before his gaze drifted back toward (Y/n). She was still laughing hard enough to hold onto Jake’s shoulder for balance. And honestly? Seeing that expression on her face again made relief settle heavily in his chest. Thank god his friends were shameless idiots.
After all the chaos finally settled down, practice truly began. And honestly? The difference compared to just a few weeks ago was insane. Even though Nicholas and Fuma had only joined the team recently, the eleven of them already danced together like they had known each other forever. Their timing matched naturally now, movements flowing together smoothly as if they had been practicing side by side since childhood. (Y/n) stood near the mirrors with her clipboard in hand, watching them carefully while music blasted through the speakers. Niki and Sunghoon moved almost perfectly in sync during one part of the choreography. Somehow, all of them together just worked despite their differences.
During one of the short breaks, (Y/n) quickly edited the wig video on her phone while the boys argued over whose fake hair looked worst. “Nicholas looked like a divorced aunt,” Jake insisted. “I looked fashionable,” Nicholas argued back. “You looked unemployed.” (Y/n) laughed quietly while adding captions and cutting together the funniest clips before finally posting the video online. Honestly, she already knew people were going to love it. Especially the part where Kei’s wig launched across the room like a projectile.
Eventually, after hours of dancing, practice finally came to an end. One by one, the boys started grabbing water bottles, hoodies, and bags scattered around the studio floor. (Y/n) was busy organizing papers on her clipboard when she suddenly realized everyone had gone oddly quiet. She looked up. All eleven boys stood there staring at her. “What?” she asked cautiously. Sunoo smiled first. “We just wanted to say something.” (Y/n) blinked in confusion. Then Jungwon spoke. “If you’re ever feeling down again,” he said softly, “or if you need help with anything…” “We’re all here for you,” Jake finished. “No matter what,” Fuma added with a small smile. “You’re part of the team, right?” Yuma said casually.
The sincerity in their voices caught her off guard completely. For a second, (Y/n) genuinely didn’t know what to say. Then a soft smile slowly spread across her face. “Thanks, guys,” she said quietly. “I’ll remember that next time.” “Good,” Jay nodded dramatically. “Because emotional support is one of my many talents.” “You cried over a sad dog commercial last week,” Nicholas deadpanned. “And?” The room filled with laughter one last time before everyone slowly started heading out.
Eventually, only (Y/n) and Niki remained. Together they walked toward the parking lot outside campus. The air had grown colder now, dark clouds covering most of the evening sky overhead. (Y/n) glanced upward as they approached the car. “Looks like it’ll rain tonight.” Niki looked up too before nodding. “Yeah. Definitely.” The air already smelled like rain. (Y/n) smiled slightly while climbing into the passenger seat. “How about soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner then?” Niki looked at her in disbelief before laughing. “That sounds like something a child would eat.” (Y/n) immediately pouted at him. “Hey. It’s my favorite food on rainy days.” Niki chuckled while starting the car. “I didn’t say it sounded bad.” He glanced toward her briefly. “Just childish.” (Y/n) crossed her arms dramatically. “You’re uninvited from dinner.” “Too late,” Niki replied smugly. “I’ll eat whatever you cook.”
The rest of the night passed peacefully. Rain eventually started tapping softly against the apartment windows while (Y/n) stood in the kitchen making broccoli soup and extremely cheesy grilled cheese sandwiches. Niki had complained the entire time. “That is way too much cheese.” “There’s no such thing.” “Yes, there is.” “No, there isn’t.” Then ten minutes later he ended up stealing half her sandwich anyway. “You’re a hypocrite,” (Y/n) accused while pointing at him dramatically. Niki shrugged without shame. “I never said it wasn’t good.”
The warmth of the apartment, mixed with the sound of rain and the easy conversation between them, made something inside (Y/n) finally settle a little. Not completely. There was still sadness lingering quietly in the back of her mind. But it didn’t feel crushing anymore. Just sore. Tomorrow was Friday. She didn’t have classes, which meant she could spend the day buying hair dye and supplies for Saturday before heading to dance practice afterward. At least staying busy helped.
By the time they finished eating and cleaning the kitchen, it had already gotten pretty late. As they stood near the hallway ready to head to their rooms, Niki suddenly held something out toward her. (Y/n) blinked. A card. She stared at him questioningly. “Here.” (Y/n) tilted her head slightly. “Why are you handing me a card?” Niki sighed like this should’ve been obvious. “Because you need to buy the dye and everything tomorrow,” he explained. “And that stuff’s expensive.” (Y/n) looked back down at the card in surprise. “So use mine.” For a second, she just stared at him. Then slowly took it from his hand. “Okay…” she said carefully. “If you say so.” Niki nodded casually. “Buy whatever you want.” The words sounded completely normal to him. To her? Absolutely insane. He said it so casually too. Like buying enough supplies to dye half the team’s hair wouldn’t cost a small fortune.
Niki stretched slightly before starting toward his room. “Night.” “Goodnight.” Once he disappeared down the hallway, (Y/n) looked back down at the card in her hand again. “Stupid rich kid,” she muttered under her breath affectionately. Still, she carefully slipped the card into her bag so she wouldn’t forget it tomorrow. Then she headed to her own room. The second she walked inside, her eyes automatically landed on Euijoo’s jacket draped over the chair near her desk.
For a moment, she just stood there quietly. The breakup still hurts. But somehow, tonight, the pain felt softer around the edges. Less sharp than before. Eventually she changed into pajamas and climbed into bed, exhaustion finally catching up to her properly. That night, she dreamed about returning the jacket to Euijoo. Not dramatically. Not painfully. Just quietly handing it back to him while both of them smiled sadly at each other. When she woke briefly in the middle of the night, still half asleep, one thought lingered in her mind. She didn’t know exactly when she’d return it. But she knew she wouldn’t keep it forever.
~~~
As Friday came around, (Y/n) spent most of the day out running errands. At first she thought buying hair dye would be simple. It absolutely was not. She ended up standing in beauty supply stores for nearly an hour comparing shades while trying to remember exactly what colors she had suggested for everyone earlier in the week. Eventually though, she found the perfect ones. At least in her opinion. A cool blonde for Niki and Sunoo. A deep vivid blue for Jay. And a rich red shade for Nicholas. She even bought extra boxes just in case somebody else suddenly decided they wanted a makeover too, or if they underestimated how much dye they’d need. Afterward, she bought snacks. Then more snacks. Then drinks. Then more drinks because Yuma and Jake together could apparently consume enough soda to feed a small army. By the time she finally loaded everything into the car, the backseat looked ridiculous. (Y/n) sighed dramatically while closing the trunk. “Thank god Niki lent me the car,” she muttered to herself. “I would’ve died carrying all this.”
Meanwhile, back at campus, Niki had temporarily disappeared during lunch break. The second he got the message of the mailman approaching their apartment building earlier than expected, he had practically vanished using vampire speed before anyone could question him. A few minutes later, he arrived home just in time to grab the package from the delivery guy. The second the apartment door shut behind him, Niki immediately opened the box. A grin spread slowly across his face. “It looks great,” he whispered to himself. Carefully, he hid it away inside his room before speeding back to campus fast enough that nobody even realized he had left in the first place.
The rest of the day passed quickly after that. Dance practice especially seemed to blur together. With barely a month left until the showcase, everyone had started taking things much more seriously. Breaks became shorter. Corrections were listened to immediately. Even the usual chaos during practice had become more focused now. Still chaotic. Just productive chaos. Jake also finally received his adjusted stage pants back. Turns out the entire disaster from before had happened because somebody accidentally swapped two measurement sticky notes. Which explained why the original pair had fit him like a medieval punishment device. “These are so much better,” Jake sighed dramatically while stretching comfortably. “I can finally breathe again.” “You’re so brave,” Nicholas replied flatly. “I know.”
By the time practice ended, everyone looked exhausted. Well. Everyone except Kei, who still somehow looked perfectly fine. As (Y/n) and Niki headed back toward the car together afterward, Niki glanced over at her carefully. She looked tired. Not emotionally this time. Just genuinely exhausted. Between the breakup, errands, social media work, practice schedules, and organizing literally everything for the team, she had been nonstop busy all week. Niki opened the passenger door for her before speaking. “Why don’t we order takeout tonight?”
(Y/n) immediately yawned while climbing into the seat. Honestly, the sound was adorable. “That sounds good,” she mumbled tiredly. Niki smiled slightly before shutting the car door for her. Good. Because there was absolutely no way he was letting her cook after today. As they parked in the garage of the apartment building, Niki stepped out first and walked around to open the trunk. The second it lifted open, he froze. The trunk was absolutely stuffed with bags. Hair dye boxes, drinks, snacks, disposable gloves, extra towels, chips, candy, and enough instant noodles to survive an apocalypse. Niki stared at it in genuine shock.
“How did you even fit all of this in here?” he asked. “And more importantly, this must’ve been insanely heavy.” (Y/n) climbed out of the passenger seat slowly, immediately yawning again before laughing softly. “I’ve never really hosted a party or dinner before,” she admitted. “So I wasn’t sure how much stuff to get.” She pointed toward the bags dramatically. “But based on how much you eat, and what I’ve seen from the others…” She narrowed her eyes accusingly at him. “We needed a lot.” Niki laughed loudly. “Okay, fair.” (Y/n) looked back toward the overflowing trunk. “I might have gone a little overboard though.” “Oh no,” Niki grinned. “This’ll definitely all get eaten.”
Then his expression softened slightly as he glanced at the bags again. “I’m just thinking it must’ve been heavy carrying all of this around earlier.” (Y/n) immediately straightened proudly before flexing her arm dramatically. “I’m a strong independent woman,” she declared confidently. “I’m fine.” Then another huge yawn interrupted her sentence. Niki burst out laughing. “Sure you are.” (Y/n) glared at him weakly while rubbing one eye sleepily. Niki shook his head fondly before starting to grab bags from the trunk. “Well then,” he said casually, “would the independent woman help me carry some of this upstairs?” (Y/n) nodded immediately. “Of course.”
She reached for several bags, only to realize a second later that every single one Niki handed her was suspiciously light. Meanwhile he casually picked up the heavier ones like they weighed absolutely nothing. (Y/n) narrowed her eyes slightly at him. Niki avoided eye contact instantly. Still, she decided not to mention it. Mostly because she was too tired to argue. Together they headed toward the elevator carrying the bags while rain tapped steadily against the windows outside the lobby. The elevator ride was quiet and comfortable. (Y/n) leaned tiredly against the wall while Niki stood beside her balancing far too many bags in his hands without any visible struggle at all. Honestly, vampire strength was unfair.
After putting away all the snacks, drinks, and hair dye into the fridge and pantry, both of them looked exhausted. “Well,” Niki sighed dramatically while closing the pantry door, “we officially have enough food to survive a natural disaster.” (Y/n) laughed tiredly. “Good. That’s exactly what I was aiming for.” Niki pulled out his phone afterward and ordered takeout while (Y/n) wandered over to the couch. She curled up comfortably beneath a blanket and started flipping through movies on the TV, trying to decide what she wanted to watch. Every few seconds she switched genres entirely. Romance. Horror. Comedy. Back to romance.
“You’re never gonna pick something at this rate,” Niki called from the kitchen. “I’m trying.” “You’ve rejected like twelve movies already.” “They all look bad.” Niki snorted softly before disappearing down the hallway toward his room. A minute later, he returned holding the package from earlier. The one he had rushed home to grab. (Y/n) barely looked away from the TV at first when he sat down beside her. “Here,” Niki said awkwardly. She blinked before finally noticing the box in his hands. “What’s this?” Niki immediately looked away toward the television instead of at her. A faint blush spread across his cheeks. “It’s a gift,” he muttered. “Just open it.” (Y/n) giggled softly at how weirdly nervous he suddenly looked. Still, she took the box carefully from him before opening it.
The second she looked inside, she froze. Then gasped. “Niki…” Slowly, she pulled the dress out of the box with shaking hands. Tears immediately gathered in her eyes. It was identical. The exact same dress her old roommates had ruined before she moved out. The same color. The same fabric. Even the tiny details matched. For a second, she genuinely couldn’t speak. Niki watched her carefully from beside her, relief slowly filling his chest seeing her reaction. He had been terrified she wouldn’t like it. Or worse, that she’d think it was weird.
“How did you?” she whispered softly. Niki smiled a little. Honestly, the credit wasn’t entirely his. That night on the rooftop with Euijoo, after the fighting and arguing finally settled down, Euijoo had quietly shown him a listing online. An identical dress. Apparently while they were dating, Euijoo once asked (Y/n) to show him pictures of the ruined dress because she had talked about it so sadly. After seeing it, he spent days searching for one like it. But after the breakup, Euijoo decided it would be better if Niki gave it to her instead. Maybe because he already understood who she truly belonged with.
Niki looked down awkwardly while rubbing the back of his neck. “I just thought…” He shrugged slightly. “You deserved to have it again.” That was what finally made tears spill down her cheeks. Not sad tears this time. Something softer. Overwhelmed. (Y/n) carefully set the dress beside her before suddenly throwing her arms around Niki tightly. The force nearly knocked the air out of him. “Thank you,” she whispered against his shoulder. Niki froze for half a second before immediately hugging her back. And honestly? He thought he could stay like this forever.
Niki was reckless. Impulsive. Impatient sometimes too. He acted nonchalant most of the time, like nothing truly bothered him, like he didn’t care deeply about much beyond dancing, teasing people, and doing whatever he wanted. In many ways, he really was the perfect spear. Sharp. Dangerous. Always charging forward before thinking. But beneath all of that, beneath the attitude and teasing grin and fake arrogance, Niki was soft in ways most people never got to see. He cared deeply about the people closest to him. About the team. About his friends. About her more than anyone. A perfect shield in that sense.
Whether spear or shield though, Niki was still just a person underneath it all. And while he often hid the softer side of himself behind jokes and recklessness, he had made a promise. To be better for her. And maybe this… Maybe this was the first real step in that direction. Spear versus shield. What a stupid analogy, Niki thought. Especially now. Because sitting there with (Y/n) hugging him tightly while tears of happiness filled her eyes, he didn’t feel like either of those things. He just felt human. Slowly, Niki tightened his arms around her a little more, resting his chin lightly against the top of her head. He knew the moment wouldn’t last forever. Soon their food would arrive. One of their phones would ring. The outside world would interrupt them again. But for now, he stayed there quietly inside her embrace, allowing himself to enjoy the warmth of her happiness for just a little longer.
~~~ The End of Chapter 6 ~~~
(Y/n) and Euijoo finally broke up, can Niki truly begin to make his moves now?
Do you guys agree with the dance team’s hair colors? Or will it be a mess?
Let me know what you guys thought! And how do you think the next chapter will turn out?
eventually life got to a point where the trees sat naked in front of you as you passed them. the leaves on the ground ended up soiled and hidden from the ice and snow covering the ground. the gloom of the sky even mid-day was more chilling than the crisp cold of the air nipping at your nose as the wind hit you in the face the moment you stepped outside. winter wasn’t you favorite season, but the beauty of the lights and decorative trimming around town always managed to put you in the christmas spirit.
it was only a few days until 2027 dawned upon the society you know of currently. the break between your fall and spring semester finally came about. you passed your classes my a sliver of luck, and now you had a month of quiet fun with your friends ahead of you.
sunoo finally found an apartment in the area, a good middle point between you and his university. commuting was still a factor on the table, but it was something he would figure out when your break came closer to its close. a few days prior to the current moment, your little found family decided to host the christmas gift exchange at sunoo’s new apartment. it was a sweet house warming, but fitting everyone in the house was a tight squeeze.
“okay okay, everyone needs to find a seat and stay in it. there’s 9 of us and i definitely didn’t think i would lack so much space.” sunoo laughs, getting comfortable on the sofa next to sunghoon. sunghoon smiles, putting his arm around his waist, sunoo leaning into his frame as he sat.
the group all sat somewhere around sunoo’s pretty light pink christmas tree, the ornaments and lights shined a silver lighting surrounding the pink branches. each of you wearing the silly grinch pajamas jake got for you, making sure each and every one of you had a onesie to match with the rest.
riki laid flat on his back on the floor next to the tree with his head on your kneeling lap. his phone hovered over his face in his hands, his eyes glued to his screen for at least 20 minutes now. you look down at him, quickly taking his phone from his hand and dropping it down the next of your onesies, pulling the hood down and bit-being none of you had pockets. “off your phone. it’s family time.” you say.
riki sat up quickly, turning his head to face you with his eyebrows furrowed and a pout on his face. “hey what the fuck?!” he says. “you can have it back later. watch jake open his gift.” you say.
“pigs will fly the day i give a shit about jake’s gift.” riki says, crossing his arms and laying his head where it originally sat. “rude.” jake rolls his eyes, as heeseung comes back into the living room with a large box. “okay, it’s not heavy, but you have to be gentle with it. extremely gentle. and it’s yours, but it’s staying with me until you get your own place.” he says, placing the wrapped box in front of jake.
“wait, why?” jake asks, starting to slow upwrap the box. “well, you’ve wanted one of these since you were a kid. your parents always told you no because you were irresponsible, and well, you are. but! i saw this one and immediately know you had to have it. she reminded me of you. so, i got her and hid her from your somehow for a week.” heeseung says. “her?” jake asks.
before heeseung can open his mouth to respond, a small noise comes from the box. a whine, and a bark, changing the look on jake’s face from confusion to awe. “no way. no way!” he says, immediately ripping the lid off the box.
second later, a small puppy with blonde and white fur popped up from the bottom, paws sitting on the ledge and her tongue hanging from her mouth. her left ear pointed upright as the left one hung over itself.
the whole group broke out into gasps and an array of “awe’s” upon seeing her. jake’s eyes welled in tears as he looked okay at heeseung, who smiled. “merry christmas.” heeseung said. “i love you so much. and i love her too.” jake said, quickly wiping his eyes and taking the puppy from the box. she sat in his lap, one of his arms petting her back and the other under her chin.
“i stopped at the shelter to blow of some steam after i mad a few plays last week. i figured playing with puppies could cool me off after dealing with druggies for hours. i saw her and couldn’t resist.” heeseung says, his hand finding her head to scratch it. “her name is layla. but you can call her whatever you want.”
“no, i like layla. she’s layla, layla is great.” jake says, unable to shift the pout on his face as he rested his cheek on her head over heeseung’s hand. “this is the best gift ever bambi. you’re really my best friend.”
heeseung watches jake in admiration, the smol never leaving his face. he moves his hand to jake’s face, rubbing the back of his hand against his upward facing cheek for a moment before pulling back and fixing his posture. “i love you too man. but you really have to find an apartment now. she needs a forever home.” he says. jake nods. “i will. i don’t wanna have to leave her at anyone else house. i love her. and i appreciate you doing this for me.” he says.
“hey that’s not fair, sunghoon got me socks and underwear. where’s my puppy?” riki jokes. “i should’ve gotten your ass coal.” sunghoon rolls his eyes. the room laughs. “riki, you have enough animals.” jungwon says. “bruh, not anymore. they all died.” riki says.
“good lord, not only does he kill people he kills animals too.” lara says. riki sat up quickly, turning back to face her. “no. don’t say that. that’s not funny.” he says, his tone flat and no longer silly as it was before. the space is silent for a second, before lara decides to be the bigger person to save the mood. “i’m sorry. i was just joking.”
“it’s alright just, don’t say things like that. i don’t mean to kill the vibe. it was just a little too far. just people. never animals.” riki says, taking a deep breath before resting his head back on your thighs. you look down at him, nodding comfortingly as you push the hair from his face. you weren’t sure why that triggered him how it did, but you knew you didn’t want him to get bent out of shape over it after things were just so nice.
“okay, i wanna give my gift to sunoo now.” sunghoon said, shifting back to the content state that you all had prior established. he quickly stands from his seat, going under the tree and getting the small bag from under the tree and sitting back next to him. “it’s small but, i hope you’ll like anyway.”
sunoo pulls the tissue paper from the bag, seeing the card and the small, black rectangular box at the bottom of the bottom. he quickly takes it out, opening the box to see a sparkly diamond ring attached to a gold band. next to it, a gold necklace with a round circular charm with a heart engraved on the front of it.
“sunghoon, this is so pretty.” the smile, soft on his face. “i love it. it must’ve been so expensive.” he says. sunghoon starts to take the necklace from the box, handing it to sunoo’s free hand. “it was. and it’s even better when you look in the locket.” he says.
“it’s a locket?” sunoo slips his nail into the latch, popping the circle open. inside the right side was a picture of himself and sunghoon, their chests pressed close against each other. sunoo’s arms wrapped over sunghoon’s neck, with sunghoon’s draped over his wait. he leaned his head onto sunoo’s, who’s was sweetly buried in the crook of his neck, turned back to face the camera taking the photo. in the photo, sunghoon wore a brown cowboy hat to match his yellow plaid shirt and cow printed vest. sunoo wore a white long sleeve with a yellow printing across his shoulders and on the cuffs of his wrists. his red hand hung down his back from around his neck. on the left door of the locker, a yellow sun was engraved, the words, “my sunshine” within it. they both smiled so brightly, their expressions as if they had never been so happy in their lives.
sunoo looks toward him sunghoon soft eyes with a frown. “it’s from our first date. you took me to see the toy story movie.” he says. “i love toy story.” his voice breaks a bit. sunghoon smiles, bringing his hand to his back. “you should read the car. it’s a little personal but, i want everyone to be able to hear it anyway.”
sunoo puts the necklace in his lap, taking the card from the envelop. the front of the card consisted of a christmas tree, a few hearts in the surrounding area. he opened it to see no automated message like a typical card, just a small paragraph in sunghoon’s hand writing.
“to my sunshine. merry christmas. i know it’s only been a few months, but i find that the last few months with you have made my life easier and have more important, made me a better person. i never thought i’d be able to openly be who i was before i met you. i kinda accepted i’d be the same typical DL you’d find in our environment. but you changed my entire mentality on being myself, and have made me want to openly be who i am no matter what. that being said, i have a very important question for you, and i hope you’ll say yes. with all the love in my heart, sunghoon.” sunoo reads, his eyes trailing back to the box as he closes the card, seeing the ring removed from the box.
he looks back over at sunghoon, who’s body is faced fully toward him, ring in hand. “may i be your boyfriend?” he asks softly, the smile on his face gentle.
sunoo immediately breaks his neck to look in your direction, both your faces fully ecstatic. a few seconds later, he turns back to sunghoon nodding. “i thought you’d never ask!” he says, throwing himself at sunghoon, giving him a tight hug. sunghoon laughs, hugging him back for a moment before sliding the ring on his finger and kissing him on his cheek.
“that may have just been cuter than the puppy.” jungwon says. “sunghoon serenade me next.” riki laughs. you look at sunoo with a smile, seeing him giggly and joyful as sunghoon brings the necklace around his neck. you know you’re happy for your friend, you know he deserves this more than anything, but you can’t help but feel a pit in your stomach a bit.
you look down at riki for a moment. his head turned to face jungwon, them bantering and laughing with one another from afar of one another. you can’t help but feel a little sad. your heart is a little sad. the sweet moment made you wish riki was a bit more like his older brother when it came to the romantics, but at the end of the day, you weren’t his girlfriend, and you knew he wasn’t obligated to do things for you like that.
the memory was a sweet one. seeing everyone get each other nice things, seeing how truly invested each of you were in your friendships-it gave you a little more faith in humanity.
it wasn’t anything people had realized yet, but layla was so genuinely important to jake. even in just the few days of having her, he couldn’t be spotted without her. he brought her everywhere, shared his meals with her, he even cleaned out his entire back seat and dressed it with bedding and stuffed animals just for her. he didn’t care that no one else could sit back there during his rides. he just cared that she was comfortable.
he needed her, more than ever. after months of arguing and back and fourths, manon finally cut him off again. he was broken and lost. he knew this time, chances were high of it being fully over between them. heeseung knew about all of it. he knew his friend needed something, someone, even if it was just a dog. but to jake, layla wasn’t just a dog. she was his everything.
you haven’t spoken to manon much since the break up in november. you check in every now and then, but she just seems uninterested in your friendships. it’s like she knows you’re close with jake, and is doing everything she can to get rid of him as a whole, even if it means removing you from her life. lara was a big similar. she was a bit distant, not as bad as manon, but clearly she was trying to hold a respect for her friend. you expect none the less from her. she’s always been a girls girl, and she’s never liked jake. still, she came to the group events, and played very cordial when he was in the room. at the end of the day, it wasn’t her relationship to worry about.
as
for your own relationship, if you even dared to call it that, your secret surprisingly stayed a secret. nothing truly changed since the end of summer. riki presented himself at your door, night after night, his intentions clearer than the sky above you. it didn’t bother you. you were okay with being nothing more than friends who had sex. besides, riki was a headache. he slept on top of you when half the room was available, he always wanted to argue over something stupid and overall he was just a delinquent. you could never find love in your heart for someone who acted like him.
of course, you did your best to keep it from sunghoon. you still kept it from everyone. you were a bit embarrassed to still be sleeping with riki after all. you didn’t want the whole world to know you liked criminal cock. you were a good girl, imagine getting caught up in bed with… him.
speaking of the devil, riki laid draped across your sofa, his phone on front of him as the tv played soft noises and conversation in the back. you stood at the sink, cleaning off the dishes from the chinese take out the two of you got not too long ago. suddenly, you hear riki shuffle around the couch, turning your head a bit to see him talking toward you.
“jay has a gig this weekend in harlem. what are we thinking?” he says, leaning over the counter as he points his phone at you. on the screen, a flyer with jay plastered on the front with some his boys. a music gig at the harlem holiday festival. your eyes scanned from left to right, seeing the 6 members of the group, to your surprise not knowing any of them, until your eyes met jay. his red guitar visible with the string slung over his shoulder, his typical leather jacket with the white button down and jeans. you’ve seen it a million times. but for some reason, it had a different shine to it.
at the top of the poster, in bold letters read the word, “ENHYPEN.” the rest of the acts in small letters bellow, each spaced out decently from one another. jay’s group was headlining the festival.
“they’re headlining? didn’t they just lose a guy..?” you start. “yeah. but the show must go on i guess.” riki shrugs, looking at the poster before clicking the off button on his phone and facing down on the counter. “i feel bad for them. that’s a pretty big event in the city. it’s gotta suck to not be able to headline it with your friend. i can’t imagine how the lost member feels.” you say. “well i don’t know how he feels but i know jay feels like shit. it would be nice of us to go support him.” riki says.
you raise and eyebrow with a smirk, leaning your left hand on the counter while turning to face riki. “what does nishimura riki know about being nice?” you tease, poking him with sarcasm. “don’t be a smartass. i’m not awful all the time. seriously though, what’s the move? i think we should go.” riki rolls his eyes before speaking. “we can go. but we’re leaving as soon as jay’s group finishes. i’m not staying to watch anyone else’s sets. it’s not like i know any of those guys anyway.” you say, walking toward the couch.
you drop down into your comfortable spot as your next sentence comes out. “some guy named jimin was on there. who even is that?” you ask. riki slowly makes his way over to you, leaning his upper body and arms on the arm rest. he raises his knees, kicking his feet trying to keep his balance like a kid trying to show you a trick. “a guy from this bts group. the rest of them are in military service so he’s gonna be on his own.” he says, his eyes looking up at you through his eyebrows.
“well bts sounds kinda stupid. and cut that out before you hurt yourself” you snark. “well so does enhypen.” riki says, moving off the arm rest and seating himself across from you on the couch. “it does. but jay is in enhypen and he’s talented so i’ll let it slide. i think all boy groups are stupid anyways though.” you say.
“yeah, like why are you, as a man, singing and dancing in tight ass pants? there’s gotta be some kinda catch or benefit.” riki says. “money. and probably women.” you shrug. “they are definitely not pulling women wearing skinny jeans like that. they better not put jay in some gay ass pants either.” riki laughs. you smile and roll your eyes.
“you just hate skinny jeans.” you say. “uh, yeah. that’s how you spot a gay man from a mile away. wear what you want, just not skinny jeans. i’m shocked your friend doesn’t own pants like that.” riki says. “he’s a man of class.” you nod. “i think he’d run from anyone wearing skinny jeans.”
the week passes at the speed of light, and you find yourself bundled up from head to toe, icy air nipping at your nose as you stand against the barricade of the stage. riki managed to get you guys a good spot to watch the show, telling all the security about how he’s jay’s little ex-convict. you were able to get in early and skip the barricade rush. it was almost too perfect.
riki stood next to you, leaning on the barricade in front of him, staring at the lights, the big screen and the stage ahead of the both of you. his arms rested on the gates bar, gloved hands hanging down a bit as his body tilted forward on his feet. “he doesn’t know we’re here.” he says, his eyes not parting from the sight in front of him. you turn your head to look at him before you speak. “you didn’t tell him?” you ask. riki shakes his head before turning it to face you. “he doesn’t have anyone at these shows for him. i figured it would be a nice surprise.” he says. “he usually just leaves as soon as they get done with the music and the pictures. his bandmates always have friends and family to come and congratulate them, so he gets out of here before he has to deal with the contrast that brings.”
“coming here was a good idea then.” you agree. “yeah. i promised him when i got out i’d come to as many of these as possible. this is the first one i finally had time for. i also didn’t wanna come alone so,” riki says. “well i’m sure even if you did come alone it would mean the world to him.” you reassure him. riki shrugs. “the more the merrier. besides, live music is always a good date.” he says, turning his head back to the stage. you smile and shake your head.
before you know it, the crowd moves in around you, and the show starts. the lights on the stage dim and change colors as the screen starts to shift and the dancers crowd the stage. “dancers? i thought they were a traditional band.” you start. suddenly, a name shows on the screen and music starts, as someone rises from the center. “how’s everyone doing tonight?!” the voice speaks. the crowd cheers before the male speaks again. “that’s awesome! my names jimin, and i’m gonna make sure we start this festival the right way!” he says.
“jimin?!” you say, looking at riki. “did i mention the headliner always plays last?” he laughs quickly, as you suck your teeth and shove him playfully.
a few hours pass, 7 of the 8 acts playing through. it’s close to midnight at this point, and the crowd is as packed as you could imagine. the barricade sucks you in, not in an uncomfortable way, but still impressively. the space between each person was slim, but still close enough to keep you warm. you never realized how big some of these gigs were. hundreds of local new yorkers surround the area, from the barricade to the entrance. all of these people, and they’re all joined here to see enhypen. they’re all here to see jay.
as the hours past prior, you realized how close the crowd had slowly pushed you and riki toward each other. you stood now in the space between you and riki with him standing behind you. his chest planted flush against your back, his arms leaning forward and his hands stayed on the barricade in front of you, arms close around your body but not close enough to keep constant contact. he held the barricade, not in manner that seemed as though he was unable to move, but in a protective way. it felt as if he was doing what he could to keep people away from you.
and the last artist walked of the stage your eyes panned down to look at his hands. knuckles red and his skin pale from the cold, his gloves in his jacket pocket. the grip on the bar would be better without the gloves. it would be easier to hold onto. better to keep you within his space now. you glance behind you, noticing his head tilted a bit upward, like if he’s avoiding too much physical contact. it made you think about the impossible. it made you consider things you knew couldn’t be real. he’s just being a gentlemen. that’s why he’s keeping you among him. if it was anything else, he’d be much closer. right?
moments later, the lights turn a whiteish-blue color, a group of 6 mean on the stage. in the center, a man stood behind a microphone on the stand. on the far left, two bassists almost directly next to each other. right side diagonal behind the lead singer, a man sat behind a drum set. in the far left back corner, a table set up with a computer and music interface stood in front of another member. and on the left closest to the lead singer, stood jay in all of his glory. his hair slicked as always, his baggy camo cargos hung low on his waist, leaving less than an ounce of skin showing between the white t shirt. and of course, his leather jacket with his red guitar. you smiled as you realize how close you really were, and at how riki really chose the perfect spot to get him almost directly in front of you. the smile on his face was smug, but filling. he was glowing. you’d never seen him shine like that before. he’s truly someone else on stage.
“he looks amazing.” you say, your eyes never leaving his frame. “he always does. just hits different when you see him in action.” riki says. “have you seen him in action?” you ask. “somewhat. he used to sing to me all the time in jail. this is the first i get to see him on a stage in person though.” he says.
“what’s good harlem!” the lead singer speaks into the mic with high energy, the crowd cheering even louder than before in response. they were all truly here for enhypen.
“hope you all have been enjoying the show this far! if you know us, welcome back to our show! if not, we are enhypen! allow us to introduce ourselves!” he says. “my name is mark lee, i’m the lead singer of enhypen!” his words are interrupted as the crowd cheers.
mark looks over at the bassists, nodding at them as the walk toward the microphone. mark takes a step back to give them space behind the mic. “i’m ricky.” one man speaks. “and i’m yujin.” the other speaks. “and we’re the bassists!” the say together, smiles on their faces through their words. the crowd cheers again, the two walking back to their corner.
the drummer stands from behind the drum set, as a staff member hands him a microphone briefly. “what’s up, my names seunghan! i play the drums for the group!” he says. as expected, the crowd cheers loudly. he sits back down on his stool as the staff member brings the mic over to the fourth member.
“it’s T.O.P the one and only, i’m our producer and tech instrumentalist for live shows!” he says into the mic, making a peace sign with his hands as he speak. the staff member quickly heads back the curtain the opposite way he came, careful to not disrupt any of the idols contact.
you and riki simultaneously look over at jay, him still not noticing your presence. he looks at mark with a shy smile, shaking his head. you can see mark from the corner of your eye, nodding and motioning for him to come to the microphone. “cmon, the fans should know why we’re here right now!” you can hear marks words very faintly in the distance of the microphone. jay lets out a sigh, your eyes following him as he walks and stands in the center of the stage, the mic in front of him.
“hey. my names jay. i’m the leader and founder of enhypen, but more importantly, i’m our guitarist.” he says quickly, before heading back to his original stance. the crowd is beaming louder than ever. it’s seemingly impossible to not love park jongseong.
mark smiles walking forward as he gives jay a thumbs up. “thank you so much for coming to our show today. we’ve been having a hard time, and this gig really means everything to us. we’ve got a great lineup of songs for you today, including some christmas covers! so we hope you enjoy!” he says.
without seconds to spare, the group start their first song. you sang and danced along to the songs as they played throughout the hour, turning back and fourth between riki and the barricade and you sang the lyrics in each others faces. it was a relief to finally hear some music you know.
as amazing as the band was, you couldn’t seem to keep your eyes of jay whenever they weren’t on riki. it was fascinating to you, how he was able to be so cool, classy and sexy at the same time. his stage presence was like no other. for someone who wasn’t the star of the group, he truly stuck out as if he was. it was no wonder all eyes were on him, his hand when it came to strings was truly like nothing you had never seen before. through every single song, he played that guitar like he would never play again once the song stopped. his entire heart and soul was put into every millisecond of every beat. he hadn’t screwed up a single time, and if he did, you certainly didn’t notice. he was just that good at what he did.
it made you wonder, how he wasn’t married. how he was alone most of the time. how he ended up as a police officer when he had the talent and drive to do so much move. he had exactly what it took to be selling out stadiums for world tours, instead he lived a life where his biggest gig was your city’s local christmas fest. he deserved more. you could see it. the light in his eyes when he played that guitar of him made you see him in a different light. for the first time, it gave you leeway to see him for who he truly was inside.
before you knew it, they were down to their last song. the crowd cheered and clapped as the instrumental to ‘last christmas’ by wham faded away from the prior cover, mark stepping to the right wing of the stage for a moment. he disappears for a moment, and the light in jay’s eyes immediately dims out like a lightbulb blacking out. his face fell, he swallows hard. you can see the pace of his chest pick up with his breathing. where on earth could his confidence have possibly flew off to?
soon after, mark returns to the stage with a second mic in his hand. the crowd behind you letting out cheers as he starts to speak again. “alright, i have some good news and some bad news. what do you want first?” he teases. the large multitude of concert goers behind you shout in mixed responses between good and bad, the people shouting the word ‘bad’ managing to overpower. “well, the bad news is. this next song is our last.” mark speaks. the crowd breaks out in a serious of booing and complaints. “i know i know, but it’s almost 2am and we do have day jobs still. we wish we could stay and perform longer too.” mark laughs. “but! there’s still good news. the good news is, we’ve got an amazing encore song for you.” he starts, looking over at jay.
jay’s feet drag across the stage a bit as he makes his way to the microphone on the stage, mark crossing him to take his place. “for this song, i need you guys to make as much noise as possible. our wonderful leader jay will be taking my place as lead singer for this song. it’s his first time singing in front of a crowd, so please make him feel as loved as possible!” mark finishes.
the flock of people erupts in shouting and uplifting as jay stands front and center of the stage. your head shoots back to look at riki, seeing his shocked expression matching yours. “no fucking way!” he says.
“thank you, thank you. i hope i can make you all proud.” jay says, clearly nervous but his confidence still finding its way to shine through a bit. the music starts, the intro to ‘all i want for christmas’ by mariah carey plays as jay’s voices fills the mic. you hop around in excitement for a moment, before settling to listen to jay.
as the slow start of the song plays, you take the chance to admire the quality of jay’s vocals. he’s stable, firm, and strong in his use of his mixed register. you notice his nerves calming slowly as the crowd sings along with him word for word.
as you sing along for a second, before melting back into riki’s chest. your head lays diagonally to his right shoulder, your own arms hugging your sides. slowly and gently, you feet his head resting down on yours, his hands finally leaving the barricade. he brings his up to your torso, wrapping them under your own arms. you can hear him singing the lyrics under his breath, falling into him more and more as the moment passes.
as the song goes on, the upbeat music of course gets you both dancing with high energy. you hold riki’s hand in yours, shifting around as you sing to each other joyfully. after dancing around for a bit, you notice riki slowly stopping and turning his attention to the stage.
jay’s hands shake a bit around his guitar as he plucks at the strings, his eyes closed tightly for a bit, before he looks toward mark. mark, who’s on backup vocals, dances and moves around the stage so smoothly, making sure to shoot jay a reassuring nod. as jay faces his eyes toward the crowd again, you hear riki shout.
“go jay!” he yells, jumping up and down and waving his arms. you look back and fourth between jay and riki and before deciding to join him. “yeah jay! woo-hoo! go jay, go!” you cheer, hopping around and clapping your hands.
jay’s eyes pan the crowd from left to right, finding you both near the center of the barricade to the right. his eyes widen, the fear in his face immediately fading into a smile as he waves at you. “he saw us, he saw us!” you shout, jumping into riki’s arms. he hugs you tightly, rocking you back and fourth a few times. “i know!” he laughs. you pull back a bit, making eye contact with him before you both playfully snark at each other a bit and push each other from the hug.
the song comes close to its close, jay’s voice embracing the bridge like some kind of long needed serenity. “you think he’s gonna hit the high notes at the end?” you ask, head turning to riki. “of course! he wouldn’t be jay if he didn’t! he’s just be jongseong, and that’s kinda boring!” riki jokes. you roll your eyes and cross your arms, leaving riki to laugh.
and as anticipated, jay absolutely took the high note to the top. its was incredibly impressive to see how a man with such a low vocal register natural could have such a phenomenal range. he sang so high as if it was the equivalent to breathing air. it looked so effortless. he looked like if he could sing for the rest of his life, he would.
the second high note rolled around very soon after, riki making the corrupt decision to attempt to sing along… off key. you turn around and slap your hand over his mouth, cutting off his deranged accident of a high note. “uh uh, absolutely not, leave it to mariah. and more importantly, don’t quit your day job.” you say. riki take your hand in his through his laughter. “it’s not like i have one anyway!”
the songs fades out, the entire concert giving jay all the positive energy you could all possibly push out. the band members start to slow head toward the back of the stage near the drummer and the producer. “thank you harlem, thank you to the producers, the staff and our management for letting us be here today! but most importantly, thank you to everyone who came here today. you’ve made this show one of our best. we’ll never forget this. goodnight!” jay says into the mic, taking the mic from the stand and walking backwards toward the others as the curtains close.
the last round of applause and cheering is sent through the entire park before the crowd of visitors start to head home, leaving nothing but the families of the performers on the standing ground. you watch one by one as each other the artists come through the sides of the stage to meet their families, until you finally see jay.
as he comes down the stairs he spots the two of you, slinging his guitar behind his back and practically running to you like a kid going into candy store. with ease he pulls both of you into a tight embrace, with a smile on his face not even a bad day could rip away from him.
“thank you so much for coming. thank you. really, thank you.” he rambles, his words gentle but full of meaning. you each part from the hug before riki speaks. “of course jay. i told you’d i’d make it my business to be here for you. and i don’t tend to break promises.” he says. you nod, cupping jay’s face in your hands. “jay the show was so amazing! oh i’m so proud of you!” you say, before wrapping your arms over his shoulders and hugging him tightly again. he lets out a small laugh as his right arm brings itself around your waist. “it means everything to hear that.” he says.
after the show, you find yourself leaving the booth of an almost empty 24hr breakfast diner. you, riki and jay decided good eats was the ideal reward for the success of the show that night. as you exit the front door of diner in preparation to head home, riki and jay lined behind you helping you keep the door open, you hear a small noise. to the right of you along the end of the sidewalk, a small black kitten sat watching you.
“aw look, a kitty.” you smile. “what? where?” riki asks, frantically looking around before noticing the cat. “oh no, you got him going.” jay laughs. “huh?” you ask.
before you know it, riki is on his knees, rubbing his fingers together as the cat sniffs him. “come here, you can come here. i’m nice.” he says, his reverting to this gentle voice as if he was talking to a baby. the kitten purrs a bit, walking forward and bringing his paws up to riki’s leg. he smiles, petting the cat from under its chin. “oh you must be a nice kitty.” he says, ever so gently. “riki we have to go.” jay starts.
riki ignores jay’s words, his attention focused on the cat crawling into his lap. he scratches its head for a bit longer, until the cat in fully in his lap, humming and purring the loving touch. “come riki, let’s go riki. leave the cat.” jay says. when finally given the chance, riki picks up the cat, bringing it over his shoulder as he comes to his feet again. “you’re coming with me nice kitty.” he says, smiling. jay sighs and rolls his eyes, walking ahead to riki’s car. “sunghoon’s gonna kill you if he comes home to another cat.”
“we haven’t had a new cat in ages. and besides, this baby can’t stay here all by herself. it’s cold, and she has no collar or a clear sign of and owner. plus, she’s limping. she needs a vet.” riki says, as you each get in the car. “unfortunately, you are not a vet.” jay says. riki sighs. “you don’t have to remind me.” he says.
the whole ride home, the cat stays in riki’s lap. purring and nuzzling his thighs, on hand petting her back as she lays so peacefully. not a single pothole or bump could startle her enough to move. she slept so calmly with him. “she really likes you…” you say, you eyes planted on the harmless creature in his lap, noticing how easily she melted into him, how it was so much easier for an animal to feel so homey with him when not even a human could. “most animals do.” riki smiles.
the following morning you find yourself sprawled out on your bed, fighting your sleep as sunghoon stands at the end of your bed. his hands rested on his waist, his face as your mother’s would be when you got in trouble as a kid. “wake up sleepy. we need to talk.” he says.
your eyes heavily lidded, you refuse to lift your head from your pillow. “so you come to my home at 8am??? who the hell even let you in??” you ask, voice groggily. “your landlord. you forget he likes me.” sunghoon says. “whatever. am i in trouble?” you ask. “you will be if you try to lie.” sunghoon says.
“man, lie about what?” you snarl, sitting up and scratching your head as you yawn. “you tell me. is there a reason riki’s location turns off at 1am almost every other night?” he asks. you freeze and furrow your eyebrows, digging in the box of excuses in your brain. “i dunno where his funky ass goes at night. he’s not my dog to leash.” you say.
“really, so why do you keep bailing on me whenever i wanna smoke?” sunghoon asks. “man, i am a tired woman! i can’t just be out late all the time anymore! and here you are waking from from my beauty sleep!” you start, attempting to change the subject. “well it’s better to get the answers now rather than later.” sunghoon rolls his eyes. “i am at home in my bed all the time. i need to sleep. classes? remember? duh!” you shake your head at him.
“you have had classes since before christmas. and you don’t go back until halfway through feburary.” sunghoon says, his face flat. your widen your eyes in disbelief. he caught you in your lie. “on top of that, riki’s location goes MIA after 1am, and it’s been doing that since september… after the two of you took forever to come to the fire pit at the lake house. sunghoon says. “so if i’m connecting my dots correct, which i think i am, you’ve been sneaking around with the sick side-show ruckus man that is my little brother.”
you hold your silence for a moment, hoping to conjure up some kind of successful explanation for all of it without spilling your secret, eventually just giving in. “how the hell do you know that.” you say. “your best friend is a cynical man. he also told me.” sunghoon says. “i asked him specifically not to tell you!” you whined, slapping your hand to your forehead and falling back onto your pillow. “it was an accident, i asked him about his day and he was telling me about the stuff you talked about on the phone that day. he hung up in my face as soon as he realized what he did. clear slip up.” sunghoon shrugged.
“i’m absolutely gonna kick his ass.” you say. “that call was so long ago! you knew this whole time?! and didn’t say anything?!” you cry out. “yeah. i wanted to see if you’d come clean. clearly i had to take shit into my own hands, as usual.” sunghoon smirks.
“are you mad…?” you turn over onto your stomach, shoving your face into your pillow to muffle your words. “no.” sunghoon laughs. “wait really?” you start, sitting up again with swiftness. “yes. i don’t care if you fuck my brother. just don’t lie to me about it. i’d rather him be here with you than out in the streets selling drugs. or doing drugs. or getting killed.” sunghoon says says. “well in that case. i have questions.” you say.
you shove your hand under your pillow, taking your phone out from underneath. you quickly open the group chat, scrolling up a bit before you click on a photo sent a few months back. it’s the photo of riki as a kid, the two young boys you didn’t recognize next to him. you point the phone at sunghoon before speaking again. “who the hell are these guys?” you ask. “and why did riki get so mad when they sent this picture.”
sunghoon lets out a sigh as he kicks off his shoes and sits comfortably against the wall, facing outward toward to the rest of your apartment. “i knew you’d ask eventually.” he starts. “taki, and k.” he says, point at each boy as he names them. “okay… elaborate please?” you ask. “they’re two boys riki was supposed to graduate with. they had a huge falling out for a number of reasons. he doesn’t fuck with them anymore, at all.” sunghoon says.
“storytime maybe?” you say, turning the phone off and facing it downward between you both on the bed. “well, it goes all the way back to the night riki got arrested…”
1:45am on the clock. the party was on its high horse. taki and k stood in the grass of the house’s yard with their friends from the basketball team they all played on. their brains occupied by the liquor in their system, and the simple-minded conversation of their peers. it was long before k scoped out the scenery, noticing niki not far in the distance.
he watched the fear in his face grow upon the eye contact. k quickly taps taki, pointing over in niki’s direction. “he’s here.” he says. taki swallows hard, looking at k. “what are we thinking?” he asks. “let’s go get our money.” k says, moments before heading in the direction niki stood.
niki rushes his way back into the house through the crowded party, k keeping and eye on him the entire time. he shoved between everyone present outside the house as well, persistent to make his way to niki.
“you’ll stop if you know what’s good for you!” he shouts, finally making way into the house. “come on. if he thinks dropping out of school and leaving the team will get him out of this, he’s fucking stupid. i’m not stopping til i get my hands on his bitchass.” k says. taki nods in agreement.
k was always like this. once someone upset him, a quick, ‘i’m sorry’ couldn’t fit it. k was the type to come for blood when he was angry. taki on the opposing hand, didn’t care for conflict. he’d much rather just let go of the fact that riki owed him so much money, but deep down he knew k wouldn’t stop until he had niki’s head on a stick. so taki listened. and taki followed. he always listened. he always followed.
“get the fuck over here!” taki shouts, as they finally make their way to the front door of the house. “let’s go, he went this way. pussy wants to run, we can run too.” k says.
the two chased niki all the way down the street, the shouting and cursing circling and haunting his brain. “where’s my money?!” k’s shouting could be heard from a mile away. taki slows his pace a bit to catch his breath, some of the boys they came to the party with following up behind him. “come on man, he owes all of us money! we’re gonna lose him and it’s gonna be your fault!” k says, his voice aggressive as he takes a few steps backwards towards taki. he grabs to high end of his arm close to his shoulder, pushing him to start running again in niki’s direction.
as they finally approached the nearness of niki again, taki felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter. “you wanna fucking run?! you did this shit to yourself-“ k starts, his words cut off by a loud unsettling sound.
taki’s eyes meet niki’s, his gaze falling slowly down to his hands, the black item he held was a blur from the slight distance between them. he turns his head to k upon hearing the sound, seeing him hunched over on the ground on his knees, his hand on his shoulder. the blood ran down his torso as it soaked his shirt. k looks at his hand with a distorted face, moaning and weeping in pain as he brought his hand back to the open wound. “fucking asshole..” he groans.
taki’s eyes widened as he comes to a realization. the blurry black item in niki’s hand was a gun. and he just shot at k.
before he can speak, another shot is fired. the bullet hits taki harshly, right through his skin. it
falls above his left hip, dangerous close to his stomach.
he gasps in pain, feeling the immediate regret of ever even following k out of the party. before he can even register the events taking place, he collapses onto the group. the rest of the boys they came with ran as fast as they could none of them stopped. none of them tried to help him nor k.
as the moments pass, taki finds himself floating in and out of his consciousness. he can’t make much of his surroundings in the moment. the only thing that can be processed, are the red and blue that lit up the sky, the feeling of paramedics surrounding him, and sound of niki’s cries as the police put him in handcuffs for the first time in his life.
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𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 💭 : #daddyshome after her little break. this chapter is a day later than intended. but i still posted so i think i deserve a pat on the back. in advanced i am so sorry if this chapter is kinda a mess.. i got very drunk on vacation and wrote this once everyone went to bed 😭 this is probably the only time i’ve ever proofread, and it’s because if i had posted it as it was, nobody would’ve have known what the hell i was trying to say 😭😭 i also realized later i wrote in a part i meant for a later chapter and had to rewrite most of this anyway, which is a part of why it took so long to post. anyway, i’m back !!! hopefully things will go according to schedule from here on out. and thank you to everyone who was so kinda after the weird anon messages fiasco !!! you guys gave me much motivation to keep going. there’s not much else to say. i think this chapter speaks for itself the most part. thanks so much for reading !!! love u 💕💕
›› pairing boyf! yang jungwon x reader warnings jealousy , angst , skinship , ft. jay , wc 1.5k 愛 MLIST
you've seen jungwon jealous. too many times to count. he was vocal about it when it had to be or just ended it with a targeted look at the guy too close to you.
but he never addressed it to you or towards you. you'd ask him what's wrong, he'd tut and shake his head, "nothings wrong."
you thought it was cute. never seeing it as jealousy. you never thought jungwon was the jealous type, though everyone except you thinks otherwise. you never made him jealous intentionally, it just happened. you would shrug it off, the topic buried elsewhere. until today.
it was a minor argument. a thing he'd said, his tone you'd pointed out, him saying you were making up things, and before you knew it, things escalated. all hours prior an event you both had to attend.
the car ride is silent for the most of it. the wrinkled hem of your dress catching your attention as you extend your arms to straighten the fabric. jungwon's voice immediately reaches you. "did you seriously remove the ring?"
your attention shifts to your hand as you notice the missing promise ring, the one you wore at all times. shit. "must've forgotten."
he scoffs under his breath, fingers gripping the wheel. "really? 'cus you never forget it."
you feel the irritancy from the argument earlier arise back as you narrow your eyes. "well i don't fucking plan when to forget and not."
"really fucking believable." he takes one look at you before averting his eyes to the road again.
"you just have to start before something don't you." you sigh, already drained.
jungwon takes a minute, his breathing controlled as he exhales out, counting down the seconds.
that leads you to where you are now, at the event. his annual family dinner. reserved at a fancy downtown restaurant. always grand, loud and bustling. unfamiliar faces, kids giggling and tables full of side dishes.
you greet the familiar faces warmly, offering hugs and compliments. introduce yourself to the distant relatives, asking questions when needed. offering your neat packed gift to his mom when the right time arrives, something you'd been looking for once you heard his mum mention it in a passing conversation. she thanks you well along with a few follow up praises.
you do everything right. laugh when needed, pipe in the conversation during the right times and offer polite nods to anyone and everyone speaking.
everything was right. except the man beside you. jungwon didn't spare you a glance. merely smiled when his mum showed you off to everyone. didn't even lead you through the way with his usual hand on your back.
the final straw was when he sat down on the dinner table. you thought you were imagining things when jungwon pulled the seat across the table. sitting facing you. the two empty cold seats besides you seemed like a joke, a set up. he cannot be for real right now.
soon enough, the table was filled and everyone had taken their places. thankfully, the ones besides you too.
you looked at jungwon for a beat, who was too invested listening to his second cousins ex boyfriends chronicles and poked your fork into your asparagus.
alright. you see how things are.
everyone had moved on from their appetizers to the main course now. the table had fallen into a familiar warm rhythm as everyone shared stories and bites together.
you didn't even realize how invested you were with the new face besides you to notice your boyfriend.
jay. park jeongseong. jungwons cousin, few months older and a business major. he was kind, nice and funny without trying. his witty remarks and endless jungwon imitations had you nearly clutching your stomach from how hard you laughed.
unfortunately, yang jungwon was terrible at masking his jealous. he knew how to behave and be proper except when it came to jealousy. his perfectly controlled facade slipped before he knew it. his features hardening as his eyes darted from you to his cousin beside.
first, you smiled at jay. mouth curved upwards, eyes sparkling.
jungwon caught your eyes and gave you a fleeting look before going back to conversing with one of his uncles.
second, you laughed at him.
he hated it because it was genuine. the rumble of your laughter, slight shake of your shoulder and the way you shut your eyes. his grip around the fork seemed ridiculously tight.
why are you laughing at him like that?
the frown between his brows gradually deepens as hit attention zeroes at you and only you.
third, you hit jays arm.
the tips of your fingers brush against jays bicep as you roll your eyes.
there's a alarm going off in jungwons head as he's burning a hole into you with his gaze. he's about to lunge off this table any second if you don't take your hand off him.
it's been 3 seconds. it's still there.
without breaking the same unwavering gaze he's placed on you, his foot moves.
you're genuinely entranced by the way jay imitates a 15 year old jungwon. his animated gestures and sudden deadpans making you laugh your heart out.
you feel something against your leg. you already know it's jungwon. you freeze. and finally look up to the man sitting against you.
he's staring at you when you look up. eyes hooded, breaths slow, calculated and jaw clenched. his food and the relatives long forgotten.
you hold his stare for a while. what's wrong with him.
when he keeps frowning at you like you're somewhere you're not supposed to be, you look away.
jays new story piqueing your interest as he goes into yet another of jungwons family classic tales.
the foot against your heel goes higher, harsher, slow. the cool edge of his foot colliding with your bare leg through the slit of your dress.
you drop your hands under the table, shoving his foot off with a lack of force as you don't bother sparing him a glance.
if anyone on the table looked at him for long enough, they'd see the cloud of steam over jungwons head and his angry reddened ears.
jungwons feet move again. not near you, but behind your seat ad he hooks his feet onto the hind legs of your chair before pulling you towards the table sharply.
you gasp as the seat jerks forward and the bottom of your chest is pressed to the cold marble. you look at him this time. eyes narrowed, irritated.
he leans forward, his eyes never leaving yours. jays words fade into the back round. you furrow your brows, trying to figure out what possibly could have aggravated your grumpy boyfriend again tonight. you greeted the guests, hugged his mum, asked dad things about his mundane job. what does this boy want.
there was a look in his eyes. a mischievous yet angry glint in his orbs as he leaned forward, too forward. head traveled halfway across the width of the table. he stretched his arm, fingers curling around the wine glass. one second you think he's grabbing it, the next his fingers move. move away and let go.
the glass tips towards you as it's red contents spill over your gown. the cool liquid now stained your dress as the dampness spreads across the thin fabric. a soft gasp leaves your lips as you exhale, stunned.
a few towards your end of the table look over, ask if you're okay, offer towels. you try your best to nod and swat their concerns away. the frantic movements of jay are blurred in your vision as you fixate your gaze on him. he sits there, smug, the angry glint still visible in his orbs.
"excuse me." you murmur as you move away, rushing towards the bathroom. your feet move fast as you try to rub at the growing stain on your gown.
your fingers curl against the restroom knob, ready open. but before you know it, there's boots clicking behind you. a hand against your back, pushing you into the room hastily.
you stumble slightly before turning around only to see jungwon locking the door before he faces you.
you take three strides before standing in front of him. "what the fuck was that?"
his gaze is on you. hard, unreadable, unmoving.
a scoff escalates your lips. "I don't understand what's wrong with you. did I do something out of the place? say something wrong? why are you fucking acting like I'm not your fucking girlfriend and you hate every single second of me being her–"
"why were you smiling at him like that?"
took you a few seconds to process his words. "what?"
jungwon gripped your hips, tight, and spun you to pin you against the locked door. his rough fingers digging into your flesh as you furrowed your brows at him.
he pulled you towards him until your chests were pressed flush against each other. body's tangled in sync with the beating hearts divided by skin and bones. he was so close to you, you could feel his breath blowing against the bridge of your nose. his pupils were blown, angry and restless.
"y/n," his voice harsh. his left knee rises up, in the space between your legs as he pins you to place. "what the fuck could've been so funny hm?"
you turn his words over and over in your head as it registers. he's jealous. you're boyfriend's jealous.
you try to widen the almost non existent gap between your bodies which jungwon instantly refuses. a stern head shake and grumble of denial leaves his pressed lips as he further pushes you into the door along with him.
"your suit." you point to his white fabric catching a hint of the bright red drink from you dress.
he dosen't bother looking, preferring your face instead. his mouth is still clenched and eyebrows nearly becoming one.
the smile you try to fight is long forgotten as your expression cracks. eyebrows raise up and your lips curl the slightest bit. "won, are you jealous?"
his hands travel alongside your sides as his hardened gaze melts. "I am. so stop talking to him. don't look at him."
"really baby?" you frown as your fingers find his collar, tugging it towards you. "why'd you avoid me then?" you pull at his ironed shirt. "in a place full of people I don't know. I think you deserved it a little."
jungwon's gaze darts around your face as he rests his forehead against yours. his fingers digging into your flesh as he breathes against you. "'cus you and your damn attitude. whatever, fuck that, sorry. i'm sorry baby. I'll make it upto you, whatever you want."
you've never seen jungwon so worked up. good for him, you like it. a smile makes it's way upto your face.
Pairings: Autistic Jake x fem!reader
Wordcount: 22k+
Summary: Two years into your meticulously structured marriage, an unexpected pregnancy introduces the ultimate unpredictable variable into the quiet sanctuary you share with Jake. As you both navigate the overwhelming sensory challenges of impending parenthood, Jake must step outside his comfort zone to prove he can be the unshakable wall your growing family needs.
Warnings: Autism Spectrum Representation (Level 1/high support needs), Sensory Overload & Meltdowns, Pregnancy & Morning Sickness (Emesis), Childbirth/Medical Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Mild Angst. Very Mild Smut, unprotected sex (due to sensory aversions), sensory-focused intimacy, overstimulation, pregnancy themes.
A/N: after so many requests it’s finally here!!! Thanks to all the readers that gave me ideas to incorporate in here , love yaaa. And truly thank you for all the love for finding where we fit!!🥹Anyways Like always Please Like, Reblog and Comment! They are very appreciated.
[Masterlist]
The morning sun filtered softly through the edges of the drawn blackout curtains, casting a hazy, warm glow across the bedroom. You lay perfectly still beneath the familiar, heavy comfort of the fifteen-pound grey weighted blanket, anchored to the mattress by your husband.
Jake slept exactly as he had since the very first time you spent the night: like a clinging octopus. His broad chest was pressed flush against your back, his heavy arm slung securely over your waist, and his long legs were tangled inextricably with yours. His breathing was a slow, steady rhythm against your spine.
You carefully brought your left hand up to the edge of the blanket, watching the morning light catch the simple band of polished titanium and lapis lazuli on your ring finger. It had been two years since the quiet, intimately controlled wedding in your backyard. Two years of being Jake Sim's permanent variable.
And exactly one hour since you had locked yourself in the master bathroom, stared at a plastic stick, and watched two pink lines bloom into existence.
"Your heart is beating really fast," a deep, sleep-rough voice rumbled against the nape of your neck.
You jumped slightly, your breath catching. You turned your head to see Jake's face pressed into your pillow, a mess of dark, fluffy curls sticking up in every direction. He blinked his large, dark brown eyes slowly. The sleep-heavy softness of his face completely stripped away the hyper-vigilant tension he carried outside these walls.
"Did you have a bad dream?" he murmured, his voice laced with genuine concern. He pulled you a fraction closer, his large hand flattening against your stomach to offer the deep pressure he knew grounded you both. "The room is quiet, Y/N. Everything's safe."
"No bad dreams, Jakey," you promised, shifting your weight to turn and face him, managing a shaky but genuine smile. "I'm just... thinking about how happy I am."
Jake smiled, a soft, sleepy curve of his lips that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He reached up, his long fingers gently tracing the line of your jaw. "I like that," he whispered, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "I'm happy too. The temperature is right at 68, the blanket feels good, and you're here. It's a perfect morning."
It was a perfect morning, but beneath your ribs, your heart was doing a frantic, terrified flutter.
You were exactly one month pregnant.
You knew without a doubt when it had happened. A month ago, after a quiet, beautiful dinner at home to celebrate your second anniversary, the math of your cycle tracking had apparently failed.
Physical intimacy with Jake had always required an immense level of trust and sensory management. Early in your marriage, you had tried utilizing standard protections. But the introduction of a condom had triggered an immediate, devastating sensory failure for him. You still remembered how his body had gone rigid beneath you. The latex had felt like a suffocating barrier, a synthetic, rubbery texture that created a "secondary friction" completely overwhelming his delicate receptors. He had lost the physical sensation almost immediately, the "noise" of the unnatural texture drowning out the intimacy. He had pulled away midway through, his hands trembling as he stripped it off, his breathing hitched in a sudden wave of panic and overstimulation.
He had been so devastated, so terrified that his neurology was "broken" and ruining the experience for you. You had immediately stopped, wrapped him in his weighted blanket, and held him until the static faded. You promised him right then and there that you would never force a variable that hurt him.
So, you became the gatekeeper. You rigorously researched cycle tracking, charting your basal body temperature and monitoring your fertility windows. It was a highly logical, data-driven system that Jake appreciated immensely. On the safe days, you allowed him the barrier-free, skin-to-skin contact that his sensory processor so desperately craved—the only time his mind was truly, beautifully silent.
But biology, it seemed, didn't care about your data.
"Are you ready to get up?" Jake asked, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. He bumped his nose affectionately against yours. "It's Tuesday. Grilled cheese day."
"I'm ready," you whispered, leaning in to press a firm, grounding kiss to his lips.
Thirty minutes later, you were fully dressed in your work clothes—comfortable slacks and, as always, your quiet, rubber-soled Converse sneakers.
The life you had built together over the last two years was a masterpiece of careful adjustments. The transition into marriage had been blissful, but it hadn't been without its growing pains.
The biggest hurdle had come exactly three months after the wedding. That was when Sarah, holding back tears of both pride and sorrow, had officially packed up the rest of her belongings and moved to the bright, sunny condo she had purchased 4.2 miles away. She knew that for you and Jake to truly build a life as husband and wife, you needed the beige house to yourselves.
Jake had understood the logic. He had agreed to the timeline. But the reality of the shift had absolutely devastated him.
For the first two weeks after Sarah left, Jake had experienced a profound system crash. The ambient noise of the house was wrong without her footsteps. The smell of her specific brand of herbal tea was missing from the kitchen. The sudden absence of the woman who had spent twenty-four years shielding him from the world was a massive, gaping void.
He hadn't touched his LEGOs for fourteen days. He had retreated to the bedroom, living under the weighted blanket, the blackout curtains drawn, trapped in a spiral of dysregulation and grief. He didn't speak much. He just rocked, overwhelmed by the missing variable.
You hadn't pushed him. You hadn't tried to force him to be "okay." You had simply climbed under the blanket with him. You provided the deep pressure, the quiet reassurance, and the absolute certainty that while the variables had changed, the sanctuary remained intact. You took over the routines, proving to him day by day that you could keep the world at bay just as well as his mother had. And slowly, the static had cleared. Sarah started coming over for Tuesday dinners, and a new, stable routine had blossomed.
Now, the house operated like a well-oiled machine, supporting both of your new lives.
You had officially left the agency shortly before the wedding. Now, you worked full-time as the program coordinator at a local community center, specializing in designing sensory-friendly recreational programs for neurodivergent teens. It was fulfilling work that utilized your social work degree without the draining bureaucracy of your old job.
And Jake wasn't just sitting idle, either. With your encouragement, he had turned his hyper-fixation into a thriving, quiet career.
He now ran a highly successful online business restoring and selling vintage, discontinued LEGO sets. People from all over the country would mail him boxes of mixed, dirty, incomplete bricks. Jake would meticulously clean them, sort them, source the missing pieces down to the exact molding variants, and reassemble them to ensure structural integrity before selling them to collectors at a premium. He also took on custom architectural commissions, designing incredibly complex scale models for independent firms.
He worked from the safety of his living room, surrounded by his organized bins. He made his own hours, controlled his own environment, and contributed to the household income in a way that made him deeply, visibly proud.
Walking into the kitchen, you found him standing at the round wooden table, bathed in the carefully filtered morning light. He was wearing a dark navy blue hoodie with the sleeves pulled down over his knuckles. In front of him on a blue plate was his breakfast: two uniform yellow scrambled eggs, separated perfectly from three strips of bacon cut into precise one-inch squares.
You stood at the kitchen island, packing your canvas tote bag for the day. You slipped your wallet, your planner, and the positive pregnancy test—wrapped tightly in a tissue and shoved deep into an interior zippered pocket—inside.
Then, you reached into the small, decorative ceramic bowl you kept on the counter. Inside were two distinct pieces of plastic.
One was a solid, red 2x4 LEGO brick.
The other was a translucent blue, polycarbonite "power blast" web piece.
You picked up the blue web piece, rubbing your thumb over the sharp, molded plastic edges. You slipped it into the front pocket of your cardigan, a daily ritual. The red brick, however, you left in the ceramic bowl. It belonged here, in the center of the home.
Jake chewed his bacon rhythmically, swallowed, and took a sip of his water from a clear glass.
"You're taking the web piece today," Jake observed, his keen eyes tracking your movement as he wiped his mouth carefully with a napkin.
"I am," you smiled, walking over to wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I have a big meeting with the city funding board today. I might need a little extra structural support."
Jake leaned his head back against your chest, seeking the deep pressure, his hands coming up to rest over your arms. "Polycarbonite is highly resilient," he reminded you softly. "It won't break. You're going to do great at the meeting. You have all the data prepared."
"Thanks, baby," you replied, though your voice wavered just a fraction at the affectionate nickname.
He didn't catch the slight tremor, too focused on the comfort of your touch. He speared a forkful of eggs. "I have a big project today, too," he told you, chewing carefully. "A collector in Seattle sent me a massive bin of unsorted bricks. They think there's an original 2007 Ultimate Collector's Millennium Falcon in there. I get to sort it all. It's going to be incredibly satisfying."
"That sounds like a perfect Tuesday for you, Jakey," you murmured, smoothing down the soft fabric of his hoodie. "I'll be home at exactly 4:15 PM."
"4:15 PM," he confirmed, his shoulders relaxing completely at the predictable timeline. "I'll make sure the living room is quiet for you when you get back."
You grabbed your tote bag and headed for the front door, the weight of the hidden plastic test feeling heavier than an anvil against your side.
Jake's entire world, his career, his mental health, his beautiful, brilliant mind—it was all built on managed expectations and calculated variables. He thrived on his routines because it was the only way he could survive the overwhelming sensory input of existence.
And in less than nine months, the ultimate unpredictable, loud, messy, chaotic variable was going to be introduced into his carefully controlled sanctuary. You loved him more than anything in the world, but as you started your car, a tear slipped down your cheek. You had absolutely no idea how you were going to tell him without shattering his peace.
The next five days were an agonizing exercise in compartmentalization.
You had always prided yourself on being Jake’s safe harbor, the one variable in his life that never fluctuated, never lied, and never introduced unnecessary chaos. But now, you were carrying a secret that felt like a ticking time bomb, and hiding it from a man who noticed every micro-shift in your breathing was proving to be nearly impossible. Yet, those same five days also highlighted just how incredibly, breathtakingly intimate your marriage had become.
The intimacy wasn't just in the dark of the bedroom, though the skin-to-skin contact remained his ultimate grounding mechanism. The true intimacy was in the daylight. It was in the way Jake had stopped asking for permission to enter your space. If you were sitting on the couch reading a case file for work, he wouldn’t sit on the opposite end anymore; he would slide onto the cushions, drape his long legs over your lap, and pull your free hand down to rest flat against his chest. He needed you the way he needed oxygen.
On Thursday evening, you were standing at the stove, trying to focus on boiling pasta. The smell of the boiling starch, which had never bothered you before, was suddenly turning your stomach into a churning, uneasy knot. Jake walked into the kitchen, his silent footsteps barely registering until you felt his broad chest press firmly against your back. His heavy arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you completely flush against him. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his nose brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.
"Your baseline temperature is elevated," he murmured, his breath warm against your pulse point. His large hands flattened against your stomach, spreading his fingers wide. "You are radiating more heat than your standard output. And your skin is slightly clammy."
You froze, the wooden spoon stalling in the pot of water. He was a human thermometer. "I'm just a little warm from the stove, Spidey," you lied smoothly, leaning back into his solid weight to distract him. "The boiling water is creating a lot of steam."
Jake hummed, a deep vibration of thought, but his hands didn't leave your stomach. He pressed slightly harder, offering that deep, soothing pressure. "If the thermal environment is uncomfortable, I can adjust the thermostat. Or I can finish the pasta sequence. You should sit down."
"I'm okay, Jake, really," you promised, turning your head to kiss his cheek.
He didn't argue, but he didn't leave your side, either. He stayed pressed against you for the entire cooking process, his thumb gently, rhythmically stroking the fabric of your shirt right over the exact spot where a new life was currently dividing into cells. The profound, heartbreaking sweetness of his touch made you want to burst into tears right there into the pasta water.
By Sunday, the secret became entirely physical.
It started the moment you opened your eyes. The blackout curtains were drawn, the room was a cool 68 degrees, and Jake’s heavy leg was thrown over yours beneath the weighted blanket. It was the perfect Sunday morning.
But the moment you shifted, a sudden, violent wave of nausea hit you so hard the room spun.
You slapped a hand over your mouth, practically shoving Jake’s arm off your waist as you bolted upright. You scrambled out of the bed, your bare feet hitting the hardwood, and sprinted for the master bathroom.
You barely made it to the toilet before your stomach violently emptied itself.
You dropped to your knees on the cold tile, gripping the porcelain as you heaved, coughing and gasping for air. The sound was loud, sudden, and harsh—exactly the kind of chaotic, unpredictable noise that usually sent Jake’s sensory system into an immediate tailspin.
But Jake didn't cover his ears. He didn't hide under the blanket.
Less than five seconds later, the bathroom door was pushed open. Jake dropped to his knees right behind you on the bathmat. He didn't hesitate. He wrapped one arm securely across your collarbone to hold you upright, and placed his other large, warm palm flat against the center of your spine, pressing down with firm, unyielding pressure.
"Deep pressure," he chanted softly, his voice remarkably steady despite the chaotic situation. "I am the wall. Breathe into the wall, Y/N."
You heaved again, a miserable, wet sob tearing from your throat, and leaned your entire weight backward into his chest. He held you flawlessly. He didn't flinch at the smell or the sound. Two years ago, a sick person would have been a massive biological hazard to his rigid need for cleanliness. Today, his only concern was the fact that his permanent variable was in distress. When the nausea finally subsided to a dull, aching throb, you slumped against him, resting your sweaty forehead on your arm.Jake reached up with his free hand, grabbing a towel from the rack. He gently wiped your mouth, his brow furrowed in intense, analytical concern.
"Your system is violently expelling data," he observed, his dark eyes scanning your pale, sweat-dampened face. "Your heart rate is erratic. Are you experiencing acute gastrointestinal distress?"
"I think so," you gasped, letting him pull you backward so you were sitting against his chest on the floor. You closed your eyes, the guilt of what you were about to do sitting heavier in your stomach than the sickness. "I'm so sorry, Jake. I know the sound is loud."
"The sound is irrelevant," he stated firmly, pulling you tighter against him. "You are malfunctioning. We need to identify the variable. Did you ingest a pathogen?"
"It must have been lunch on Friday," you lied, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. "I went to that new deli with my coworkers. I had a turkey sandwich. It... the mayonnaise must have been bad."
Jake's eyes narrowed slightly as his internal processor immediately crunched the numbers. "Foodborne illness," he muttered, his fingers drumming a quick, anxious rhythm against your arm. "The incubation period for Salmonella can range from six hours to six days. Staphylococcal food poisoning usually occurs within thirty minutes to eight hours. Given the timeline, a Campylobacter or Salmonella infection is statistically probable."
He was applying logic to your lie, accepting it instantly because it fit a mathematical parameter. And more importantly, he accepted it because you were the one saying it. You never lied to him.
"I just need to lie down," you whispered, feeling a fresh wave of tears prick your eyes.
"Yes. Rest is the optimal recovery protocol," Jake agreed immediately. He stood up, incredibly careful not to jostle you, and then reached down to help you to your feet.
He guided you back to the bed, pulling the sheets and the weighted blanket back so you could slide in. He tucked the heavy grey fabric tightly around your shoulders, cocooning you in safety.
"I will procure hydration," he announced, his face set in a mask of determined focus. "Electrolyte imbalance is a secondary threat to vomiting. I will also eliminate environmental stressors. The house will remain at a volume level of zero."
"You don't have to do all that, Jake," you mumbled into the pillow, utterly exhausted by the physical toll of the morning sickness and the emotional toll of the deception.
"I am the husband," he said simply, as if that explained the fundamental physics of the universe. "It is my protocol to maintain your structural integrity."
He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your warm forehead, before turning and leaving the room on silent feet.
For the next two hours, you drifted in and out of a restless sleep. True to his word, the house was entirely silent. You didn't hear the clink of dishes or the usual low hum of his LEGO sorting.
In the laundry room down the hall, Jake was executing a new system.
If there was a biological pathogen in the house, his logic dictated that all potential vectors of contamination needed to be sanitized. He had gathered the clothes you had worn over the last days, including the work slacks and the light jacket you had discarded over the back of the armchair in the bedroom.
Jake stood in front of the washing machine. He liked the washing machine. The cyclical rotation of the drum was mathematically soothing, and the detergent smelled clean and predictable.He meticulously checked the pockets of your clothing. It was a strict rule: foreign objects in the washing machine could disrupt the balance of the drum or create catastrophic clanking noises during the spin cycle.He emptied a crumpled receipt and a stray pen from your slacks. Then, he picked up your light jacket.
He reached his long fingers into the deep, zippered interior pocket. He felt something hard, wrapped in a layer of soft tissue paper. Jake pulled it out. He unwrapped the tissue paper carefully, placing it in the wastebasket, and held the plastic object up to the light. It was a white plastic stick, roughly five inches long, with a small digital screen and a square window. Inside the window, there were two distinct, highly saturated pink lines.Jake frowned, tilting his head. His brain immediately began searching its vast databases for a match. It looked like a medical diagnostic tool. He knew what a thermometer looked like; this was not a thermometer. Two pink lines.
He stared at it for a long, quiet minute. He turned it over, looking for a manufacturer label or a model number, but there was only a small logo he didn't immediately recognize.
His chest felt tight. A new, unidentified variable in his house was always a cause for a slight spike in anxiety. But this variable belonged to you. You had hidden it in your interior zipper pocket.Logic dictated that if you were utilizing a medical diagnostic tool, it was related to the systemic failure you had experienced in the bathroom. The food poisoning.Jake didn't panic. He just needed the data. He needed to understand the mechanics of the tool so he could properly assist in your recovery.
He left the laundry room, the plastic stick grasped loosely in his hand, and walked silently down the hallway. You were half-asleep when the bedroom door clicked open. The hinges were perfectly oiled—Jake maintained them monthly to prevent squeaking—so the door made no sound. You opened your eyes heavily, blinking against the dim light. Jake was standing at the foot of the bed. His posture wasn't rigid, but he looked deeply confused, his head tilted to the side like a dog trying to understand a new command.
"Hey, Spidey," you rasped, shifting under the weighted blanket. "Did you finish the laundry?"
"I paused the sequence," Jake said softly, keeping his voice pitched low to accommodate your headache. He took a few steps forward, coming to stand beside the mattress. "Is the machine unbalanced?" you asked, rubbing your eyes.
"No. The machine is optimal." Jake looked down at his hand, then looked at you. His large, dark brown eyes were filled with pure, unadulterated innocence and a deep desire to comprehend.
He held his hand out, opening his long fingers to reveal the plastic stick resting in his palm. "Y/N," he began, his voice perfectly calm and inquisitive. "I was executing the pocket-clearing protocol to prevent lint contamination and auditory disruption in the washing machine. I found this in your jacket."
The blood in your veins instantly turned to ice water.
Your entire body went rigid beneath the blanket. The air vanished from your lungs. You stared at the plastic stick in his hand, the two glaring pink lines practically screaming at you in the quiet room.
No. No, no, no. "I do not recognize this diagnostic tool," Jake continued, entirely oblivious to the catastrophic internal explosion happening in your brain. He brought the stick a few inches closer to his face, analyzing the window again. "It has two highly saturated pink lines. I hypothesize that it is a chemical reagent test."
He lowered the stick and looked at you, his brow furrowing in genuine concern.
"Is this for the Salmonella?" he asked innocently. "Does it measure the pathogen load in your system? I did not know they manufactured rapid tests for foodborne illnesses."
You were caught so completely, so devastatingly off guard that your voice simply ceased to exist.You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your heart was hammering a frantic, terrifying rhythm against your ribs—a rhythm so loud you were certain Jake’s sensitive ears could pick it up. He saw your panic. His own eyes widened slightly, his internal processor snagging on your sudden, profound distress.
"Y/N?" he murmured, taking a step closer, the plastic stick still held in his hand. "Your breathing just became incredibly shallow. Your pupils are dilated. Did I do something wrong? Was this a private medical variable?"
"Jake..." you choked out, the word barely a whisper. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, your hands shaking violently. He instantly dropped the test onto the nightstand. The sharp clack of the plastic hitting the wood echoed in the quiet room, but he didn't care. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, reaching out to grab both of your trembling hands in his. "Deep pressure," he said immediately, his voice rising in pitch as your panic triggered his own. He squeezed your hands tightly, his brown eyes searching yours frantically. "I'm sorry. I breached your privacy. I just wanted to process the data so I could help you fix the malfunction. Please don't look like that. The static is getting loud, Y/N."
"You didn't do anything wrong," you gasped, pulling one of your hands free to cup his face. His skin was warm, his jaw tense with sudden anxiety. "You didn't breach my privacy, Jakey. I'm not mad at you. I'm not."
"Then why are your hands shaking?" he pleaded, leaning his face heavily into your palm. "Why is your heart beating like you are in danger? The house is safe."
You looked from his beautiful, terrified face to the plastic stick sitting innocently on the nightstand. There was no more compartmentalizing. There was no more waiting for the 'perfect time' to introduce the variable. The data was on the table.
"Jake," you whispered, your voice cracking as the first tear spilled over your eyelashes. "I lied to you."
Jake froze entirely.
The word lied was a massive, system-crashing error code in his brain. People outside the house lied. People in stores, people at the agency, people who didn't understand him—they lied. But you were the baseline. You were the permanent variable. You did not lie."You... gave me false data?" he asked, his voice dropping to a hollow, devastating whisper. He didn't pull away from your hand, but his entire body went as rigid as a board. "Yes," you sobbed, using your thumb to stroke his cheekbone desperately, trying to keep him grounded. "I didn't have a turkey sandwich on Friday. I don't have Salmonella, Jake." He blinked rapidly, his processor struggling to re-route the information. "Then why did your system violently expel its contents? Why is your temperature elevated? If there is no pathogen..."
He stopped. He slowly turned his head to look at the plastic stick on the nightstand.
He was brilliant. He didn't have the social scripts, but he understood biology, chemistry, and systemic reactions better than anyone. He stared at the two pink lines.
Diagnostic tool. Elevated temperature. Morning nausea.You watched the exact second the realization hit him. Jake's breath hitched—a sharp, jagged sound that seemed to tear its way out of his throat. His dark eyes went impossibly wide, his pupils expanding until they almost swallowed the brown irises. He slowly, mechanically turned his head back to look at you.
"The barrier," he whispered, his voice trembling so violently it barely sounded like him. "On our anniversary. The sensory failure. We did not... we did not use the barrier."
"We didn't," you confirmed, the tears flowing freely down your face now.
He stared at your stomach. The same stomach he had been pressing his hands against for the last five days to provide deep pressure. "That is not a test for a pathogen," Jake said, his voice entirely devoid of its usual factual cadence. It was raw, breathless, and stripped bare. "That is an hCG test. It measures the human chorionic gonadotropin hormone."
"Yes," you cried softly. Jake slowly pulled his hands out of your grasp. He didn't do it aggressively, but the loss of his deep pressure left you feeling terrifyingly unmoored. He sat back on his heels, his hands hovering uselessly in the air for a moment before he wrapped them tightly around his own torso, applying his own pressure.
He began to rock. It wasn't a violent, meltdown rock. It was a slow, rhythmic sway, forward and backward on his knees. Forward, back. Forward, back. He squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing coming in short, erratic bursts.
"Jake," you pleaded, leaning over the edge of the bed to try and reach for him.
"Too much data," he whimpered, slapping his hands over his ears. He curled his head down toward his chest, hiding his face. "It's too much data. The variable is too big. The volume is at maximum."
Your heart shattered into a million pieces. This was exactly what you had been terrified of. A baby wasn't just a life change for Jake; it was a sensory explosion. It was crying that couldn't be reasoned with, unpredictability that couldn't be scheduled, and a total dismantling of the quiet, controlled environment he needed to survive.
"I'm sorry," you sobbed, sliding off the mattress and dropping to your knees right in front of him. You didn't try to pull his hands away from his ears. You knew better. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his entire curled-up form, burying your face in the soft fabric of his hoodie. You squeezed him with everything you had, becoming the heavy blanket he desperately needed. "I'm so sorry, Jakey. I didn't know how to tell you. I was so scared of breaking your peace."
He rocked against you, the physical momentum jarring your bones, but you held on tighter. "It's going to be okay," you whispered fiercely against his shoulder, hoping he could feel the vibration of your voice even if he couldn't hear the words over his covered ears. "We write our own code, remember? We'll figure it out. I won't let it be too loud. I promise."
For ten agonizing minutes, you sat on the floor of the bedroom, holding your husband as his world tilted violently off its axis.Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the rocking began to decelerate. The frantic, jagged gasps for air smoothed out into deep, shuddering breaths.Jake's hands slowly lowered from his ears.
He uncurled his body, remaining on his knees but straightening his spine. You loosened your grip, leaning back just enough to look at his face. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes wet with tears, and his jaw was clenched tightly as he fought to process the massive system update. He didn't look at you at first. He looked down at your stomach again. He slowly, hesitantly reached out with his right hand. His fingers were trembling. He didn't apply deep pressure this time. For the first time in your entire relationship, his touch was feather-light. His palm barely brushed the fabric of your pajama shirt, resting softly over your womb. "There is a secondary heartbeat in the house," Jake whispered, the awe in his voice cutting through the panic like a laser. "Yes," you breathed, placing your hand gently over his.
He finally looked up at your face. The sheer terror of the unpredictable variables was still there, swimming in the depths of his dark eyes, but it was being rapidly overwritten by something else. A profound, consuming gravity.
"I did not calculate this," he said, his voice thick with tears. "I do not have the manual for how to be a father. The crying... the biological fluids... the disrupted sleep cycles. It is a mathematical nightmare."
"I know," you smiled wetly.
Jake's thumb twitched against your stomach. A single tear slipped down his cheek.
"But," he continued, a watery, blindingly beautiful smile breaking through the fear, "it is our variable. It is a combination of my data and your data. It is fifty percent you."
"And fifty percent you," you whispered back.
He let out a long, shuddering exhale, collapsing forward into your arms. He buried his face in your neck, wrapping you in a crushing, desperate hug that finally restored the deep pressure you both needed.
"We will require a massive restructuring of the schedule," he mumbled into your skin, his logical brain already starting to construct a new system to handle the chaos. "We will need noise-canceling headphones for the infant to protect its own auditory receptors. And we will need to purchase the LEGO Duplo sets. They are structurally appropriate for early motor skill development."
You laughed, a loud, joyous sound that echoed in the quiet room, tangling your fingers in his dark hair.
"We have nine months to build the schedule, Spidey," you promised, holding him as tightly as you could.
"Nine months," he echoed, pulling back just enough to press a firm, deeply intentional kiss to your lips. "That is approximately 274 days. We will optimize the environment. The house will be safe." He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closing in complete surrender. "I love you, Y/N. And I love our anomaly."
The transition into the second trimester hit you like a freight train.
Five months had passed since the morning the two pink lines had rewritten the algorithm of your lives. It was now late October, and the world outside the beige house was a flurry of biting winds and dead, brown leaves. Inside, however, the house was a carefully maintained 69 degrees.You sat heavily on the edge of the living room sofa, staring down at your feet. They didn't even look like your feet anymore. They were swollen, puffy, and aching with a dull, relentless throb that radiated all the way up to your calves. Your belly was undeniably, magnificently large, resting heavily in your lap beneath the oversized fabric of one of Jake’s vintage Spider-Man hoodies.You had taken an early leave from your job at the community center around month two. The sensory-friendly programs you ran for the teens were fulfilling, but they were also unpredictable. The sudden loud noises, the emotional heavy lifting, and the physical demands had caused a few terrifying stress-spikes early in the pregnancy. Jake’s processor had essentially red-lined. He had compiled a fifty-page binder of statistical data on maternal stress and fetal development, presented it to you over Tuesday grilled cheese, and firmly requested that you prioritize your structural integrity. You hadn't argued; the exhaustion had already been sinking its claws into you.
So, you were home. You were the permanent, stationary variable.
And right now, you were crying over a vegetable.
"I don't understand," Jake murmured, his voice tight. He was standing by the kitchen island, surrounded by the brown paper bags of your weekly grocery delivery.
He held up a clear plastic clamshell container. Inside were six perfectly uniform, miniature Persian cucumbers.
"You requested the small, green, cylindrical gourds," Jake said, his brow furrowed in deep, anxious confusion. He looked from the container to your face, his dark eyes wide and panicked. "I selected the organic Cucumis sativus. The reviews indicated a high level of structural crunch. They are exactly as requested."
"Jake," you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. The tears were hot, fast, and entirely irrational, fueled by a cocktail of second-trimester hormones and sheer physical exhaustion. "I wanted pickles. I wrote 'baby dills' on the shared list. Pickles."
Jake stared at the cucumbers, his brain rapidly cycling through the data.
"Pickles are cucumbers," he stated, his voice pitching up slightly. "They are cucumbers submerged in an acetic acid solution. The vendor interface did not specify the brining process in the primary search results. I... I procured the base ingredient. I can initiate a brine. It requires vinegar, sodium chloride, and dill weed. The fermentation process will take approximately three to four days—"
"I don't want them in three days!" you wailed, the sound escaping you before you could clamp a hand over your mouth. "I want them right now! And my feet hurt, and I can't even see my own toes to put my socks on, and I just wanted a stupid, salty pickle!"
You instantly regretted the volume of your voice. The loud, unpredictable sound of crying was one of Jake's most sensitive triggers. It was chaotic audio data that his brain struggled to categorize. Through the gaps in your fingers, you saw the immediate physical toll your breakdown was taking on him. Jake froze. His broad shoulders hitched up rigidly toward his ears. The clamshell of cucumbers dropped onto the granite counter with a sharp plastic clack. His hands flew up, hovering just an inch over his ears, his fingers twitching violently as he fought the overwhelming, instinctual urge to clamp them down and block out the noise. His breathing hitched, catching in a ragged, shallow gasp. The static was deafening him. You could see it in the terrified, wide-blown look in his eyes. He was on the absolute edge of a system crash. "I'm sorry," you choked out, trying desperately to swallow the sobs, your chest heaving. "I'm so sorry, Jakey. I'm being too loud. Please, go get your headphones. I'm fine. I'm just hormonal."
You hated this. You hated putting this heavy, unpredictable emotional weight on him. He worked so incredibly hard every single day to manage his environment, to be the steady, logical anchor you needed, and here you were, flooding his sanctuary with chaotic noise over a grocery mix-up. The guilt compounded the tears, making them fall even faster. Jake looked at his noise-canceling headphones, which were resting on the edge of the coffee table. They were his shield. They were the emergency exit.
He looked at the headphones, and then he looked at you—weeping, swollen, and miserable on the sofa. He didn't grab the headphones. Jake let out a low, agonizing groan, his hands dropping forcibly from his ears. He curled them into tight fists at his sides, his knuckles turning stark white as he forced himself to physically override his own sensory defense mechanisms. He crossed the living room in three long, stiff strides. He didn't sit beside you. He dropped straight to his knees on the plush rug, right in front of your swollen feet. "You are not fine," Jake said, his voice trembling under the immense strain of remaining present. "You are leaking. Your pain receptors are firing. The volume is... the volume is high, but the variable is you. I am not leaving the variable."
"Jake, your ears," you wept, reaching out to touch his tense shoulder. "It's too loud for you."
"I am the husband," he gritted out, squeezing his eyes shut for a microsecond to re-center himself. "It is my protocol to fix the malfunction." He didn't hesitate. He reached out and wrapped his large, warm hands around your right foot. He applied immediate, intense deep pressure, his thumbs digging firmly into the aching arch of your foot, his fingers wrapping around your heel.
The relief was so sudden and profound that a fresh sob tore from your throat, but this one was a sound of release.Jake flinched slightly at the sound, but his grip didn't falter. He began to systematically massage the swollen tissue, moving with robotic, mathematical precision. Press, hold, release. Press, hold, release. He used his body weight to push the pooling fluid back up your calf, his dark head bowed in absolute concentration. "The edema is severe," he murmured, his voice still tight, but the repetitive physical motion of the massage was beginning to ground him. "The fluid retention is a standard biological response to the second trimester, but the hydrostatic pressure must be incredibly uncomfortable. The deep pressure should stimulate the lymphatic system."
"It feels so good," you breathed, leaning your head back against the sofa cushions, the tears finally beginning to slow. "Jake, it feels amazing. Thank you."
He moved to your left foot, applying the exact same pounds per square inch of pressure. He worked in silence for ten minutes. The only sound in the living room was your gradually steadying breath and the ticking of the wall clock.
Slowly, you felt the rigid tension in Jake's shoulders begin to melt. His breathing synced with yours.
"I'm sorry I cried," you whispered into the quiet room, wiping your damp cheeks with the oversized sleeves of his hoodie. "I know how much you hate it when I'm sad. And I know the noise hurts you. I didn't mean to overload your system."
Jake stopped rubbing your foot. He shifted his weight, moving up so he was kneeling between your knees. He rested his hands flat on your thighs, right just below the heavy curve of your belly. He looked up at you. His eyes were red-rimmed from the strain, but the frantic, panicked static was gone. "I do not hate the noise because it is loud," Jake corrected softly, his thumb brushing a slow, rhythmic pattern against your sweatpants. "I hate the noise because it means my permanent variable is in distress, and my internal processor struggles to locate the correct solution. I procured cucumbers when you required acetic-acid soaked cucumbers. I failed the grocery parameter. That was the source of the overload. I felt... inadequate."
Your heart cracked. You reached down, cupping his beautiful, earnest face in both of your hands.
"You could never be inadequate, Jake Sim," you promised him fiercely. "Never. You are taking care of me perfectly. My hormones are just scrambling my emotional data. It's not your fault."
He leaned into your palms, letting out a long, heavy exhale.
"I will go to the convenience store at the corner," he announced, a sudden, determined spark lighting up his brown eyes. "The crowd density will be negligible at this hour. I will procure a jar of Baby Dills. The sodium content will not help your edema, but it will stabilize your emotional parameters." You let out a watery laugh, running your thumbs over his cheekbones. "You don't have to go out, Spidey. The massage was enough."
"The massage fixed the hydrostatic pressure," he replied logically, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm. "It did not fix the pickle deficit. I will return in precisely fourteen minutes."
True to his word, fourteen minutes later, you were sitting on the couch, crunching happily on a perfectly salty, cold baby dill pickle. Jake was sitting right beside you, his hip pressed flush against yours, watching you eat with a profound sense of satisfaction. "Optimal crunch," he noted, listening to the snap of the pickle.
"Optimal," you agreed, resting your head on his shoulder. "Thank you, baby."
He hummed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and resting his large hand directly over your belly. The baby was active tonight. The sudden influx of sodium and the cold temperature of the pickle had woken them up. A sharp, distinct kick hit right against Jake's palm. Jake's eyes widened. He stared down at your stomach, a look of absolute, unvarnished awe washing over his face. Even after five months of feeling the baby move, it still short-circuited his brain in the best possible way.
"The kinetic energy is increasing," he whispered, his fingers splaying wider to capture the sensation. "The anomaly is practicing its motor functions. The muscle density is growing."
"They're getting strong," you smiled, covering his hand with yours.
"They require a highly structured environment," Jake said, his tone shifting back into that hyper-focused, factual cadence that meant his brain was locked onto a project. "Which is why the nursery parameters must be finalized before tomorrow."
Ah, yes. The nursery. When you first found out you were pregnant, the idea of a baby had been an abstract, terrifying variable for Jake. But as the months progressed, his logical brain had found a way to cope with the impending chaos: systematic, meticulous preparation. The nursery had become his ultimate hyper-fixation.
"Do you want to show me the progress?" you asked softly.
Jake nodded immediately, a proud, eager energy vibrating in his shoulders. He stood up, offering you both of his hands to help haul your heavy center of gravity off the sofa. You waddled down the hallway together, your hand locked tightly in his.
The door to the spare bedroom was closed. Jake opened it with a soft click, pushing it wide to reveal his masterpiece. It didn't look like a traditional, Pinterest-perfect baby room. There were no bright, overwhelming primary colors. There were no loud, flashing musical mobiles. The room was a sanctuary of controlled sensory input. The walls were painted a muted, soft sage green—a color Jake had researched extensively, proving it to have the lowest psychological stimulation threshold. The lighting was entirely indirect, utilizing warm-amber smart bulbs that could be dimmed to exact percentage points from his phone to prevent harsh glare on a newborn's sensitive retinas.
Along the baseboards, he had installed subtle acoustic dampening panels to absorb the high-frequency sound waves of crying, ensuring the noise wouldn't echo and multiply within the confined space.
But the centerpiece of the room was the crib.
Jake walked over to it, running his long fingers over the smooth, unfinished birch wood. "I verified the structural integrity of every joint," he told you, his voice filled with quiet pride. "The manufacturer instructions suggested a torque of 15 Newton-meters for the primary bolts. I increased it to 18 to account for micro-vibrations over time. The mattress is organic, hypoallergenic cotton. There are no synthetic off-gassing chemicals to disrupt the infant's olfactory development."
"It's beautiful, Jake," you whispered, walking up beside him and resting your hand on the railing. It didn't wobble even a fraction of a millimeter. It was built like a fortress.
"It is mathematically sound," he agreed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, digital thermometer and hygrometer monitor, placing it perfectly parallel to the edge of the changing table. "And tomorrow, mom is arriving at 10:00 AM."
"She is," you nodded, bracing yourself slightly.
"We are executing the apparel procurement mission," Jake recited, his foot beginning to tap a light, anxious rhythm against the plush carpeting. "We will navigate the baby section of the department store. Mom will provide the neurotypical social buffer. You will provide the emotional baseline. I will verify the textile safety."
You smiled, reaching out to wrap your arm around his waist. "Are you feeling okay about the mission, Spidey? We don't have to go to the store. We can order the clothes online if the crowd density is going to be too much." Jake stopped tapping his foot. He looked down at the perfectly assembled crib, then looked down at your swollen belly. "Online procurement does not allow for tactile verification," he explained seriously, his brow furrowing. "Baby apparel is frequently manufactured with scratchy tags, raised seams, and rigid synthetic blends. I cannot allow the anomaly to experience the 'cobweb' sensation. Their skin will be highly sensitive. I must touch the fabrics. I must ensure the seams are flat."
Your heart melted into a puddle on the floor. He was terrified of the loud, unpredictable department store. He was already anxious about the changing routine. But his protective instinct over this unborn baby was so incredibly fierce that he was willing to willingly walk into a sensory minefield just to make sure his child never had to feel a scratchy tag. "You're going to be the most amazing dad in the world," you told him, tears pricking your eyes again—happy ones, this time.
Jake blinked, processing the title. Dad. It still sounded foreign, a variable he hadn't fully assimilated yet. But he wrapped his arms tightly around your shoulders, burying his nose in your hair, inhaling the familiar, grounding scent of vanilla and oats.
"I do not have the complete manual," he murmured into your skin, his grip firm and steady. "But I have you. And the crib is secure. We will manage the variables together."
By the time the sixth month of your pregnancy rolled around, the world outside had surrendered entirely to the bitter, biting chill of late November. Frost clung to the windowpanes of the beige house.The end of the second trimester had brought with it a host of new variables. The morning sickness had thankfully evaporated, replaced by an insatiable hunger that had Jake calculating your caloric intake with the dedication of a sports nutritionist. Your belly was no longer just a soft curve; it was a pronounced, hard sphere, the undeniable physical proof of the anomaly growing inside you.
But the most surprising variable of month six was one that neither you nor Jake’s extensive, fifty-page binder of pregnancy statistics had fully prepared him for.
Your hormones had shifted again. And this time, they had manifested as an intense, almost overwhelming spike in your libido.
It wasn't something you could easily graph on a chart. It was a visceral, heavy heat that seemed to pool in your lower stomach, entirely separate from the fluttering kicks of the baby. It made you acutely, constantly aware of your husband. You found yourself staring at the broad line of his shoulders when he was sorting his LEGOs, or fixating on the elegant, strong span of his hands as he meticulously washed the dishes.Jake, for his part, was always eager to provide the deep, skin-to-skin pressure you both craved. But the sudden frequency and intensity of your desire was pushing the boundaries of his sensory threshold.
It came to a head late on a Friday night. The house was completely dark, save for the faint, amber glow of the bedside lamp. The blackout curtains were drawn tight, sealing out the harsh winter wind. You and Jake were tangled together beneath the heavy grey weighted blanket.You had just finished a deeply intimate, breathless session. Without the barrier of synthetic fabrics or latex, the sensory input for Jake was a massive, consuming wave of data. He had buried himself inside you with that familiar, mathematical rhythm, his hands gripping your hips with bruising, desperate need until the friction had pushed him over the edge. He had shattered with a high, fractured gasp, collapsing against your chest, his heart hammering wildly against your bare skin. Now, ten minutes later, you were lying on your side, facing him. His eyes were closed, his dark, fluffy curls damp with sweat and plastered to his forehead. His breathing was still slightly ragged as his internal processor worked overtime to categorize and store the massive influx of physical pleasure.
But your body hadn't received the memo that the sequence was over.
The heavy, throbbing heat was still there, buzzing under your skin. The single climax hadn't been enough to quiet the hormonal static in your own brain. You shifted closer, your bare leg sliding over his, pressing the soft, swollen curve of your belly against his abdomen.
You reached out, your fingers trailing lightly down the center of his chest, tracing the line of dark hair that trailed past his navel.
"Jakey?" you whispered, your voice thick and slightly raspy in the quiet room.
Jake’s eyes flew open. At the exact moment your fingers brushed lightly over his skin, his entire body flinched violently.
It wasn't a subtle movement. His chest jerked away from your hand, a sharp, ragged hiss escaping his teeth. He pulled his arms up, crossing them tightly over his own chest in a sudden, defensive posture. His dark eyes were wide, blown-out, and swimming with a frantic, chaotic energy.
"Y/N," he gasped, his voice trembling as he pressed his back firmly against the mattress, trying to put distance between your hands and his skin.
You froze instantly, yanking your hand back as if you had been burned. Your heart dropped into your stomach. "Jake? Baby, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?"
"No," he panted, squeezing his eyes shut as he fought to regulate his breathing. "No, you did not cause tissue damage. But the... the texture of your touch. It was too light. It felt like... like an electric shock. Like sparks." You realized your mistake immediately. After the massive, overwhelming neurological load of a climax, Jake's sensory receptors didn't just turn off; they became hyper-sensitized. Every nerve ending in his body was currently dialed to maximum capacity. A light, teasing touch—the kind of touch that was supposed to be seductive—felt like a swarm of angry bees on his raw skin.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, guilt instantly replacing the heavy heat of desire. You pulled your leg back, giving him space. "I'm so sorry, Jake. I didn't mean to overstimulate you." He opened his eyes, his brow furrowing in deep distress as he looked at your face. He saw the way you were pulling away. He saw the lingering flush of arousal on your chest, and his brilliant, analytical brain immediately pieced the data together. "You are still experiencing physical arousal," Jake stated, his voice tight with a sudden, crushing wave of inadequacy. He uncrossed his arms, forcing his hands down to his sides, though his fingers twitched with the effort of remaining still. "Your heart rate is still elevated. The hormonal surge... it requires a secondary sequence."
"It's fine, Jake," you promised quickly, pulling the edge of the weighted blanket up to cover yourself. "It's just the pregnancy hormones. I'm okay. We don't have to do anything."
"I am the husband," Jake insisted, his voice cracking slightly. He forced himself to roll toward you, though you could see the rigid tension in his shoulders. He reached out with a trembling hand, aiming for your waist. "It is my protocol to ensure your needs are met. I can... I can restart the sequence. I can provide the friction."
"Jake, stop," you said firmly, reaching out to catch his wrist before his hand could make contact with your skin. You didn't use a light touch. You wrapped your fingers entirely around his wrist, applying immediate, unyielding deep pressure. You squeezed his joint tightly, anchoring him to the mattress. He let out a shaky, relieved breath at the heavy pressure, but his eyes were still frantic. "I am failing the parameter," he whispered, a tear pricking the corner of his eye. "You requested a secondary round of intimacy. Normal husbands can provide multiple rounds. But my capacity is full. The static is too loud. If I experience that level of input again right now, my system will crash. I am defective."
"Look at me," you commanded softly, moving your face closer until you occupied his entire field of vision. He blinked, a tear slipping down his cheek to soak into the pillowcase. "You are not defective," you told him, pouring every ounce of love and absolute certainty into your voice. "You are Jake. Your nervous system processes the world differently, and that includes how you process pleasure. You gave me everything you had ten minutes ago, and it was beautiful. I am not going to let you push yourself into a sensory meltdown just because my hormones are acting crazy."
"But you are still in distress," he argued weakly, his eyes dropping to your lips.
"I am not in distress," you corrected, offering him a warm, reassuring smile. "I'm just a little horny. There's a massive difference. And I would rather be a little frustrated for one night than watch you suffer through an overload."
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in the dim light. "You are certain? You are not angry with the limitations of my processor?"
"I love your processor," you whispered, lifting his heavy hand and bringing it to your lips. You pressed a firm, deliberate kiss to his knuckles. "I love exactly how you are built. Now, what does your system need right now to quiet the static? Tell me."
Jake closed his eyes, running a quick internal diagnostic. "The light touch is painful," he mumbled, his voice dropping back to its soothing baritone. "The air currents on my skin are distracting. I require compression. Heavy, stationary compression."
"Okay. Come here."
You shifted onto your back, opening your arms. Jake didn't hesitate. He practically dove across the few inches separating you. He laid his head squarely on your chest, right over your heart, and threw his heavy arm and leg across your body. He didn't move. He didn't stroke your skin. He just locked himself against you, his absolute dead weight pressing you firmly into the mattress. You wrapped your arms around his broad, sweat-dampened back, applying as much squeezing pressure as you could muster, holding him together while his overloaded nerves slowly began to cool down.
"Is this better?" you murmured into his hair.
"Yes," he let out a long, shuddering sigh, the rigid tension finally melting out of his muscles. "The static is decreasing. The heavy pressure is optimal. You are my favorite variable, Y/N."
"And you're mine, Spidey," you smiled, the lingering heat of your libido fading away, replaced by a profound, overwhelming wave of tender affection. You didn't need a second round. Holding your husband while he found his peace was the best feeling in the world.
A week later, the highly anticipated twenty-four-week anatomy scan arrived.
The clinic was a sensory minefield, but Jake had perfected his navigation protocols. He walked through the brightly lit, sterile-smelling waiting room wearing his polarized sunglasses to cut the fluorescent glare, his noise-canceling headphones resting securely over his ears. He held your hand in a vice grip, his thumb pressing rhythmically into your knuckles—his physical tether to reality.
When the ultrasound technician called your name, he followed you into the small, dimly lit examination room. He only took off the sunglasses when the lights were turned off, and he slid the headphones down around his neck so he could hear the technician's instructions. You lay back on the crinkly paper of the examination table, pulling your shirt up to expose your swollen belly. Jake pulled a chair up immediately beside the bed. He didn't sit back; he perched on the edge of the seat, his knees pressed against the side of the table, his eyes locked onto the black-and-white monitor.
"Alright, let's take a look at this little one," the technician smiled, squirting a generous amount of warm gel onto your stomach.
You hissed slightly at the texture, but Jake didn't look at you. His dark eyes were wide, reflecting the glowing light of the ultrasound screen.
The wand pressed into your skin, and suddenly, the static snow on the monitor resolved into a clear, distinct image. A perfect, miniature spine. A tiny, beating heart that fluttered rapidly like a hummingbird's wings.
"The heart rate is 142 beats per minute," Jake announced before the technician even had a chance to measure it, his voice hushed and reverent. "It is mathematically strong."
"Spot on, Dad," the technician laughed, clicking her mouse to take a few measurements. "Everything looks completely healthy. All the organs are developing beautifully. The femur length is in the 85th percentile. You're going to have a tall one."
Jake's chest puffed out just a fraction. He reached out blindly, finding your hand on the table and gripping it tightly. "Now," the technician said, angling the wand slightly. "I know it's in your file that you wanted to know the sex today. Are you both still ready for that?"
You looked at Jake. He hadn't expressed a preference either way. His logical brain maintained that biological sex was simply a chromosomal reality, not a measure of the child's value. But as he stared at the screen, you could see a rapid, fluttering anticipation in his jaw. "We're ready," you confirmed softly.
The technician clicked a button, zooming in on the lower half of the tiny, curled-up body on the screen. "Well," she smiled, pointing to a distinct set of shapes on the monitor. "There's absolutely no mistaking that. You've got yourselves a healthy baby boy." The room went entirely silent. Jake stopped breathing. He stared at the screen, his dark eyes locked onto the image. His mouth opened slightly, a tiny gasp caught in the back of his throat.A boy.
"Jake?" you whispered, squeezing his hand. "Spidey, did you hear that?"
Jake slowly turned his head to look at you. The clinical, protective mask he wore in public spaces had completely vanished. His eyes were shining with a bright, glassy layer of unshed tears. The corners of his mouth were trembling as a massive, uncontrollable smile broke across his face. "XY chromosomes," he whispered, his voice cracking with pure, unfiltered joy. "The genetic data has been confirmed. It is a male."
"It's a boy, baby," you laughed, tears of your own spilling over your cheeks.
Jake looked back at the screen, his free hand coming up to cover his mouth as if he couldn't contain the sheer volume of his happiness. His leg started to bounce rapidly against the side of the examination table—a massive, joyful stim.
"He is a boy," Jake repeated, the reality of it settling into his bones. He leaned forward, his face inches from the monitor. "He will require the Spider-Man pajamas. The tagless ones. I must procure the correct sizes for his developmental stages. He will have my genetic markers. Y/N... we are manufacturing a miniature version."
"We are," you sobbed happily, bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckles. The technician handed you a long strip of glossy ultrasound photos, grinning from ear to ear. Jake practically vibrated out of his chair as he helped you wipe the gel off your stomach. He was so overwhelmed with positive data that he didn't even need to put his headphones back on when you walked out through the waiting room.
He just held your hand, his chest puffed out, walking with the undeniable pride of a man who had just solved the greatest equation in the universe.
The news of a grandson sent Sarah into an absolute tailspin of joy.
The very next day, a Saturday, she arrived at your front door at exactly 10:00 AM. She didn't just bring her usual Tupperware of leftover roast; she brought two massive canvas bags overflowing with baby name books, printouts of statistical popularity charts, and a box of non-toxic, hypoallergenic markers."I couldn't sleep," Sarah announced, dropping the bags onto the kitchen island with a heavy thud. She pulled off her coat, her dark eyes—so much like Jake's—sparkling with manic excitement. "I spent all night on the Social Security Administration's database. We have to be strategic."
Jake was sitting at the round wooden table, a brand-new, unopened LEGO Architecture set resting in front of him. But he wasn't looking at the box. He had his laptop open, an incredibly complex Excel spreadsheet illuminating his face.
"I have already initiated a database," Jake informed his mother, his tone incredibly serious. "I have categorized potential names by origin, syllable count, and phonetic clarity. A name is a primary identifier. It cannot be ambiguous." You sat at the island, nursing a cup of decaf tea, watching the two of them with a heart so full it physically ached. "Okay, let's hear the parameters," Sarah said, pulling out a stool and flipping open a heavy book titled 100,000 Baby Names for the Modern Parent.
Jake adjusted his glasses, peering at the screen. "The name must have a strong phonetic structure," he dictated, his fingers resting lightly on the keyboard. "It cannot contain soft, trailing vowels that are easily misheard in loud environments. It must be easily spelled to prevent bureaucratic errors. And it cannot be within the top ten most popular names of the current decade. Anomaly designation requires a unique identifier, but not one that is socially isolating."
"So, 'Liam' is out," Sarah noted, crossing a line through a piece of paper. "It's number one."
"Liam is highly inefficient," Jake agreed, shaking his head. "There are statistically three Liams in every kindergarten class. The auditory confusion would be overwhelming for the child."
"What about Arthur?" you suggested, resting your chin on your hand. "It's classic. Easy to spell."
Jake's eyes darted across his spreadsheet. He typed the name into a search bar. "Arthur. Meaning: Bear. Origin: Celtic. Two syllables. The 'th' fricative consonant provides a solid phonetic center." He paused, his brow furrowing as he processed the data. He looked at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "It is structurally sound. I approve of Arthur."
"Arthur Sim," Sarah tested the name, her eyes watering instantly. She slapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh my god, it sounds so distinguished. Like a little professor."
"He will be highly intelligent," Jake stated matter-of-factly, closing his laptop slightly. "He has Y/N's neural pathways. She fixes the leaky pipes."
You laughed, reaching across the space to playfully swat at his arm. "He's going to have your brain, Jake. He's going to be building scale models of the Brooklyn Bridge by the time he's four."
Jake looked down at his hands, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly against the side of his laptop. The analytical mask slipped for a moment, revealing the profound, raw vulnerability beneath. "I hope he has your brain," Jake whispered, his voice dropping so low it was almost lost in the quiet kitchen. He didn't look at his mother; he looked directly at you. "I hope his volume dial works correctly. I do not want him to feel the static." The kitchen went still. Sarah lowered her book, her expression softening into a look of fierce, protective love for her son.
You stood up from your stool. You walked around the island, your heavy belly preceding you, and stood beside his chair. You ran your fingers through his dark, fluffy hair, applying the gentle, rhythmic pressure he loved. "Jake," you said softly, making sure he met your eyes. "If he has your brain, he is going to be the luckiest boy in the world. He'll see the colors in the soap bubbles. He'll notice the Fibonacci sequence in the flowers. And if the world ever gets too loud for him..." You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "...he will have the best dad in the entire universe to teach him how to build a safe room."
Jake let out a shaky breath, leaning his face against your stomach, right where his son was currently sleeping. "I will build him the strongest walls," Jake promised into the fabric of your sweater, his arms coming up to wrap securely around your waist. "The structural integrity will be flawless." Sarah sniffled loudly from the island, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Well," she managed a watery laugh, picking up her pen again. "Arthur is definitely going on the shortlist. But we still need a middle name. Something with a good consonant-to-vowel ratio."
Jake lifted his head, his dark eyes shining with absolute clarity and a deep, overwhelming love. "The middle name is a secondary variable," Jake told his mother, his hand resting flat against your belly. "The primary variable is already perfect."
By the time the calendar flipped to February, marking the eighth month of your pregnancy, the beige house felt less like a building and more like a heavily fortified bunker. Winter was raging outside, dumping feet of snow onto the driveway and howling against the windowpanes. Month eight was entirely different from month six. The romantic, hormone-fueled haze had been thoroughly replaced by sheer, undeniable physical exhaustion. Your belly was a massive, taut drum that dictated every movement you made. Rolling over in bed was a multi-step sequence that required strategic planning and leveraged momentum. Your center of gravity was so far skewed that Jake hovered behind you whenever you walked down the hallway, his hands raised two inches from your hips, ready to initiate a physical catch protocol if your balance failed.The anomaly—now regularly referred to as Arthur—was running out of room. His movements were no longer gentle flutters; they were sharp, visible protrusions of a heel or an elbow against your skin. Jake found this biological reality both fascinating and deeply alarming.It was a Thursday evening. You were seated on your designated side of the living room sofa, propped up by a meticulously engineered mountain of pillows. Jake was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table.But he wasn't sorting LEGOs. He hadn't touched a plastic brick in three weeks. Instead, the coffee table was covered in sterile, organized piles of items. Jake was conducting his daily audit of the "Hospital Protocol" bag.
He had a clipboard. He was wearing his glasses, his dark brown eyes narrowed in intense, frantic concentration as he checked off items with a black pen.
"The receiving blankets," Jake muttered, his voice tight and clipped. He picked up a stack of soft, washed cotton cloths. He rubbed his thumb over the edge of the fabric, verifying the texture. "100% organic cotton. Washed twice in the unscented detergent. The seams are flat. The structural integrity is intact. Check."
He placed the blankets into the grey duffel bag with robotic precision, then looked back at his clipboard."The infant's external garments," he continued, picking up a tiny, dark blue onesie. He turned it inside out, meticulously inspecting the tagless collar. "No synthetic fibers. No localized friction points. Check." You watched him from the sofa, your heart aching with a mixture of overwhelming love and a creeping, heavy guilt.Jake had been like this for weeks. As the due date loomed closer, the abstract concept of a baby had solidified into an impending, unavoidable collision with the outside world. To give birth, you had to go to the hospital. The hospital was Jake's ultimate nightmare. It was a chaotic environment filled with unpredictable variables. Fluorescent lights operating on a 60-hertz flicker cycle. The sharp, random beeping of heart monitors. The smell of harsh antiseptic chemicals that burned his olfactory receptors. And, worst of all, a building full of strangers who would be touching his permanent variable while she was in severe physical distress.
He couldn't control the hospital. So, he was over-controlling what he could: the bag, the route, and the exact inventory of the nursery."Jake," you said softly, shifting your heavy weight against the pillows. "You checked the bag yesterday. And the day before. The inventory hasn't changed, baby. It's perfectly packed."
Jake froze. His hand hovered over a pair of tiny socks. His shoulders were rigid, hitched up toward his ears in a permanent state of defensive tension."The variables must be continuously verified," Jake replied, not looking up at you. His voice was entirely devoid of its usual warmth; it was hollow, flat, and vibrating with an undercurrent of barely suppressed panic. "Human error is a statistical probability. If I do not audit the inventory, a scratchy fabric could be introduced. The anomaly—Arthur—cannot experience the cobweb sensation upon entry into the environment. I must be precise."
"Spidey, look at me," you tried again, reaching a hand out toward him.
He flinched slightly, but he didn't turn his head. He dropped the socks into the bag, his fingers trembling as he gripped the edges of his clipboard."I cannot look right now," he whispered, his breathing growing shallow and fast. "If I lose my visual focus on the inventory, the sequence breaks. If the sequence breaks, the protocol fails. The hospital is exactly 12.4 miles away. The snow accumulation is currently at four inches. The friction coefficient of the tires—"
"Jake," you interrupted, the volume of your voice rising just a fraction out of desperation.
Suddenly, your body hijacked the conversation.It started low in your back, a dull ache that rapidly, violently wrapped around your abdomen. Your stomach tightened with a fierce, crushing pressure that literally drove the breath from your lungs. It was a Braxton Hicks contraction, but it was the strongest one you had felt yet.You gasped, your hands flying down to clutch the underside of your belly. A sharp, pained hiss escaped your lips before you could stop it. "Ah—" The sound was a bomb detonating in the quiet living room. Jake’s clipboard clattered to the floor. The sharp crack of the plastic hitting the hardwood echoed sharply.He whipped around to face you, his eyes wide, terrified, and blown completely black. He saw you gripping your stomach, your face pale and contorted in a grimace.The fragile, meticulously maintained dam in his brain shattered instantly. "The timeline is incorrect!" Jake shouted, the sheer volume of his own voice startling him. He scrambled backward, his hands flying up to grip the sides of his head. "It is month eight. The gestational parameter is 40 weeks. We are at 34 weeks and 2 days. It is too early! The protocol is not finished!"
"Jake, wait," you gasped, trying to breathe through the tightening of your uterus. "It's just a—"
"I have not calculated the winter storm variable into an emergency transit!" he continued, his breathing spiraling into full-blown hyperventilation. He wasn't looking at you; he was looking through you, trapped in the terrifying, deafening static of his own mind. He scrambled to his feet, pacing frantically behind the coffee table. "The bag is incomplete. The car is cold. You are in distress. Your pain receptors are firing. I have to fix the malfunction. I am the husband, I have to fix it, but I cannot stop the biological sequence!" He grabbed a handful of his own hair, pulling hard, a physical manifestation of his internal overload.
"Make it stop," he whimpered, his voice cracking into a jagged sob. "I can't compute the noise. The hospital is too loud. They are going to hurt you. The machines are going to beep, and you are going to scream, and I will not be able to apply deep pressure to stop the pain! I am failing! I am a defective variable!"
The sheer, agonizing devastation in his voice cut through your physical discomfort like a hot knife.The contraction was already beginning to fade, the muscles in your abdomen slowly releasing their iron grip, but the emotional damage in the room was catastrophic. Jake was in the red zone. He was drowning in his own inadequacy, convinced that his sensory limitations made him incapable of protecting you during the most vulnerable moment of your life.You didn't care about the heaviness of your body. You didn't care about the lingering ache in your back. You pushed yourself off the sofa, ignoring the clumsy, unbalanced sway of your center of gravity. "Jake!" you called out, your voice firm and authoritative. He didn't hear you. He was rocking back and forth on his heels, his hands clamped over his ears now, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as the tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. He was completely disconnected from the room, swallowed whole by the system crash.
You crossed the living room. You didn't hesitate. You stepped right over the spilled hospital bag, ignoring the meticulously folded organic blankets on the floor.
You reached him. You grabbed his wrists, your fingers locking around his forearms with a desperate, unyielding strength.
He jerked violently, a choked gasp tearing from his throat at the unexpected contact, but you didn't let go. "Deep pressure," you commanded, stepping into his space until your swollen belly brushed against his tense abdomen. "Jake, listen to my voice. Feel my hands. I am applying deep pressure. You are in the living room. I am Y/N. You are Jake. The static is a lie."He fought you for a second, his muscles rigid and trembling like a strained cable, his head shaking back and forth. "Failing," he choked out, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. "I am failing the protocol. It hurts you."
"Open your eyes," you ordered, squeezing his wrists harder, anchoring him to the physical reality of the moment. "Look at my face. Now."
Slowly, agonizingly, his dark eyes fluttered open. They were wild, bloodshot, and completely shattered."Look at me," you softened your voice, shifting from command to comfort. "I am not in pain. The contraction is gone. It was a false alarm. A Braxton Hicks. The anomaly is just flexing his muscles. He is staying exactly where he is. We have six weeks left. The timeline is perfectly intact."
Jake stared at you, his chest heaving as his processor struggled to parse the new data. "False... alarm?"
"Yes," you promised, releasing one of his wrists to reach up and cup his cheek. His skin was incredibly hot, radiating the heat of his adrenaline spike. You stroked your thumb firmly under his eye, wiping away a tear. "The sequence did not break."
He let out a ragged, tearing breath, his knees buckling slightly. You held onto him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders as he slumped forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
He didn't wrap his arms around you. They hung uselessly at his sides as he wept against your collarbone, the emotional exhaustion of his panic attack hitting him like a physical blow."I am terrified, Y/N," Jake confessed into your skin, his voice so fragile it broke your heart entirely. "I have built the crib. I have audited the fabrics. I have mapped the route. But I cannot control the birth. It is a massive, violent biological variable. I read the medical journals. The paing you will experience is statistically severe. And I cannot take it from you." You squeezed your eyes shut, resting your cheek against his dark, messy curls. "And the hospital," he continued, a shudder running through his heavy frame. "The fluorescent lights burn my retinas. The noise of the machinery disrupts my cognitive function. What if the static gets so loud that I shut down? What if you need me, and I cannot move because I am trapped in the noise? I cannot fail you. I cannot let you be alone in a room full of strangers."
He was terrified of his own neurology. He was terrified that his autism, the very thing that made him so beautifully, meticulously attentive to you, would be the thing that ultimately abandoned you when you needed him most.t"Jake, baby, listen to me," you whispered fiercely, your hands rubbing firm, rhythmic circles into his tense back. "You have never, ever failed me. Do you hear me? Never."
He sniffled, his breath hot against your neck. "But the data—"
"Screw the data," you interrupted, pulling back just enough to force him to look at you again. You held his face in both of your hands, making sure he saw the absolute, unwavering conviction in your eyes. "I don't care about the statistics. I don't care about the medical journals. I care about you."
He blinked, another tear slipping down his cheek."The hospital is going to be loud," you validated his fear, keeping your voice steady and calm. "It is going to be chaotic. But we are going to manage the variables together. Sarah is going to be there to buffer the doctors. You are going to wear your noise-canceling headphones. You are going to bring the weighted blanket. And you are not going to leave my side."
"But your pain," he whimpered, his eyes dropping to your stomach.
"You are going to help me through the pain," you promised him. "Because you are my anchor, Jake. When I am hurting, you are going to hold my hand, and you are going to apply deep pressure. You are going to count my breaths for me, because you have the best internal clock in the world. You are the only person who can keep me grounded." Jake stared at you, his internal processor rapidly analyzing the new role you had just assigned him.He wasn't powerless. He had a protocol. Apply deep pressure. Count the breaths. Ground the variable."I can count," Jake whispered, his voice gaining a fraction of its usual factual cadence. "I can track the duration and frequency of the contractions. I can provide stationary compression."
"Exactly," you smiled, a few tears of your own finally spilling over. "You are not a defective variable, Spidey. You are the only math that makes sense to me. I need you in that room. Not a 'normal' husband. I need you."
Jake took a deep, shuddering breath. The frantic, chaotic energy that had been vibrating under his skin finally, completely dissipated. He brought his hands up, wrapping them securely around your waist, pulling your heavy belly flush against his abdomen.He didn't just hold you; he anchored you."I will not shut down," Jake vowed, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a fierce, profound intensity that took your breath away. "I will wear the headphones, but my eyes will be on you. I will track the data. I will not let the static win. I am your permanent variable."
"I know you are," you breathed.
You didn't wait for him to close the distance. You leaned up, pressing your lips firmly against his.It wasn't a gentle, reassuring peck. It was a deep, desperate, grounding kiss. It was the physical manifestation of all the love, trust, and absolute certainty you held for him.Jake responded instantly. The fear melted out of his posture, replaced by the overwhelming, consuming gravity of his love for you. He kissed you back with a fierce, meticulous passion, his hands sliding up your back to tangle in your hair. He tasted like salt and adrenaline, but his lips were incredibly soft, moving against yours with a deliberate, rhythmic pressure that chased the last lingering shadows of his panic out of the room.He poured everything he had into the kiss, anchoring himself to the taste of your mouth, the heat of your skin, and the solid, heavy reality of your body against his.When you finally broke apart, gasping softly for air, Jake kept his forehead pressed against yours. His eyes were closed, his breathing perfectly synced with yours."The thermal transfer is optimal," he murmured, a tiny, genuine smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
You laughed, a wet, joyous sound, resting your hands flat against his broad chest. "It always is."Jake opened his eyes. He looked down at the floor, at the scattered piles of baby clothes and the dropped clipboard. The chaos that had caused his meltdown ten minutes ago was still there, but it didn't look like a systemic failure anymore. It just looked like a task."I need to repack the inventory," Jake stated, his voice calm, returning to its comfortable, logical baseline. "The organic receiving blankets are currently touching the hardwood floor. They must be re-washed to ensure sterility."
"We can wash them tomorrow, baby," you suggested gently, running a hand down his arm. "Let's just go to bed. The anomaly is asleep, and I'm exhausted."
Jake considered this. He looked at the bag, then looked at your tired face.
"Optimal recovery requires sleep," he agreed, wrapping his arm around your waist to support your center of gravity. "The protocol can wait until 0800 hours. Come, Y/N. Let's go to the quiet room." You walked down the hallway together, incredibly slow, his hand providing the constant, deep pressure that held your entire world together. The unpredictable variables of the future were still looming, but as Jake pulled the heavy grey weighted blanket over both of you in the dark, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that your structural integrity was flawless.
The final weeks of your pregnancy felt like existing in a state of suspended animation.
It was late February. The world outside was still locked in the icy grip of winter, but inside the beige two-story house, time seemed to have slowed to a thick, agonizing crawl. You were thirty-eight weeks pregnant. The hospital bag, after being audited by Jake no less than forty-two times, was sitting fully packed by the front door.
It was a Tuesday afternoon. The house was quiet, save for the faint, rhythmic sound of Jake moving around in the nursery down the hall.You were standing at the kitchen island, a task you could only manage for about ten minutes before your swollen, aching feet demanded you sit down. Your parents, who lived three cities away, had sent a massive, gorgeous bouquet of flowers to celebrate the impending arrival of their grandson.You had filled a glass vase with lukewarm water and were methodically trimming the stems and stripping the excess leaves. Snip. Snip. The scent of eucalyptus and blooming lilies was strong, but pleasant. It was a grounding, repetitive sensory task.Down the hall, you could hear the soft hum of Jake’s voice. He wasn't talking to you; he was talking to the room. "The ambient light from the streetlamp will filter through the primary window at an angle of 45 degrees," Jake was murmuring to himself, likely adjusting the blackout curtains for the hundredth time. "The secondary acoustic panels are secure. The friction coefficient of the rug is optimal for crawling, though that biological milestone is currently months away. The inventory is stable."You smiled, tossing a handful of trimmed leaves into the compost bin. He was trying so hard to control the environment, trying to build a fortress strong enough to withstand the chaotic, unpredictable variable of childbirth.
You reached for a heavy, dark pink peony. You clamped the floral shears around the thick stem.
Snip.Simultaneously, a distinct, bizarre pop echoed low in your pelvis.
You froze. The floral shears slipped from your fingers, clattering loudly onto the granite countertop.
For a microsecond, there was no pain. There was only a sudden, overwhelming rush of warm fluid flooding down your thighs, soaking instantly through your maternity leggings and splashing onto the kitchen linoleum. "Oh," you gasped, your hands flying down to brace yourself against the edge of the island. Before your brain could even process the reality of your water breaking, the first contraction hit.
It didn't build slowly like the books had promised. It didn't start as a dull, menstrual-like ache. It hit you with the force of a high-speed collision—a massive, crushing band of iron clamping down around your abdomen and your lower spine with violent, breathless intensity. Your knees instantly buckled.You went down hard, catching yourself on your hands and knees right in the middle of the kitchen floor, surrounded by fallen leaves and the expanding puddle of amniotic fluid. A raw, guttural cry tore from your throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated shock and agony.
"Ah—! Jake! Jake!"
The sound of your scream shattered the quiet peace of the house.
The heavy, rapid thud of Jake’s footsteps echoed down the hallway instantly. He didn't just walk into the kitchen; he skidded into it, his socks slipping slightly on the hardwood before he caught himself on the doorframe. "Y/N?" Jake gasped, his chest heaving.He saw you on the floor. He saw the sheer, contorted agony on your face. And then, his eyes dropped to the puddle of fluid on the linoleum.
The biological variable. The system failure.Jake’s entire body went rigid. The color completely drained from his face, leaving him deathly pale. His hands flew up, hovering frantically around his chest as if he didn't know what to do with his own limbs.
"The... the timeline," Jake stammered, his voice jumping an entire octave, thin and panicked. "It is week thirty-eight. The statistical average is forty weeks. The fluid... your amniotic sac has ruptured. The sequence has initiated prematurely!"
"Jake," you sobbed, squeezing your eyes shut as the contraction refused to let go. It was blinding, a white-hot agony that made your entire body shake. "Jake, it hurts. It hurts so bad." That sentence broke him.Jake had spent the last two years dedicating every ounce of his massive, beautiful brain to keeping you safe. He audited your environment. He maintained the climate control. He massaged the fluid out of your swollen feet. You were his permanent variable, the only thing in the universe that made the static quiet. And now, you were writhing on the floor in a level of physical agony he had never, ever witnessed. A sharp, ragged whimper tore from Jake’s throat. He dropped to his knees right into the puddle of fluid, completely ignoring the sensory nightmare of the wet linoleum soaking through his jeans.He reached out, his large hands hovering over your back, trembling violently. He was terrified to touch you, terrified that his pressure would somehow exacerbate the pain.
T"You are in distress," Jake cried, the tears spilling instantly over his eyelashes, tracking fast and hot down his pale cheeks. "Your pain receptors are overloading. The volume is too high. I can see it. You are shaking. Y/N, I don't know how to fix it! I don't have the protocol to stop the biology!"
He pulled his hands back, grabbing fistfuls of his own dark hair, his breathing spiraling into rapid, shallow gasps. The sensory overload of your screaming, the visual trauma of your pain, and his own overwhelming, suffocating helplessness were crashing his system all at once. "Jake, no, don't pull away," you gasped, managing to lift one shaking hand to reach blindly for him. "Deep pressure. Please. My hips. Squeeze my hips."He heard the command. Apply deep pressure.
He let go of his hair. He crawled forward, positioning himself behind you. He placed his large, warm hands firmly on either side of your hips and squeezed with everything he had. "I am compressing the joints," Jake wept, his tears falling freely onto the back of your shirt. His chest heaved against your spine, his entire heavy frame shaking with the force of his sobs. "I am applying pressure. But you are still crying. It is not fixing the malfunction. Y/N, please, I cannot watch you hurt. It is too loud in my chest. It is tearing my data apart."
"You're helping," you panted, the contraction finally, agonizingly beginning to peak and slowly recede. "You are... anchoring me. Just hold me."
He slumped forward, wrapping his arms securely around your heavy belly, burying his wet face in the crook of your neck. He was sobbing openly now, the sound broken and terrified. He hated this. He hated the lack of control. He hated that his safe harbor was in pain."I have to initiate the transit sequence," Jake choked out, trying to force his logical brain back online through the haze of his tears. "The hospital bag is at the door. The car... I have to warm up the car. But I cannot leave you on the floor. If another contraction hits, you will lack compression."
You were both trapped. You couldn't walk, and he couldn't leave you to get the car ready without risking a massive panic attack for both of you.
And then, the front door unlocked.
"Y/N? Jakey? I let myself in!"
It was Sarah. It was Tuesday. She was arriving for your weekly Tuesday dinner, carrying two bags of groceries because you couldn't stand at the stove anymore.
Sarah walked into the kitchen, a smile on her face, and immediately dropped both bags of groceries onto the floor. Tomatoes and boxes of pasta spilled out, rolling across the hardwood, but she didn't even look at them. She took in the scene in a fraction of a second. The water on the floor. You on your hands and knees. Her son, weeping hysterically, wrapped around you like a human shield.
"Oh, my god," Sarah breathed. The mother-bear instinct, honed over twenty-six years of managing crises, snapped into place instantly.She crossed the kitchen in three strides. She didn't yell, knowing the volume would shatter Jake further. She dropped to her knees right beside the two of you, placing a firm, grounding hand on Jake’s shaking shoulder.
"Jake," Sarah said, her voice dropping into that calm, authoritative, unshakable register she used when he was a child having a meltdown. "Look at me, honey."
Jake lifted his head from your neck. His face was a mess of tears and raw, unfiltered terror. "Mom," he gasped, his voice cracking. "The sequence initiated early. The pain variable is extreme. I cannot stop her pain."
"You aren't supposed to stop it, Jakey," Sarah promised him fiercely, brushing a sweaty curl off his forehead. "You are just supposed to hold her. And you are doing a perfect job. But we need to move the environment to the hospital. Right now."
"I cannot leave her to start the car," he wept, his grip tightening around your waist. "She requires deep pressure."
"You don't have to leave her," Sarah commanded, already pulling her car keys back out of her pocket. "My car is running. It's warm. It's parked right at the bottom of the driveway. I am driving. You are going to stay right beside her the entire time."
Another wave of tightness began to coil low in your back. The interval was impossibly short."Sarah," you whimpered, bracing your hands against the floor again. "Another one. It's coming fast."
"Okay, Jake, on three, we are going to lift her," Sarah instructed, moving to your other side. "We are going to get her to the backseat of my car. You will provide the physical support. Can you execute the lift?"
Jake’s jaw clenched. The tears were still streaming down his face, his chest still heaving with panicked sobs, but the presence of his mother and a clear, defined set of instructions offered a tiny foothold in the chaos.
"I can execute the lift," Jake confirmed, his voice vibrating with absolute determination.
"One. Two. Three."
Jake hauled you up, taking almost your entire weight against his own body. He practically carried you down the hallway. He didn't even stop to grab his coat. He just grabbed the grey hospital bag by the door with his free hand and pushed out into the biting, freezing February air.Sarah had the backseat door of her SUV open. Jake maneuvered you inside, laying you across the seats, and instantly climbed in right beside you. He didn't sit in the seatbelt; he wedged himself onto the floorboard, kneeling so his face was level with yours and his hands could maintain their vice-grip on your hips.Sarah slammed the door, threw the hospital bag into the front, and jumped into the driver's seat. "I'm putting the hazards on," Sarah announced, throwing the car into drive and accelerating hard out of the suburban neighborhood. "We will be there in twelve minutes."The small, confined space of the backseat felt like a pressure cooker.The second contraction hit its peak just as Sarah took a sharp turn. You screamed, a loud, ragged sound that bounced off the windows. You couldn't help it. The pain was an all-consuming fire.Jake flinched violently at the sound, a fresh sob tearing from his own throat. He was crying just as hard as you were, his face buried in the heavy wool of your maternity sweater."I'm sorry," he wept, his thumbs pressing brutally hard into your hipbones, trying to force the deep pressure through the agony. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. Please, I want to take it. I want to swap the data. Give it to me."
"You're... doing it," you panted, your fingers tangling desperately in his dark hair, pulling his head up so you could see his face. "Jake, look at me. Count. Remember the protocol? Count my breaths."He stared at you, his brown eyes wide and shattered, swimming in tears. He took a massive, shuddering breath, forcing his analytical brain to latch onto the numbers."Inhale," Jake choked out, his voice shaking. "One... two... three... four. Exhale."You blew the air out through your teeth, your eyes locked onto his."Inhale," he wept, keeping the rhythm steady even as his own body shook with terror. "One... two... three... four. The interval is approximately ninety seconds. The duration of the peak is forty-five seconds. You have fifteen seconds of peak physical trauma remaining."
"I love you," you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as the pain finally began to recede. "I love you, Spidey."
"I love you," he cried, leaning forward to press his wet, salty forehead against yours. "I am right here. I am the wall."
"Jake," Sarah called from the front seat, her voice tight but remarkably steady as she navigated the icy roads. "Your headphones. Put them on. The hospital emergency entrance is going to be loud, and I need you grounded."Jake reached blindly into the front pocket of his hoodie. He pulled out the heavy Sony noise-canceling headphones. His hands were shaking so badly he almost dropped them, but he managed to slide them over his ears.
He didn't turn the noise-canceling feature all the way up. He left it at 50%. He needed to hear the ambient noise dampened, but he absolutely refused to block out the sound of your voice. If you needed him, he had to hear the data.Sarah pulled the SUV sharply into the red-lit emergency bay of the hospital. She laid on the horn, a long, aggressive blast that signaled an incoming emergency.
Nurses were outside with a wheelchair in seconds.The transition from the safe, insulated bubble of the car to the blinding, chaotic reality of the hospital was an assault on the senses. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed with that aggressive 60-hertz cycle. The air smelled of sharp alcohol and sterile bleach. Radios were crackling, and people were shouting orders.
It was Jake's personal hell.As they helped you into the wheelchair, another contraction ripped through your body. You folded forward, crying out.
Jake stood frozen by the car door for exactly two seconds. His hands flew up to the sides of his headphones, his shoulders hiking up to his ears, his body desperately trying to fold inward to escape the sensory attack of the emergency room bay. The static in his head was a roaring, deafening tidal wave.
System crash imminent.
But then he looked at you. He saw you gripping the armrests of the wheelchair, your knuckles white, your face pale and twisted in pain.
His permanent variable.Jake let out a low, guttural growl—a sound of sheer, absolute defiance against his own neurology. He dropped his hands from his headphones. He closed the distance, grabbed the handles of your wheelchair from the nurse, and shoved it forward himself.
"Do not touch her," Jake snapped at an orderly who tried to assist, his voice taking on a cold, flat, entirely robotic tone—his ultimate defense mechanism. "She requires deep pressure. I am the husband. I am the primary support. Direct me to the labor and delivery ward. Now." The nurses, taking one look at the massive, fiercely protective man with tears streaming down his face and headphones over his ears, didn't argue. They led the way.Sarah ran right beside you, carrying the grey duffel bag, her hand resting on Jake’s back to guide him through the harsh, echoing corridors.When they finally got you into a delivery room, the chaos only intensified. Machines were hooked up. Wires were taped to your belly. The monitors began to beep—a sharp, high-pitched ping that measured the baby's heart rate and the intensity of your contractions.Jake stood rigidly beside the bed. He had pulled his dark blue hoodie up over his head, the hood layered over his headphones to create an additional sensory barrier. He looked terrified. He was still crying, silent tears tracking steadily down his pale face, but his hands were locked onto yours.
"The biological anomaly is arriving," Jake whispered to you, his thumb stroking your knuckles frantically as the nurse adjusted the IV in your arm. "The data is overwhelming. But the heart rate monitor indicates 140 beats per minute. Arthur is stable. You are stable."
"I need you to stay with me," you panted, the exhaustion beginning to blur the edges of your vision.
"I am stationary," Jake promised fiercely, leaning down so his face was inches from yours. "I am not leaving the coordinates. I will count every breath. I will audit every variable."And he did.
For the next six hours, Jake Sim endured the most profoundly overstimulating environment of his entire life, and he did it without shutting down.When the pain grew too intense for you to speak, he became your voice. He utilized his incredibly clinical vocabulary to communicate exactly what you were experiencing to the nurses, leaving no room for medical ambiguity. When the fluorescent lights became too much for him, he didn't leave the room; he simply closed his eyes and buried his face in the blankets beside your hip, maintaining the heavy, deep pressure you required.
Sarah sat in the corner, managing the logistics, answering the doctors' questions, and watching her son perform miracles.When it was finally time to push, the room filled with doctors. The noise level spiked. The clinical smell of iodine and blood filled the air.Jake stood right by your shoulder. He pushed one side of his headphones back, exposing his ear so he could hear you perfectly. He slid his arm behind your back, supporting your entire weight as you curled forward."The friction is massive," Jake wept with you, his face pressed against your sweaty cheek. "You are structurally incredible, Y/N. The output is almost complete. Keep pushing. One... two... three... four." You gave one final, agonizing, earth-shattering push, screaming his name into the chaotic room. And then, a new sound pierced the air.
It wasn't a beep. It wasn't the buzz of a fluorescent light. It was a loud, wet, furious wail.
You collapsed back against the pillows, gasping for air, your chest heaving.
"Time of birth, 11:42 PM," the doctor announced, placing a tiny, squalling, incredibly messy bundle directly onto your bare chest.
Jake completely froze.
He stared at the tiny, red, screaming infant resting on your chest. The baby's fists were clenched, his eyes squeezed shut against the harsh hospital lights. He was loud. He was unpredictable. He was covered in biological fluids. He was a sensory nightmare.Jake slowly reached up and pulled his headphones completely off his head, letting them drop around his neck.He didn't flinch at the crying. He didn't pull away from the mess.He leaned down, his broad shoulders shaking with fresh, overwhelming sobs, and rested his large, trembling hand gently over the baby's tiny, frantic back. The contrast between his massive hand and the tiny infant was staggering.
"Arthur," Jake whispered, his voice cracking with a love so profound it seemed to pull the gravity out of the room. "The variable is complete."
The baby, feeling the sudden, firm warmth of his father's hand, let out one last shuddering cry and slowly began to quiet down, settling into the familiar rhythm of your heartbeat."He's here, Jakey," you wept, turning your head to press a kiss to Jake's tear-soaked cheek. "He's perfect." Jake looked from the baby to you. He leaned his forehead against yours, his dark eyes shining with absolute, unvarnished awe. He had survived the noise. He had survived the chaos.
"The data was correct," Jake murmured into your skin, a wet, beautiful smile breaking across his face. "Fifty percent you. Fifty percent me. He is mathematically perfect."
Three days in the maternity ward felt less like a medical recovery and more like a prolonged sensory endurance test. For seventy-two hours, the world had been reduced to a small, starkly white room. It was a chaotic environment dictated by the hum of fluorescent bulbs, the sharp scent of antiseptic wipes, and the unpredictable, revolving door of nurses who came in at all hours to check vitals, administer pain medication, and press on your bruised, aching abdomen.For you, the exhaustion was absolute. Your body felt as though it had been put through a commercial-grade compactor. Every muscle ached, walking was a slow, shuffling physical trial, and your center of gravity had completely shifted, leaving you feeling hollowed out and incredibly fragile. Yet, beneath the crushing fatigue and the physical soreness, there was a profound, intoxicating euphoria.
You were a mother. Arthur was perfect. He was tiny, warm, and entirely reliant on you. He had a mop of dark, fluffy hair that mirrored his father’s, and a pair of dark, observant eyes that he opened just long enough to study the blurred shapes of the world before falling back into a deep, milk-drunk sleep.
For Jake, the three days in the hospital had been an exercise in sheer, unadulterated willpower. He had not left the room once. Not to get coffee, not to go to the cafeteria, not to step outside for fresh air. He had established a perimeter around your bed and Arthur's clear plastic bassinet, and he guarded it with the hyper-vigilant dedication of a sentry.
He wore his noise-canceling headphones almost the entire time, keeping the volume dial just low enough to hear your voice or Arthur’s cries, but high enough to drown out the beeping monitors and the hallway chatter. He tracked the nurses’ shifts in a small notebook. He memorized your medication schedule, reminding the staff exactly three minutes before your ibuprofen was due.But most importantly, he was your anchor. When Arthur cried in the middle of the night and the hormones and exhaustion made you weep, Jake was there. He would carefully lift the baby, applying the perfect, broad-handed deep pressure that Arthur seemed to inherently crave, and then sit on the edge of your hospital bed, wrapping his free arm around your shoulders to ground you both.Now, it was Friday morning. Discharge day.You were sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, dressed in soft, loose sweatpants and a maternity sweater. You watched as Jake executed the final packing protocol.He was standing by the small bassinet, his brow furrowed in absolute, laser-focused concentration. Arthur was dressed in his going-home outfit: a soft, dark blue, organic cotton onesie with the seams sewn on the outside to prevent localized friction.
Jake was currently securing the infant into the portable car seat.
"The chest clip must be aligned precisely with the armpit axis," Jake murmured to himself, his long fingers gently but firmly adjusting the plastic buckle over Arthur’s tiny sternum. "If it is too low, it compromises the skeletal restraint system in the event of sudden deceleration. If it is too high, it introduces an asphyxiation variable."
"It looks perfect, Spidey," you said softly, your voice raspy from fatigue.
Jake didn't look up until he had pulled the tightening strap at the bottom of the seat. He inserted two fingers beneath the shoulder harness, verifying the tension with mathematical precision. "The slack is eliminated. He is secured."
Jake finally turned to look at you. His dark eyes were shadowed with heavy bags, the physical toll of his hyper-vigilance evident in the pale, tight lines of his face. The hospital had drained his battery down to a critical one percent. He desperately needed his sanctuary."Are you ready to initiate the transit sequence?" he asked, walking over to you."I'm so ready to go home, Jake," you breathed, reaching your hands out.He leaned down, wrapping his arms around your waist, and carefully hauled you to your feet. He didn't let go of you immediately. He pressed you flush against his chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.
"You still smell like the hospital," he mumbled into your skin, his nose wrinkling slightly. "The iodine and the synthetic linens. I need to recalibrate your olfactory baseline. I need you to smell like vanilla and oats again."
"I'll take a shower as soon as we get home," you promised, rubbing his back. "Just get us to the quiet room."
A sharp knock on the door made Jake flinch, his shoulders instantly hiking up defensively.A cheerful nurse walked in, pushing a wheelchair. "Alright, Mom and Dad! It’s policy that we wheel you down to the exit. Is your ride here?"
"My mother is parked in the designated loading zone at the East Entrance," Jake stated, his voice flattening into its protective cadence. He stepped back from you, picking up the heavy car seat with one hand and grabbing the grey duffel bag with the other. "We are prepared for extraction." The nurse blinked, slightly taken aback by his terminology, but she smiled politely. "Great. Have a seat, Y/N." The journey through the hospital corridors felt like running a gauntlet. The fluorescent lights buzzed violently overhead. The wheels of the chair squeaked against the linoleum. Jake walked exactly half a step behind your left shoulder, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. He was staring straight ahead, refusing to look at the other patients, his headphones securely clamped over his ears.When the automatic sliding doors finally parted, the rush of cold, crisp February air was like a physical blow of relief.Sarah’s SUV was idling by the curb. She leaped out the moment she saw you, a massive, tearful smile on her face.
"Oh, my babies," Sarah cooed, rushing over. She hugged you first, carefully avoiding your tender abdomen, before turning to her son.
Jake didn't hug her back. He couldn't. His hands were full, and his sensory capacity was entirely maxed out. "The external environment is 34 degrees," he stated abruptly, dodging her embrace to move toward the backseat of the car. "The infant will experience a rapid thermal drop. I must initiate the docking procedure."
Sarah didn't take it personally. She knew the signs of an impending system crash better than anyone. She stepped back, her smile softening into profound understanding. "The car is warm, Jakey. Go ahead."Jake clicked the car seat perfectly into the pre-installed base. Click. Clack. He tested the structural integrity by pulling aggressively on the handle. It didn't budge a millimeter.
He then helped you into the backseat, sliding in right beside you. He pulled his door shut, sealing out the noise of the hospital traffic.The silence inside the SUV was sudden and heavy. Sarah had turned the radio completely off. The only sound was the low, steady hum of the heater and the rhythmic sound of Arthur’s tiny, snuffling breaths.Jake let out a long, shuddering exhale. His head fell back against the headrest, his eyes sliding shut. His hands, which had been clenched into tight fists, slowly uncurled on his thighs."Deep breaths, Spidey," you whispered, shifting your weight painfully to lean your head against his broad shoulder.
Jake shifted instantly, bringing his arm up to wrap securely around your shoulders, tucking you against his side. He opened his eyes, his gaze locking onto the car seat in front of him.
"The hospital is a chaotic variable," Jake murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion. "But the data collection was successful. We entered as two. We are exiting as three."
"We did it," you smiled, closing your eyes.The drive back to the house took exactly twenty minutes. Sarah drove with excruciating care, avoiding every pothole and taking the turns at a glacial pace. Jake spent the entire transit staring at Arthur’s chest, visually tracking the rise and fall of the baby’s breathing.When the SUV finally turned into your familiar driveway, the snow piled high on the lawns, your heart did a massive, relieved flutter."We're home," Sarah announced softly, putting the car in park.She got out, grabbing the duffel bags from the front, and hurried to the front door to unlock it and turn on the lights.Jake didn't rush. He opened his door, stepping out into the cold air. He unclicked the car seat with practiced ease, lifting Arthur out. Then, he offered you his free arm, providing the deep, stable pressure you needed to hoist yourself out of the low seat.Together, you walked up the front steps.
The moment Jake crossed the threshold into the house, you physically felt the shift in his energy.The front door clicked shut behind you, and the chaotic noise of the outside world vanished entirely. The house was bathed in the soft, warm glow of the amber lamps. The air smelled faintly of cedar and the clean, unscented laundry detergent he used."The temperature is exactly 69 degrees," Jake whispered, his chest expanding as he took his first real, deep breath in three days. He looked around the living room, his eyes scanning the perfectly aligned sofa cushions, the blackout curtains, and the neat rows of his LEGO bins.
The baseline had been restored.
"Welcome home, boys," you smiled, tears pricking your eyes at the sheer, overwhelming peace of the space.Sarah came walking out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "I stocked the fridge," she told you, keeping her voice pitched to a soft, soothing volume. "There's a massive batch of the organic chicken soup Y/N likes, and all the ingredients for Tuesday grilled cheese are prepped and sorted in the crisper drawer."
"Thank you, Mom," Jake said. He was still holding the car seat, standing in the entryway, processing the sensory relief.Sarah walked over. She didn't try to hug him again. She just reached out and gently smoothed down the collar of his hoodie. "You did so good, Jake. I am so incredibly proud of you. You protected them."
Jake’s jaw tightened. He looked down at the sleeping infant, then looked at you."They are my permanent variables. It is my primary function."
"I know it is," Sarah smiled, a tear slipping down her cheek. She picked up her purse from the entryway table. "Now, I am going to leave. You three need to establish your new routines. The static is gone, honey. You’ve got the manual now."
"I have the manual," Jake agreed softly.
Sarah blew you a kiss and slipped out the front door, locking it securely behind her.
And then, there were three."Let's get him out of the restraint system," Jake said, his focus immediately shifting back to the baby. "Prolonged containment in the car seat can restrict diaphragmatic expansion."
"To the nursery," you agreed, shuffling slowly down the hallway.
The nursery was exactly as Jake had built it—a masterpiece of sensory control. The walls were that soft, calming sage green. The lighting was dimmed to a mere twenty percent capacity. The acoustic panels absorbed the sound of your footsteps, making the room feel like a quiet, insulated cocoon.Jake set the car seat gently on the rug. He unbuckled the harness, his large hands incredibly gentle as he scooped the tiny infant into his arms.Arthur let out a small, disgruntled squeak at being moved, his tiny arms flailing out in a sudden startle reflex. His face scrunched up, the precursor to a loud, chaotic cry.Before the hospital, a sudden, unpredictable noise from a baby would have sent Jake’s nervous system into an immediate tailspin.
But not now.Jake didn't flinch. He didn't look for his headphones. He immediately pulled Arthur against his chest, tucking the baby's head beneath his chin. He spread his large hand over Arthur's entire back, applying a firm, steady, continuous deep pressure."Sensory overload," Jake murmured to the baby, his voice dropping into a low, resonant baritone that vibrated through his chest cavity. "The transition from the restraint system to the open air caused a proprioceptive disruption. I understand, Arthur. The world is too big right now. I am providing the boundary."
Jake began to rock. It wasn't the frantic, erratic rocking of a meltdown. It was a slow, deeply mathematical sway. Forward, two, three. Back, two, three. He calculated the momentum, keeping the rhythm flawless.Arthur’s scrunching face instantly smoothed out. The impending cry died in his throat. He felt the deep pressure. He felt the heavy, rhythmic vibration of his father’s voice. He let out a tiny, contented sigh, his little fists relaxing against Jake’s hoodie.You stood in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame, watching your husband work his magic."You're a natural, Spidey," you whispered, your heart swelling until you thought it might burst through your ribs.
Jake looked up at you as he rocked. "His nervous system is essentially a blank hard drive," he explained, though his eyes were incredibly soft. "He does not know how to self-regulate yet. He requires external compression to find his physical coordinates. It is highly logical."
"It's beautiful," you corrected him.
Jake walked over to the crib—the structurally flawless, birch wood fortress he had built. He lowered Arthur into the bassinet, keeping his hand flat against the baby's chest until the very last second, ensuring a smooth transition to the mattress.
Arthur didn't even twitch. He was out cold.Jake stood over the crib for a long moment, verifying the rise and fall of the tiny chest. He checked the digital thermometer on the changing table."The environment is stable," Jake announced quietly.He turned away from the crib and walked over to you. He didn't stop a foot away. He stepped directly into your space, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your tired, aching body flush against his."Your turn," Jake whispered into your hair."My turn for what?" you asked, melting against his solid warmth, letting him support your weight.
"Maintenance," he stated factually. "You have undergone massive biological trauma. The fluid loss, the muscle exertion, the sleep deprivation. Your structural integrity is compromised. I must initiate the recovery protocol." He didn't wait for you to argue. He swept one arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you entirely off your feet. You let out a startled laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Jake! I'm heavy!"
"Your mass is irrelevant. I have calculated the load-bearing capacity of my skeletal structure," he replied, carrying you out of the nursery and down the hall toward the master bedroom. "You are not to walk anymore today. It introduces unnecessary friction to your healing tissues."He carried you into the master bedroom. The blackout curtains were drawn tight. The bed was freshly made, the sheets crisp and smelling of his unscented detergent.He set you down gently on the edge of the mattress. He knelt in front of you, carefully untying your sneakers and sliding them off your swollen feet. He pulled your socks off, his thumbs instinctively pressing into your arches to offer that deep, soothing pressure."The swelling is already decreasing," he noted, analyzing your ankles. "But you require hydration and horizontal rest."
He stood up, pulling the heavy, fifteen-pound grey weighted blanket back. "Get in."
You didn't need to be told twice. You slid under the sheets, groaning in absolute bliss as the familiar, heavy weight of the blanket settled over your exhausted body. It was like sinking into a cloud of pure safetyJake didn't immediately join you. He went into the master bathroom, returning a minute later with a large glass of ice water—no, room temperature water, because ice clinked and the cold shocked the system.
He set it on the nightstand, then walked around to his side of the bed.
He stripped off his hoodie, leaving him in his soft, tagless t-shirt, and climbed under the weighted blanket beside you.The moment his body settled against the mattress, the final piece of the algorithm locked into place. He pulled you flush against his side, his heavy arm slinging over your waist, his long legs tangling with yours.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath ghosting over your collarbone.
"The static is entirely gone," Jake whispered, his voice incredibly thick.
"Me too," you murmured, your eyes already drifting shut, anchored by his heavy, beautiful weight. "I love you, Jake."
"I love you, Y/N," he replied, his hand resting flat against your stomach, which was now soft and empty. "And I love Arthur. The variables are perfect."
The house was completely silent. The temperature was exactly 69 degrees. Down the hall, the anomaly slept peacefully in his mathematically sound crib. And in the quiet dark of the bedroom, Jake Sim finally allowed his hyper-vigilant processor to power down. He had built the perimeter. He had survived the noise. And as he held you in the safety of the beige house, he knew with absolute certainty that no matter how loud the world outside got, he would always be the wall that kept you safe.
The first few weeks of parenthood were exactly what Jake had calculated they would be: a massive, systemic disruption of their previous baseline. Sleep was fragmented into two-hour intervals. The laundry machine ran almost constantly, cycling through organic cotton burp cloths and tagless onesies. The pristine quiet of the beige two-story house was frequently punctuated by the sharp, demanding cries of a newborn who had not yet learned how to exist in a world with gravity and cold air.
But miraculously, the system didn't crash.Jake had adapted with the fierce, hyper-focused dedication he usually reserved for three-thousand-piece architectural models. He had built a schedule so airtight it left no room for the paralyzing anxiety of the unknown. He tracked Arthur’s ounces of milk intake on his iPad spreadsheet. He mapped out the exact times to dim the smart bulbs to promote melatonin production. He became an absolute master of the swaddle, folding the organic receiving blankets around Arthur with the precise tension required to simulate the deep pressure of the womb.It was exactly 3:14 AM on a Tuesday, roughly three weeks after you had brought Arthur home. You woke up with a slow, heavy blink, the phantom echo of a baby’s cry pulling you out of a deep sleep. You reached your hand out instinctively across the mattress.Your fingers met cool, empty sheets.You pushed yourself up, the heavy grey weighted blanket sliding off your shoulders. The house was utterly silent. The ambient temperature was locked at 69 degrees.
You slid your feet into your quiet, rubber-soled slippers and walked softly out of the master bedroom, the acoustic dampening of the hallway absorbing the sound of your steps.A soft, warm amber glow was spilling out from the open doorway of the nursery.
You didn't walk in right away. You stopped just behind the doorframe, peeking into the room.The scene inside made your breath catch in your throat.Jake was sitting in the wide, upholstered rocking chair in the corner of the room. He wasn't wearing his noise-canceling headphones. He was dressed in his soft, worn-in navy hoodie, the hood pushed down, his fluffy dark curls sleep-mussed and sticking up in every direction.Arthur was fully awake, resting against Jake’s chest, swaddled perfectly into a tight, dark blue burrito. The baby’s large, dark eyes—an exact mirror of his father’s—were wide open, staring up at Jake’s face in the dim light.
Jake was rocking the chair. Forward, two, three. Back, two, three. The momentum was perfectly calculated.He was talking to his son. His voice was pitched to that low, resonant baritone, a steady, vibrating hum that you knew provided Arthur with immense tactile comfort."The light you are currently observing is a wavelength of approximately 590 nanometers," Jake was whispering, his long, elegant fingers gently stroking the soft peach fuzz on the top of Arthur's head. "It is the color amber. It is statistically proven to be the least disruptive to your circadian rhythm. That means it is safe for your eyes."
Arthur let out a tiny, soft coo, a bubble of spit forming on his lips.
Jake’s expression softened into a look of such absolute, unvarnished adoration that it made your heart physically ache. He didn't pull a tissue. He just used the soft sleeve Pof his hoodie to gently wipe the baby's chin. "You are experiencing rapid neurological growth," Jake continued, his tone factual but completely laced with wonder. "Every time you blink, your synapses are forming new pathways. It must be very overwhelming. The data input is massive. But you do not need to process it all at once, Arthur. I have optimized the perimeter."Jake leaned his head back against the chair, keeping the baby securely anchored to his chest."When I was your age," Jake murmured, his voice growing incredibly quiet, "the world was very loud. The lights were too sharp. The tags on my clothes felt like sandpaper. My processor did not know how to filter the noise. I was very afraid, very often."You leaned your shoulder against the doorframe, tears pricking your eyes. You had never heard him talk about his infancy this way."But you will not have to be afraid," Jake promised his son, his hand flattening against Arthur’s tiny back, providing that essential deep pressure. "I have audited the textiles. I have sealed the windows. And when the variables become too unpredictable, I will be the wall. Just as your mother is the wall for me. You are fifty percent her, which means you are structurally flawless."
Arthur blinked slowly, his heavy eyelids finally beginning to droop under the soothing cadence of his father’s voice and the rhythmic math of the rocking chair.
"You are my favorite anomaly," Jake whispered, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the baby's forehead. "Now, initiate sleep mode. The environment is stable."
You stepped into the room, unable to stay hidden any longer.
"You're amazing with him," you whispered, walking over to the rocking chair.
Jake looked up, his dark eyes instantly finding yours. The hyper-vigilant tension he carried in the outside world was entirely absent. Here, in the amber light, holding his son, he just looked like a man perfectly at peace."His distress vocalizations woke me at exactly 3:02 AM," Jake reported softly, not stopping the rocking motion. "He required a diaper change and an additional two ounces of formula. He is now entering the final stages of the sleep cycle. You did not need to break your REM sleep, Y/N. The sequence was under control."
"I know it was," you smiled, reaching out to run your fingers through Jake's messy curls. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his warm cheek. "I just woke up and missed my permanent variable. Both of them."Jake hummed, a deep sound of profound satisfaction, and leaned his face against your stomach as you stood beside him. "The volume of my love for you is mathematically incalculable," he murmured into your shirt.
"I love you too, Jakey," you whispered, watching Arthur's eyes flutter entirely shut. "Let's put him down and go back to sleep. We have a lot of variables to conquer tomorrow."
Two Years Later
"Dada! Bwock!"
The joyful, demanding shout echoed through the sunlit living room of the house.
It was a Saturday morning. The world outside had thawed into a beautiful, vibrant spring, but inside, the climate control was, as always, locked at a comfortable 69 degrees.You were standing at the kitchen island, a mug of hot coffee in your hands, watching the scene unfolding on the plush living room rug with a heart so full it felt like it might burst.Arthur was now two years old.
He was a whirlwind of kinetic energy, a miniature clone of his father with the same fluffy, dark curls and enormous brown eyes. But unlike Jake’s historically cautious approach to the world, Arthur attacked his environment with fearless enthusiasm, entirely confident that his parents had made the world perfectly safe for him to explore.Jake was sitting cross-legged on the floor.He was wearing his favorite vintage Spider-Man pajama set—the soft, tagless ones with the flat seams. Sitting exactly opposite him, mirroring his posture with striking accuracy, was Arthur, wearing an exact, miniature replica of the same tagless Spider-Man pajamas. Between them sat a massive plastic bin of vibrant, primary-colored LEGO Duplo blocks.
Jake had originally planned to introduce standard LEGO sets when Arthur's fine motor skills developed, but he quickly realized that the larger, safer Duplo blocks were mathematically perfect for a toddler's grip. "Bwock, Dada!" Arthur demanded again, slapping his small, chubby hand against the carpet.Jake picked up a bright red 2x4 Duplo brick. He didn't just hand it to his son; he held it up, examining it with the same intense, analytical focus he used for his architectural commissions.
"This is a fundamental structural component," Jake explained to the two-year-old, his tone perfectly serious and respectful. He never used 'baby talk'. He spoke to Arthur as if he were a colleague. "The clutch power of the interlocking tubes underneath will allow us to build a stable foundation. You must align the studs precisely."
He handed the red block to Arthur.Arthur grabbed it with both hands. He picked up a blue block from the carpet and, with a look of intense concentration that mirrored Jake’s exactly, mashed the two blocks together.
Click.
"I did it!" Arthur cheered, throwing his hands in the air."Your spatial awareness is developing flawlessly," Jake praised, a massive, brilliant smile breaking across his face. He leaned forward and ruffled Arthur's dark curls. "You have achieved a successful connection. Now, we must reinforce the lateral stability." You took a sip of your coffee, leaning against the counter. Watching Jake as a father was the greatest privilege of your life. All the fears he had harbored during your pregnancy—that his sensory limitations would make him inadequate, that he wouldn't be able to handle the noise of a child—had been completely dismantled. He hadn't stopped being autistic. The world outside the house was still too loud, the grocery store still required noise-canceling headphones, and unexpected changes to his schedule still caused his anxiety to spike. But with Arthur, Jake had rewritten his own algorithm.
If Arthur cried loudly because he scraped his knee, Jake didn't cover his ears. He immediately recognized the sound as 'distress data' rather than 'chaotic noise', and his protective instinct completely overrode his sensory defenses. He would scoop Arthur up, apply the deep pressure his son loved, and calmly assess the "malfunction."
He was the most patient, attentive, and deeply affectionate father you had ever seen. He was, in every sense of the word, a puppy husband—utterly devoted, deeply loving, and profoundly safe. "Mama! Look!" Arthur shrieked, spotting you in the kitchen. He scrambled to his feet, abandoning his Duplo tower, and ran across the living room on his sturdy little legs. "I see it, my brave little spider!" you laughed, putting your coffee down just in time to catch him as he crashed into your knees. You scooped him up, settling his warm, solid weight onto your hip. You pressed a loud, exaggerated kiss to his cheek, making him giggle uncontrollably. Jake stood up from the carpet. He uncrossed his long legs with fluid grace and walked over to the kitchen island, his eyes locked onto the two of you. He stepped directly into your space, wrapping his long arms around both you and Arthur, pulling his entire family into a massive, encompassing hug. He pressed his face against the side of your head, inhaling your scent, then leaned down to bump his nose affectionately against Arthur’s. "The tower is incomplete," Jake informed his son, his eyes crinkling with warmth. "But Mama required morning compression. We will resume the construction sequence in approximately five minutes."
"Okay, Dada," Arthur chirped, resting his head on your shoulder and immediately beginning to play with the zipper of your cardigan. You looked up at Jake, running your free hand up his chest to rest flat against his heart. It was beating in a slow, steady, perfect rhythm. "Are you happy, Spidey?" you asked softly, the morning sun catching the lapis lazuli in his wedding band as he held you.
Jake didn't need to run an internal diagnostic to answer the question. The data was glaringly obvious.He looked around the house. He looked at the Duplo blocks scattered on the rug. He looked at the acoustic panels on the walls that kept the world at bay. And then, he looked at you—the woman who had walked into his life three years ago with a crooked diploma and a willingness to understand the math of his mind."Before you arrived, my brain was filled with static," Jake said, his voice dropping into that deep, resonant octave reserved only for you. "I spent all my energy building walls to keep the unpredictable variables out."
He lifted his hand, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch feather-light and incredibly tender."But you did not break my walls," he continued, his dark brown eyes shining with absolute, unfiltered devotion. "You walked inside them. You helped me reinforce the foundation. And then, we built Arthur."
He looked at the toddler currently trying to put your zipper in his mouth, pulling it gently away.
"I am not just happy, Y/N," Jake stated, leaning down until his forehead rested flush against yours. "The static isn't entirely gone but it feels like it is. The variables are perfect. My life is... it is no longer an equation to be solved. It is a masterpiece."
You smiled, leaning up to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. He kissed you back immediately, a deep, grounding pressure that anchored you to the earth. "Ew! Kisses!" Arthur protested loudly, squirming against your hip. Jake pulled back, a genuine, hearty laugh escaping his chest—a sound that still felt like a victory every time you heard it. He reached out and scooped Arthur out of your arms, tossing the squealing toddler slightly in the air before settling him securely against his chest.
"Kisses are highly optimal for maintaining the parental bond, Arthur," Jake informed his giggling son, turning back toward the living room rug. "Now, we must finish the tower. The structural integrity depends on us."
You stood in the kitchen, picking your coffee mug back up, and watched your two Spider-Men sit back down on the carpet. Jake picked up a blue piece of plastic. It wasn't a Duplo block. It was the translucent blue, polycarbonite "power blast" web piece that he had given you on that rainy afternoon three years ago. The one you still kept in the ceramic bowl on the counter.
He held it up for Arthur to see. "This," Jake told his son, his voice thick with meaning, "is a web. It connects things. It holds things together when they are falling." He looked over his shoulder, catching your eye across the room, and flashed you a smile so bright it outshined the morning sun. "And it never breaks."
You took a sip of your coffee, the warmth spreading through your chest, settling deep in your bones. The diploma was still hanging in your office at the community center. You had plenty of real-world experience now. But your greatest achievement wasn't a file folder or a caseload.
It was right here. In this perfectly controlled, 69-degree sanctuary, watching the man who had once been terrified of the world teach his son how to build a beautiful, indestructible life, one plastic brick at a time.
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˚₊· When her best friend finds out she’s an anal slut…
ೀ⋆｡˚ CW—: NSFW, no genuinely please be careful reading this because I wrote this in rebellion to the lack of non vanilla Enhypen smut, fem!reader, mentions of drinking and alcohol, ur both in college, non!idol au, best friends to lovers, cursing, tension, bickering, teasing, kissing, smut, refers to ur p✩ssy as ‘she’ and ‘her’, f♪ngering, hair pulling, an✩l, spanking, p✩ssy spanking, dirty talk, praise, degradation, teaspoon of humiliation, drooling, this entire thing gets wet and messy tbh, begging, dom! leaning Riki, he’s a cheeky asshat about it though, biting, an✿l play, hick♪es, making out, he’s kinda feral, but it’s not his fault he’s just a bit obsessed, hand k♪nk, finger sucking, thigh-job, dirty talk seriously😭, he respects women you two are just freaked out, with that being said— cl♪t bullying, he literally fucks the lashes off you, possible size ki♪nk, multiple ✿rgasms, squ♪rting, one of which happens an✿lly, u like butt stuff and he likes ur butt, petnames, Heeseung dada cameo, hand kisses, cuddling and casual confessions, aftercare, FLUFF at the end
₊·—̳͟͞͞ ꒰ঌᰔᩚ໒꒱— Pairings— A Chrome Hearts boy and his high maintenance best friend that looks like the song “Love Potions”.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚wc. 6.7k (sorry)
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ A/N>>> Please read the tags carefully. English is not my first language. So sorry if this is bad and if there’s any mistakes. Also, this was HELL to edit so any hate and ur fav will be next 😾
“Bullshit! You’re lying!” You gasp, leaning up off Riki just enough to smack his arm, your lips parted in a buzzed smile.
“Swear on Jay’s life I’m not! And any guy that tells you otherwise is lying!”
After hell week of classes, this is just what you needed. Fruity drinks, ridiculous conversation, and much missed downtime as music plays loudly in the background while your other friends drift about just as (if not more) plastered than you.
It wasn’t necessarily rare for you to be at parties but it was for Riki as he was always the more introverted one in your friendship. Not like anyone would be able to point that out as fact right now if they payed attention to you two tucked away on the couch as he passionately pleads his case.
Usually instead of drinking out, he’d rather drink in. It was simpler that way. Nobody trying too hard, nobody misconstruing everything and anything he’d say— just you, his interests and his peace. How you managed to drag him out with you tonight is a mystery that will remain unsolved.
The smell of his cologne and one too many shots permeates the warm air and the faith you have in your dress is nothing short of astounding as you fold one of your legs under you, the other resting on top of Riki’s foot while he finishes your drink for you— scrunching his nose before smacking his lips.
“Too sweet.” You stick your tongue out at him before swiping his drink— downing the bitter liquid out of spite.
To others, you both probably come off as more than what you are because of how close you are. Touchy enough to raise more than a few eyebrows. You aren’t though and you two never have been , it’s just how things have always been— it’s the way you’ve always been.
Close.
You both learned to ignore the stupid questions and side eyes from a society that just didn’t understand. Assumptions that because you’re both hot and tall and are basically always together that you must be fooling around.
You weren’t.
Comfort plus proximity shouldn’t be demanded to equal sex.
Cutting Riki off with a dramatic groan, you stand by your own argument.
“I’m saying guys who don’t have one exist! And that style is completely valid.” Scoffing, he doesn’t say anything for a few beats, content with massaging your leg hes pulled into his lap. Your head starts to swim as you lean back against the couch.
You’re not giving a second thought to the warm rings on his fingers wrapped around your calf, Riki’s thumb stroking your ankle absentmindedly. So used to his touch that you don’t even flinch. He’s never given you reason to. Just when you think you should’ve ate more before drinking so much, he asks— low voice full of curiosity and something that could be dangerous; plump lips tilted in a lazy grin.
“Then do you have one?”
“Huh?”
Riki laughs, jerking his chin up at you. “You heard me. Do you have one? A thing.”
In the long course of your friendship, you’ve talked about everything. Anything. Even the nothing in between but this was uncharted territory. It was also fun. The sudden intensity has your nerves going haywire— making you almost giddy as another drunken giggle spills out of you.
“Why do you wanna know?” Riki shrugs.
“Following your logic so humor me.” You roll your eyes as if contemplating before shaking your head at him, barely holding back a smile at the way he honest to god pouts.
“Come on! Pleaaasee? I’ll be your best friend?” You snort at that and the sound widens the grin on Riki’s lips, hands moving more incessantly as he whines and whines until you give in.
Motioning him closer with pretty nails that he paid for, he comes. Breathing in the sugar of your perfume as blown eyes stare into his lidded ones. The sound of partying around you has you dropping your voice to a conspiring whisper against his parted lips with how close to you he is.
He’s pretty. You think not for the first time but anyone with eyes can tell that Riki Nishimura is objectively gorgeous.
“Promise not to tell anyone?”
Still, nothing more than platonic interest as he nods, face flushed from the alcohol, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he whispers back,
“Yeah. ‘S our secret.”
Taking a deep breath that’s more his air than your own, you tell him.
“I’ve always thought anal was hot.”
Your smile is way too bright for what just came out of your mouth and more importantly, you two shouldn’t even be having this conversation as hammered as you are and yet—
Riki chokes, brows raising higher by the second. Jaw dropped like he can’t believe it once what you said truly registers. Looking you over one more time and he realizes he definitely can. “You ever done it before?” You shake your head no as the playful atmosphere shifts.
Heated but not quite on fire.
“Then what do you like so much about it if you’ve never done it?” His focus is completely zeroed in on you and it’s intense. Shifting to feign some sort of normalcy, you reach up to play with his hair.
“I mean I’ve done— have toys and stuff but I guess I just like the completely taken-ness of it? Of someone fucking both of my holes because they own both of my holes and—“,
“Because you’re a slut and you’d let them?” The low rasp is whispered directly in your mouth and the sharpness of the jab short circuits you. Riki’s called you names before and you never minded but the way he was doing it now made you want.
Earliers warmth begins to simmer low in your stomach, temperature rising. Still, you beam back at him, shameless as ever as you bat pretty lashes.
“Exactly. You know me so well.” Burying his face into your neck, he growls in your ear— rough and primal and you gasp; holding his shirt that much tighter. Moving to look into your eyes again, this time it’s there.
Neither of you say anything.
Riki’s head is still reeling from inebriation and the image of you fucking your asshole with toys you bought and never told him about while you’re fighting unconsciousness with wet panties and a content smile when—
“Yo, Niki!”
Turning his head, his friend James walks in the room. He notices the position you’re in but doesn’t say anything because he’s long since come to terms with the fact that you two aren’t like that. To him it’s unbelievable because if he had a pretty girl best friend with great style and an even better ass, he’d be all over that but to each their own.
“We’re about to go get into a couple rounds of flip over, wanna be on my team?”
Riki breaks into a grin. “I’m there, hold on”, he turns to you; kissing both your cheeks until you whine in tired irritation, pushing his face away.
“There she is— where’s your phone?” You’re ready to pass out or pee but you’re nice enough to reach inside your dress and hand him your cell before you do. Typing in your password, he sends a quick text to your other close friend Esther telling her to come pick you up because you’re clearly done for the night.
Meanwhile, his other friend Heeseung has also come to see what the hold up is as Riki helps you to your feet.
“Hey— I’m gonna go play a few games with the guys but Esther is on her way to come pick you up. Be good, okay baby?” You pout, clearly displeased by the very one sided choices made.
“I’m leaving?” Riki puffs out an amused laugh.
“Yes, I’d take you home but I’ve been drinking too so it’s not safe.” Another huff, this time you push your hair back too, lashes fluttering sweetly as you whine out,
“But I haven’t even been fucked yet.” James head snaps up, jaw dropped at the same time Riki’s eyes widen but Heeseung is quicker than the both of them, moving to you with his lips curved in an entirely too tempting smile.
“I could definitely do that for you if you’d like baby—“,
“Hmm! And that’s enough”, Riki cuts in and has you over his shoulder in record time. Sending a look to Heeseung that says ‘don’t push it’.
“Life already has her covered in that department— slow music and everything but thanks.” Walking out of the room, you wave bye to Heeseung. Wasted, tits threatening to come out any second and missing an earring while your dress has ridden up to the point where your bare ass cheek is on Riki’s jaw and Heeseung?
He waves back.
A couple minutes later Esther is there to get you, you go home while Riki stays and your earlier moment is forgotten as a fireball induced episode.
Weeks go by.
You two still hang out, you still go shopping, Esther still tells you you can ditch him at any time to bump coochies eternally with her but Riki still hasn’t forgotten what you told him that night you were so drunk that you swore you were 30 feet tall. The way you looked, the way you smelled— glossy lips parted in a devastating smile as you whispered,
“I’ve always thought anal was hot.”
Sends blood to his dick every time. It’s like your voice haunts him along with that short strapless dress and the soft plumpness of your ass when you were hoisted over his shoulder. Hes reluctant to admit that he did not like Heeseung or anyone hitting on you for that matter. Which is strange because you’ve told him about your hookups before and he’s mentioned a few of his own but he’s never seen you in that way so why?
He thinks he’s subtle trying to figure it out but he’s not.
In other words, you notice.
Riki has always had a staring problem but these days it’s become a chronic condition of his. Not just the staring but the touching.
He’s always touched you, but now he touches you like he’s looking for something, large hands constantly feeling over you. Palming your thighs, waist, neck, shoulders, hips and even your ass before smoothing up your back.
Stepping back a bit so you can look at him, the silent pressure baring down on you from the weight of his stare is unnerving.
“Niki”, you swallow down your nerves, “Is everything okay?”
You two just got back to his place from the mall, there was a new drop he wanted to get and you needed a place to show off your newest heart-shaped heels. And it had been nice but something just felt stilted.
You don’t know it but looking into your eyes, all he can picture is you on all fours playing with both your holes as you writhe dazed and needy trying to cum.
He’s touching you again, standing so close he can count the glitters scattered on your skin from your perfume. Wordlessly, he pulls you back into the hug, face buried in your throat. You shiver when he inhales, warm breath tickling you as you cautiously return the embrace. He’s touchy but he’s normally not so…clingy. Maybe something happened that he’s not ready to talk about? Or maybe it’s just been a rough wee—
“I like this top.” He mumbles, fingers brushing the hem of your arguably indecent shirt. That was just your style though. Where he was baggy, you were skimpy.
“Thanks—“,
“Like the skirt too. Where’d we get it?”
“Ed Hardy.”
“Mmm…”
Now, you’re worried.
“Okay— what’s up?” Moving back again, you’re quick to put out your hand to keep the distance when he tries to move in again.
“What are you talking about?” He’s immediately defensive. You huff.
“I mean what’s with you?” Riki stays quiet so you persist. “You’ve been so… I don’t know— weird lately. Like there’s something you’re holding back and I know”, you keep going but louder when he opens his mouth to speak, “I know I’m a lot of things but I am not dumb.”
He calls your name but you’re so fed up you’re shaking. You know that he knows how much you hate being purposefully kept in the dark.
“What is it you aren’t telling me?” Your faces crumples when he stays silent, shaking his head.
“Do you not want to be friends with me anym—“,
“No!” You jump at his sudden volume, some of the hurt easing off your face and you let him pull you in again, dropping his head on your shoulder. Overly aware of the way he can’t seem to keep off of you.
He breathes out something like a tired laugh, low and raw with hunger.
“Baby.”
Your breath hitches.
“Do you really not remember?” Goosebumps break out along your arms when you feel him nose up your jaw to your ear, kissing it with all the slow heat of a starved hellhound finally allowed to eat. Your voice comes out shaky, nothing like yourself as your heart pounds wildly.
“R-remember wh—“,
“Exactly.” What little bit of your bearings you were trying to gather scatter again when you feel tongue, sloppy and hot lapping at your throat before plump lips suck at your jaw.
“And here it’s all I’ve been able to think about.”
It’s like being struck by lightning, how fast arousal burns through you. Igniting every nerve with a wicked heat. You squirm, trying to fight the way you’re actively melting against your best friend of all people. Riki groans when you say his name. A breathy, confused little thing that has him chubbing up in his pants.
“That night”, he pauses to breathe you in again. Moving like he’s drunk— he’s all over you, “At Suihiro’s party”, you admittedly remember close to nothing about that night but wait for him to continue.
“You told me you like getting your ass fucked.”
Your central system drops. Malfunctions more like.
“I— t-that’s—“, words scramble and fall apart on your tongue. So much was happening. This is your best friend. Why does he know about one of your more taboo fantasies? You’ve talked about sex but for the most part kept it brief.
This shouldn’t be happening but it is.
You shouldn’t be letting it but you are.
Nothing’s changed right?
He’s the same best friend that’s seen you wax your stomach and free-bleed when you were at the end of your rope during your period. You’ve seen him snot cry over his first kiss accidentally being a guy instead of the girl he was nuts about when you were in 8th grade.
You were the first to defend him in anything. The first to include him when he was excluded and the only to stand by him when he’d get exiled as the quiet weird kid until he developed and got hot. Then suddenly all his imperfections were chic.
You were there for each other through it all.
“It’s okay”, he purrs, hands greedily kneading your waist before smoothing up your sides, thumbs caressing just below your breasts.
“I’m not making fun of you— I think it’s hot too.”
More wet kisses rain down on any skin he can reach, mouth open and ravenous when he slots it against yours. It’s filthy, your tongues sliding and curling around each other while you hang onto him like your life depends on him.
Riki’s lips feel so good on yours it leaves you breathless. Ridiculously plush lips pull and suck at yours and the pleading moan you sigh into his mouth drives him off the edge of reason. He needs to have you.
One hand leaves your waist to grab the hair at the back of your head, holding you harder to his mouth as he moves his head to deepen the kiss, sucking on your tongue until you feel it in your clit and distantly it dawns on you.
You’re wet.
“Niki…”, you breathe. Barely more than a whimper but the pure need in it has him sliding off your lips with a harsh suck.
Panting against his mouth, he rests his forehead against yours, swallowing your taste as he breathes in another lungful of you. The fingers wound in your hair tighten, making you bare your throat and the even the sting feels good.
“Fuck, don’t say my name like that”, starving eyes take in the picture you make. Eyeliner starting to smudge because of your teary eyes, lip color smudged to all hell on your kiss-swollen lips, stiff nipples poking through your shirt.
“You’re so fuckin’ sexy”, surging to your mouth again, Riki kisses you until the breath you inhale— he exhales. He kisses you with the encompassing desperation of the voice screaming in his head mine, mine, mine.
“Thought about you for weeks”, he confesses. “Please,”, kissing his way back down your throat, teeth grazing your pulse, holding his tongue flush to it long enough to feel every quickened beat. He’s never been this out of his mind and he can’t seem to stop and what’s worse?
You don’t want him to.
“I want to sooo bad— but only if you want to-“, you cup his face to slow him down a little, ground him even though yes, you do want to but it’s affection. Affection from you. Don’t you know what that does to him? Picking you up, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist.
Your eyes widen when you feel how hard he is but Riki doesn’t pay it any mind, too busy sucking countless bruises into your neck. Moaning high and needy when his full lips brush over that spot that makes you shiver.
“Niki…” you start but in all honesty you don’t know where to. You can’t believe you missed the budding attraction between you two. How one little spark could turn into a house fire.
“Yeah, pretty? M’here.”
And he wasn’t making things easier for you.
“You’re— hard…”, voice trailing off almost shyly but to him it’s cute. You’re normally so bold, cheeky and now? Raising his head level to yours he smiles like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Of course I’m hard— been hard for weeks. Ever since you told me that you like to fuck yourself, toys and all in—“, another slot of heat slams through you so strongly it makes you gasp, slapping a palm over his mouth before he can finish.
“Riki Nishimura!”
The smug look doesn’t go away as you slowly move your hand, silently daring him to run his mouth one more time. He doesn’t have to, you do it for him when that last bit catches up.
“Wait, I told you about the toys?” He shouldn’t revel in your obvious embarrassment so much but your reactions were so, so good. Instead, he simply nods, going back to smooching slow, heated kisses up your jaw.
“And the worst part is you don’t even need ‘em”,
“I’ll fuck you wherever you want, baby.” His voice is coated with honey, sweet enough to make you dissolve into him like a sugar cube in tea. Shifting you in his hold, he grinds against your pussy. The wet fabric clings deliciously to your clit, a perfect friction that has you keening needily into his mouth.
“Jus’ gotta let me…”, Riki drags your bottom lip out with his teeth before letting go, kissing it when it pops back into place and blood roars in your ears. Then, you’re nodding. Handing over your willing and eager consent to the one person you thought you’d never get with.
Faster than you can keep track of, you’re thrown over a shoulder and then on top of a bed.
Riki moves fast.
Clothes fly.
First his, then yours. You can’t help the way you stare— from his pretty face down the toned contours of his body and the tattoo he wound up getting of your lips one night when a friend of yours asked if you two were dating.
“She’s my best friend, no we’re not a couple.” When he got asked why not, you simply bent down, lifted Riki’s shirt and pressed your lips tight against the flat of his pelvis. Winking at him when you were done, you pranced off with the next dummy that wouldn’t last a week with you.
His friend was stunned but Riki was all too used to it.
“Too busy being a sex symbol.” Shooting him a sleazy grin, he points to your fresh lipstick. “See?”
Your eyes trail lower to the concerningly large bulge; whining low in your throat when you imagine it inside you. Pulling Riki to your lips he’s practically falling over to kiss you. Lips move firm against each other, fruity smelling breath coasts across his mouth in hot puffs making him groan.
He’s so hard.
The low sound rouses something inside you as you lick across the seam of his mouth, taking his bottom lip in your own mouth; sucking before pulling away with a wet moan— looking up at the remnants of Riki’s sanity with hazy ‘fuck me’ eyes.
Oh it’s like that?
Wordlessly, Riki flips you onto your stomach, ignoring your indignant huffs as he arches your back nice and high— ass perfectly displayed. The sight makes him groan, brows furrowed in restraint. Your cunt looks good enough to eat, darkened fabric hugging your pussy lips because of how soaked you are.
“Damn, look at her— so sloppy f’me…”
Your breath stutters so hard you choke, cunt clenching around nothing when you feel him drag your underwear down your trembling thighs. Partially because of nerves and because you know any moment now, he’ll see it. And he does.
Right when he deepens your arch, hips tilting when he catches a glimpse of it.
There, above your sopping wet pussy is your other hole and snug inside is a crystal clear plug. Your hole is stretched around it, giving your asshole the prettiest fucking gape but what really gets him is the sound you make when he tugs it juuust a little.
Riki freezes, cock twitching almost violently.
Slick drips steadily out of you now, making a mess on his sheets when he does it again, feeling the way your hole grips the intrusion.
“You really are a little anal slut”, squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head no against the pillows but the proof is right in front of him.
Cooing, Riki cracks a heavy hand down on your ass and you jerk— bleating out a sharp cry as he does it again to your opposite cheek. The pain feels so good. Your watery eyes glaze over while your swollen pussy leaks.
“No? Then why is she so wet, baby?” You don’t have an answer and you both know why.
“Has this been in the entire time?” It’s too embarrassing to say. Makes you feel called out, exposed— like a pervert but you don’t wanna stop.
Riki keeps you spread and arched for him as he brings his hand lower, flicking your clit with a sudden brutal kind of precision as you scream. You know what you have to do if you want him to ease up but you stay silent until the flicks turn into slaps— sharp, direct and punishing on your poor nub.
The sounds are disgusting.
Sloppy and vulgar and everything that’s been consuming him as he watches you smear your makeup drooling into his pillow. Heat flashes inside you in waves, smashing your sense onto the shores of shameful desperation.
More slaps hail down on your puffy folds when you don’t respond, strings of your wet slick stick to his hand every time he brings it down on you. On one particularly harsh hit, his warm ring catches on your clit nearly sending you into convulsions as you break— voice wrecked and pathetic.
“Mmmph— y-yesss! Fuck me, yess-! s’ been in the whole time”, your voice cracks in a way that sounds nothing like you as you beg. “Please— Niki!”
The hand between your thighs goes from punishing to rewarding, swirling your clit in nasty circles. You’re so wet it’s obscene, audible. Riki presses himself flush to your back, biting the mark he left over your pulse hard enough to make you writhe while your pussy cries all over his hand.
You spread your legs wider when he backs up a bit just to look at you. Asshole stuffed, folds swollen and enflamed after being spanked raw, slick dripping in rivulets because your cunt is still empty as you present yourself for him so prettily.
“Look at you”, his timbre pours over you like warm velvet. “She’s drooling so much— s’like she’s starving.”
His other hand smooths up the soft curve of your ass, tracing the base of your toy before tugging— the first flared ball pops from your rim and the result is instantaneous.
He watches your pussy convulse, spasming tight around nothing at the same time your clit throbs against his fingers as he strums the overstimulated nub faster. The cry that comes out of you is visceral, hardly passable as cute to your own ears but you’re so lost in the depravity of pleasure that how it all looks doesn’t matter.
“Such a messy little slut.”
And shoves it right back in, the force of pressure felt through that gooey spot near your bellybutton and for a second you think he’s killed you.
Your entire body locks before exploding. Eyes rolling back, drool pooling beneath your cheek as white-hot pleasure overtakes you. A wet noise between a moan and a scream belts from your chest before ending in a sob of his name seconds before your pussy starts to gush and he moans with you. Biting his lip at the absolute scene you make.
“Thaaats my good fuckin’ girl…”, he hisses through clenched teeth. “Pissing cum all over me, just what we needed, yeah baby?” Jesus fuck.
You wail. Riki doesn’t stop.
So you keep cumming. Harder than you ever have— hard enough to make your head begin to hurt, legs shaking as you begin to cry in earnest, fat tears streaking your once perfect makeup. Every wracked sob is met with a burning heavy spank. When you try to get away, move up the bed to catch some type of break, large fingers wind around your neck to hold you in place.
“C—“, your voice cracks. “Came already! M’ done!”
Riki hums, as if contemplating the validity of your statement before fucking two fingers in your empty hole with a damningly loud squelch. She immediately tightens, sucking his fingers like it’s exactly what she was crying so much for and he can feel it.
The way she clenches in greedy pulses.
Scoffing out a condescending laugh through his nose, he grinds the heel of his palm on your still throbbing clit.
“No you’re not, not even close but you’re gonna be good for me until I say you are. Okay?”
And you nod. Because you’d let him do whatever he wanted to you and he knows that.
You’d always let him.
Times when you were out together with your friends and you’d get overwhelmed and ask to be alone and when they’d leave he’d stay because he knew you’d let him. The constant in your life.
The constant exception.
You’ve loved him since day one.
You gasp when he twists his fingers inside your sappy walls and his name escapes your lips needy and unbidden. Draping himself over you, he’s there— leaning over to meet you in another wet kiss. Shudders wrack your body as he licks into your mouth, tongue undulating against yours in the nastiest movements and more heat washes over you making you twitch around him as you get wetter.
There’s 3 fingers now, stretching you out something utterly sick. Chest heaving, there’s no time to catch your breath when his thumb is back on your clit— strumming in mean, heady swipes.
You lose it.
Thick, wet trills shred your throat— pressure building until you can’t take it. Riki watches you fall apart again for him, hypnotized by the way your cunt swallows his fingers. His entire hand is covered in you as your breath quickens. Your raw, teary sobs has his cock aching as they take on another pitch entirely. “You— fuck-! ‘S always you!”
Something darker than possessiveness rolls over him at your confession, pupils widening with a frightening kind of hunger when he curls his fingers— knuckling into that gooey spot that turns you to static as you drool.
You were so lovely like this—sweaty and overwhelmed. All for him; pretty face contorted in agonizing bliss as you cum with spread legs in his lap— drenching you both in your juices. Dipping his head, he takes your mouth in another melty kiss, grinding his leaky erection against your ass, groaning when he feels your slick walls pulsate.
“Gonna cum again, sweetness?” Riki purrs lowly against your lips, lapping a hot swipe across the seam of your open mouth.
Stars dance in your eyes as you nod, letting out a weak hiccuping sob of what you hope sounds like confirmation. Heat coils tight and thick in your center— consuming you in its raw bliss. “Words baby, the ones you love mouthing off t’me with.”
Immediately, indignation sears across your face as you shake your head to deny it. Pointless because it’s true. You have a smart mouth— always had a smart smooth and because he’s always around you, he usually catches the worst of it. Riki hums, brow raising in mock belief.
“No? That couldn’t have been you”, he concedes, really fucking into your g-spot now as he fucks your sopping cunt with a vicious precision. “Not when all it takes to get you so sweet and obedient is a stuffed asshole and someone touching your crybaby pussy right?”
Oh god. He’s trying to kill you.
“You’re a good girl as long as you get these greedy holes fucked, yeah?”
“Y-yeah.. ‘m your good girl.”
A clear slot of arousal soaked in satisfaction, settles in his gut before pooling out, leaving him scorching from the inside out.
Thrusting harder, he switches from the heel of his hand to thumb— treating your clit like a fidget toy; moving the plug in tandem, your puffy rim squeezing and stretching. It’s entirely too much, your skin practically vibrating when he starts to batter that spot that has your teary eyes rolling all the way back.
Squirming, your swiftly approaching end is so piercing you don’t know what to do with yourself. Watery babbles pour from your swollen, spit-soaked lips, trying so hard to listen.
Riki hisses as you tighten like a vice, creamy squelching from your pulpy cunt echo in a spine tingling harmony with your moans.
You’re on cloud nine, body one raw nerve from the pleasure but he doesn’t stop. If anything, he goes harder; veiny forearms bulging as he works you stupid. “Just like that, pretty. We needed this sooo bad..” He breathes out, voracious want in his voice and you push out a hoarse cry.
“I know,” his low voice cooes— your toes point and relax as your body is submerged in wave after wave of numbing euphoria; your best friend watching you go brainless in real time.
“Can’t believe you thought I didn’t wanna be friends anymore…”
The idea of him ever leaving you before was ridiculous but especially now. Enamored with the lewd way your stuffed hole stretches around his fingers, clit fat with arousal, the next heavy strums are personal. “I wanna be everything, pretty girl”, you can hardly breathe anymore, mouth open in a choked wail as his thick digits pummel you.
“And you, gorgeous”, leaning over you again, he kisses you feverishly— filling your mouth with tongue as you suck on the wet muscle. Riki growls, letting you get your fill until he pulls away with a wet slop.
“You’re gonna cum for me.”
He slams your plug in to the hilt so he can hold you still; broad hand snapping around your windpipe to hold you to the bed— make you take it while he talks you right off the edge.
Truth is you couldn’t hold it if you tried. The first wave has your stomach caving. Ecstasy— brighter than you’ve ever known it burns a hole straight through your gut as you spin the fuck out.
Convulsing, grunting— the simmering heat boils over you and you cum so hard the sounds coming from you aren’t even human. Raw. Unfiltered. Ugly—as Riki fucks you through it making your empty head spin at the effortless way he holds you down.
“Yeahhh baby”, he husks lowly, “Let her make her slutty mess f’me..”
It’s hell at this point.
Every nerve seems to grow teeth, you feel like you’ve been dunked in lava as he crooks his fingers juuust right into that melty nook; your jaw drops in a silent scream— mind blank as he chokes you out with his thick fingers so deep you erupt.
The sound of your gushing pussy sets his blood alight so wickedly it borders on sickening. You’re too gone to notice as you squirt all over him. Letting go of your throat to bully your clit, the headrush intensifies your sensitivity. Utterly torn wails stream from your mouth when Riki strums the flat of his fingers fast over your pulsating bundle of nerves. “Keep cumming, gorgeous— squirt yourself to a headache f’me.”
You’re shaking, incoherent— countless orgasms bleeding into another as you burst. It’s unending. It’s hedonistic.
He doesn’t care and you don’t either.
He’s suffered wanting you and know he knows you want him too. You don’t know how long of a time you’re in for.
Fingers spread you out as he thrusts away, other hand beating your clit with light spanks. You don’t know if you’re dying or going crazy but it’s addictive— Riki. Your Niki. Indulging you and owning you until you break.
The sobs and cries turn positively shrill when he snatches your plug all the way out. Cursing loud when he watches how your asshole stays open like something’s in it even though she’s empty— used rim twitching as she gapes deliciously.
You’re nothing but a hoarse, broken down sob as you cum again from the continued stimulation— miserably soaking you both in your release as you gush deliriously, finally collapsing boneless on his sheets.
Panting, you try to catch your breath when wet fingers tap your lip. On autopilot, you suck them into your mouth, tongue curling around each one under Riki’s molten gaze.
“That’s it, clean yourself off my fingers like a good fucktoy.”
His rasped words send another twinge to your overstimulated pussy.
You’ve pretty much lost your voice at this point but he still hears when you ask,
“Gonna fuck me now?”
Slow kisses follow down your sweat slick spine, his fat tongue following the sheen and he hums at the taste of you. Before he can answer your hands are on your ass, spreading yourself and letting him get a good look at your sloppy, abused holes.
Riki’s mind goes blank.
You keep talking. Any lingering shyness having left sometime when he had you coming in rotation.
“Y-You,” you choke out, breath coming in short pants, “Every time I’d sit in your lap I-I wondered—what it would be like.” You look into Riki’s eyes, pretty eye makeup ruined, black streaks down your cheeks— even your falsies had come off but damn it all, you’ve never looked lovelier.
“You’re so big, Ki.”
And for the second time since he’s known you, Riki’s mind goes completely blank.
Raising your hips, he eyes the way you clench your thighs. Suddenly remembering something unfortunately important, he holds you still against him— sliding his flushed cock through the tiny hole at the apex of your thighs. Riki drops his head to your shoulder with a pained groan feeling syrupy wetness coat his length. Along with your clit throbbing against him and you whine when he doesn’t move.
“Inside”, you plead but it kills him to tell you—
“I don’t have any condoms on me, baby”.
The way you look back at him, like the waterworks are about to start any moment because you’re not getting the rest of what you want is as endearing as it is heartbreaking.
Rushing to console you, he adds,
“I know we’re both clean but you’re not on the pill either, sweetheart.” Fuck he’s right.
Shoving your face into the pillow with your lashes on it, you scream out a frustrated cry. Still, his hands roam all over your heated body, trying to think through the arousal deepening the red of his very blood to come up with a safe, suitable alternative but he can’t resist.
Rocking his hips through the tight space between your thighs. The hot friction against your clit is heavenly with the soft fat of your warm thighs squeezing his cock— your shaky sigh makes his ears perk up. Running his fingers down your back to your perfect ass, thrusting faster as she slobbers more each time his fat head catches on your engorged clit.
Taking your hand fisting the sheets, he raises it to his lips— kissing the back of it so reverently it makes your heart stutter. He leans down after and kisses you like he loves you because he does. Bossy, shameless and critical, easy when the mood struck you and more understanding than people would ever give you credit for but his. Difficult and teasing in short clothes— but his.
And you were close.
You’re getting close, this time with him. You were already so sensitive and he’s pent up with weeks of you running through his mind naked in every position imaginable. You writhe against him restlessly when he presses his pelvis flush to your ass, glancing below to look at his pretty dick— glistening with pre and you.
Riki goes faster as you throb against each other. Drenched, filthy and wrecked.
“Next time”, he rasps- voice ragged with promise. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”
Fingers brush the entrance of your pussy to your ass, circling more wetness along the rim— Riki moaning at the way you jolt, begging hole winking at him.
You’re a lunatic. You must be. That’s the only excuse you can think of when you use the one good deep breath you’ve been able to catch to say—
“I-I can’t wait”, you swallow. “Want you to ruin both your holes.” He already was going to but you just pushed up the deadline.
“You have no idea, baby. Gonna fuck you so stupid, just how you like.”
Your breath catches in that whiny bleat it does when you’re at your limit— it makes his balls ache when suddenly you’re creaming. The milky white painting his cock like gloss and it fucks him up so badly that he’s cumming right after.
Teeth sinking into your neck, molten cum spurts out in fat chords, thick and heavy and so much— frothy streams that just don’t stop, pumping in sopping grinds that nuzzle your slippery folds and the sensation makes you purr.
“Fuckin’ milking me— damn…”
The aftermath is hot. The lean muscle of Riki’s body, covered in each others release— his big hands steady on your waist to help you fuck yourself through it. The rush of adrenaline leaves your head dizzy, falling flat on your stomach with Riki on top of you.
You don’t mind the weight, in fact you welcome it. Humming with a delighted, thoroughly exhausted sigh. Closing your eyes, you feel him pepper kisses along your shoulders, kissing your cheek with a tenderness you rarely get to witness so earnestly. He was sweet like that.
“I like you. Let me be your boyfriend.”
And demanding.
Sleepily, you shrug— not even trying to hide your grin.
“Sure, I’d love to.” You peek an eye open at the stunned expression on his face.
“Don’t look so surprised, you know I love you.” For someone who was saying the raunchiest shit to your face only minutes ago with no shame whatsoever, now blushing because you just told him you love him back is—
“I know, I love you too just—“, you cut him off with a dramatic gasp.
“Then why’d you say you only like me?”
“I was trying to be nonchalant!” It’s so ridiculously him that you can’t help but beam, flipping over to hug him properly and he holds you just as tight; burying his face in your naked chest.
“Whatever, you’re my girlfriend now— no take backs.” A bubbly laugh shoots out of you as he scoops you up, heading to the bathroom so you can clean up— sighing contently in his arms while you agree.
You pride yourself upon being perfect, whether its your grades, your hair, your outfit, but most of all—your reputation. so what happens when a single bad grade tilts you off that perfect axis? or rather, the boy introduced into your life because of it..
配对 ࿔ . . lee heeseung 𝔁 𝒻!reader
⌗ content warnings: college au , smut , slight angst , nerd! heeseung , he is into gaming-hes also working on his own game , hes obsessed with toy story (as we know) , hes absolutely pathetic , awkward moments , overthinking , reader is prideful and a little manipulative , corruption kink (ish??) , mentions of drinking (smoking in like one scene), jealousy issues , reader can be mean sometimes , heeseung is a sweetheart but a little gullible ✧ inexperienced hee , hand jobs , big dick hee (nerds are packing) , kinda sub hee , lowkey bulge kink , unprotected sex, pussy eating , face sitting (we’re bringing the freak out) , fingering , overstimulation , heeseung can stay hard after cumming multiple times , featuring: hyung line, sunoo, yunjin , let me know if i missed anything !
⌗ word count: 28.7k (yeah…)
Lee Heeseung was a nerd.
He wasn't unattractive by any means, just…overlooked. Didn't even fully grow into his features until his Senior year of high school. But before that, he was a full on loser, still is honestly.
He was the type of guy who stayed up until 3am coding just because he felt like it. Who had a specific shelf just for Marvel comics, and a separate one for DC, along with an area specifically for his character figure collection. All lined up in his room of the apartment he shared with his bestfriend, Jake–who also shared similar interests, except he tends to be more..normal about it.
You on the other hand were the complete opposite. Gorgeous, like actually striking. You were popular, at least according to Heeseung you had a “shit ton of friends” he doesn't even know how you remember the names of that many people.
But the first time Heeseung met you was the first day of classes in fall semester, Econ to be exact. Your low rise jeans paired with a fitted long sleeve. Hair styled perfectly, yet you made it seem effortless. You tend to do that actually, act completely normal without knowing how much of an effect you have on the people around you.
He had both of his earbuds in, like always–scrolling mindlessly through a twitter thread that was debating on whether League of Legends was a good game or not, spoiler alert it is. Anyone else who differs can argue with the wall.
“Is anyone sitting here?” You had asked, when he didn't answer the first time you tapped his shoulder once. He remembers the moment his eyes landed on your face vividly, because fuck–you were pretty.
“Is anyone sitting here?” You repeat, already half annoyed with the fact that this was one of the three seats left in the lecture hall, and you weren't sitting in the front. He looks down at the seat next to him, “Oh no– I mean yes, well not anymore– so no, You can sit, not like I'm forcing you or anything. But uh, it's not taken.”
You nod slowly “Um, Okay..” Before sitting down, your light pink bag hanging from your chair. He now has both of his earbuds out, phone clutched in his hand– because no way was he letting you see that he scrolls through twitter threads for fun.
You look over at him, the way he's sitting up perfectly in his chair, fingers twisting the wire of his earbuds. “Do you always do that?” You ask, eyes trailing along the side of his face. Observing the slope of his nose. “Do..what?” He asks, thankful his voice didn't crack.
“Talk like your brain is still loading.” He lets out a laugh, “Pretty much everyday.” He says, watching your face for a reaction. You smile, it's small–but he notices it.
He lets out a breath when the professor enters, half relieved, but also half annoyed that he can’t delve deeper into conversation with a pretty girl like you. Even if it is only by convenience.
You don't miss the looks, you never do. His gaze shifting from the professor discussing things from the syllabus, to you–a literal goddess sitting next to him, as he would say.
You caught him once, but he thought he was smooth with the quick way he averted his eyes. After that first class he cursed himself for being so damn obvious– God, you probably think he's some perverted freak. Yet you still sat beside him the next day, and the day after that– actually for the rest of the semester.
You didn't talk to him unless it was necessary, like asking him if he wrote down a slide of notes you missed, or that one time you dropped your pen on the ground just under his chair.
He remembers having to bend down slightly, face nearly in your lap just to pick it up. Forcing himself not to look at your bare legs before handing it back to you.
Your casual smile and “Thanks” before acting completely normal again, like you didn't just make his insides to a full 360 from just a smile– no teeth either!
When that class ended just before winter break, he couldn't help how disappointed he was. What do you mean he wouldn't be able to see your face anymore?—or smell your vanilla perfume every time you shifted in your seat!
He remembers Jakes roll of his eyes having to hear him talk about what a tragedy it was. “Dude– it's not like you won’t see her again, remember you still go to the same university?” Yeah you attend the same school, but the closest he ever got to you was sitting next to you in that class. Other than that—you wouldn't even look his way.
“...earth to Heeseung?” Jake's voice cuts through his train of thought, and his line of sight as his eyes stray away from you, laughing and talking with your friends at a table outside. Jake looks back, spotting you through the window of the campus dining haul. “Seriously dude?” Jake sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“What were you saying?” Heeseung asks, taking another bite of his food. “I was saying that I finished episode six of that anime you put me on– man that fight scene was actually crazy, I literally–” He watches Heeseung's eyes stray away from him, landing on you again for like the 10th time in the last 20 minutes.
“Alright there's something seriously wrong with you” Jake says—or more like interrupts. “What? I'm fine.” Heeseung claims defensively, “No– you've been staring in the same direction for the past 20 minutes like a creep. I'm honestly surprised she hasn't felt you looking at her this whole time.” Jake states, “I was not staring at her like a creep–”
“No you definitely were.”
“Whatever dude, it's not like she’d notice anyway.” Heeseung pokes at his food with the plastic fork. “Yeah, she's too busy being Miss. Perfect..” Jake exaggerates. “She really is perfect, isn't she..” Heeseung says, glancing over at you once again.
Little did they know that was far from the truth, yeah you made sure you at least looked good, but your grades were faltering. Specifically in Physics– and especially with your annoying ass professor.
“She literally called on me in the middle of class today, I couldn’t even think of an answer which made me look even more stupid than guessing.” You groan, careful not to wipe at the mascara on your eyes. “That's Professor Kim for you.” Yunjin says, taking one of your fruits from your tray. “It was pretty embarrassing.. But the “It's so obvious” comment from her wasn’t necessary.” Sunoo adds with a face.
“Oh and it gets worse.” You say, looking at the both of them. “You know how she made me stay after class right?” You look at Sunoo who nods, “Yeah, well she full on printed a paper for me to turn into the tutoring center, stating everything I'm struggling with and told me that I was going to need to find help as soon as possible or I was going to fail her class.” You finish in one breath,
“So, you’re going to have to get a tutor then..” Yunjin clarifies warily, looking down at the paper you place on the table.
“Yeah because apparently my performance in her class is "Concerning" and she even said I was lucky to have this opportunity! You know– I would never hit someone but God her face was really slappable in that moment–”
Sunoo interrupts before you can go any further, reading off the list of things “Difficulty with free body diagrams, inconsistent use of formulas, lack of problem-solving structure..Damn, she really has it out for you.” He says, putting the paper down.
“I mean half the time she rambles on like she knows something, and her equations all blend together anyway!” You groan in frustration, both Sunoo and Yunjin looking at each other. “I mean.. Maybe tutoring wouldn't be so bad..” Yunjin suggests, sipping her water. “Just give it a chance, it really can’t hurt y/n.” Sunoo adds, “It hurts my ego, my pride– hell, even my reputation.” You snatch the paper back, shoving it in your bag.
“Not everyone is perfect, including you babe.” Yunjin says, trying to be reassuring. “No, but I need to be.” You frown, standing up. “Where are you going–” Sunoo starts
“Turning in this damn tutoring paper to the library. I need to get this over with, like now–before I change my mind.”
And that's exactly what you did, handing the paper to the woman at the front desk, “You’ll get a message sent when we’ve found your tutor, along with a time and date.” She says, typing on her comically large computer. “Wait, I don't get to choose the day?” You ask, twisting the ring on your finger.
She looks up at that “No, since it's the tutors time you're using.” She says, looking back down– you almost open your mouth to say something like “My time is just as valuable.” But ultimately decide not to, before smiling and walking away.
—
“He’s on me—Fuck!” Heeseung yells into his headset, watching as his video game character dies yet again.
“Jake, dude im literally going to lose my rank–what the fuck man.” He says, ripping off his headset, not wanting to hear the excuses his best friend has to give for playing like shit, even if he is right down the hall.
Heeseung nearly presses the power off button on his monitor before a notification pops up, the loud sound overpowering the faint background music of the video game lobby.
Gmail: Tutoring Lab Information
Fuck— he had forgotten all about that, signing up to tutor for some extra credits. There goes at least a few hours of trying to level up his rank on League.
He runs a hand through his already messy hair before clicking the notification to expand it. Reading through it quickly– “We are aware you’ve gotten a 90 or higher in this class–blah blah blah– good choice okay whatever..” Heeseung stills as his eyes land on the next few words.
Selected Student: Y/n L/n
“No fucking way.” He rubs his eyes once—twice, just to make sure he's not seeing things. Then he laughs, disbelieving, because this has to be a typo, there's no actual way you need tutoring.
He scrolls back up in the email– ah, Professor Kim, Physics. Now that makes sense. He scrolls down again, just to re-read your name plastered in bold on his screen. And better yet, your phone number, right underneath it.
He could fall to his knees right now, seriously–Thanking the universe for this spectacular moment. Almost immediately he picks up his phone, fumbling over the disorganized apps–mostly just games, before finding messages. Typing your number in the add on box, he pauses– how the hell does he even go about this.
“Hey, I know I stared at you all of econ last semester and it was probably totally obvious, oh and also, I still do because it's kind of hard to look away. So now I'm tutoring you–oh and I have a massive crush on you too that makes me feel like a pathetic middle schooler.”
Yeah absolutely not.
You pick up your phone, drying your wet hair with your towel but pause when the notification slides down at the top.
Maybe: Lee Heeseung: Hey, I saw that you needed a tutor for Physics. The tutoring lab assigned me to you, does Thursday at 4:00 work for you?
Great, they weren't kidding about how it's on their schedule. But that name—Lee Heeseung. Where do you know it from.. You open the message, typing out a bland reply.
You: Yeah that's fine.
Lee Heeseung: Great, ill see you there
Heeseung re-reads over the message he sent multiple times, maybe he's over thinking it but you sound upset. It’s just words on a screen and he's no empath, so maybe he's just overthinking right? Haha, right?
“Bro—obviously she’s going to be fucking pissed, she literally prides herself upon being perfect. But honestly if it's Professor Kim and her Physics lessons on top of that, I understand why she needs it.” Jake says, handing Heeseung's phone back to him. “I honestly don't even know how you got a 96 in that class either.” He adds.
“But still, isn’t the universe kind of on my side with this? I mean out of all people– she gets assigned to me.” Heeseung says, looking at the messages one more time. “I dunno’ man, all I have to say is don’t do that weird staring thing.” Jake says, standing up.
“What weird staring thing?” He asks, genuinely confused. “The one where you try to undress someone mentally and physically with your eyes.” Jake states like it's obvious
“I don’t even do that–?” Heeseung says defensively, leaning against his gaming chair. “Yeah alright, just whatever you’re planning, don’t be weird about it.” Jake mutters before walking out of his room, shutting the door behind him.
“I wasn't even going to do anything weird..” Heeseung mumbles under his breath.
-
“Wait—you said Lee Heeseung?” Sunoo asks, leaning over your phone to get a closer look. “Uh– yeah?” you eye him, turning to Yunjin who looks just as confused.
“He’s literally in my Computer science class, and don’t you remember he was in your econ one last semester?” He adds, raising a brow.
“Wait– the guy who stared at her all the time right?” Yunjin sits up straight, “Yeah, the guy with the nice nose.” Sunoo clarifies, watching the realization dawn.
“No—wait no, this isn't good—no, no, no. Because in that class I acted like some know it all, which I mean it was easy but now I'm going to him for tutoring.” You snatch your phone from Sunoo
“He probably thinks im some like—poser!” Sunoo and Yunjin watch you, “Who cares what he thinks—what are you doing?” Yunjin looks down at your phone “I'm cancelling."
“No the fuck you’re not.” Sunoo says, taking your phone back. “You know what will happen to your perfect grades if you fail?” He asks, already knowing the answer. “Exactly, plus this guy is smart as hell, trust me.” He sets your phone back down on the table. “Just go y/n, what's the worst that could happen?” Yunjin adds.
Oh, I don’t know, maybe he’ll mansplain everything to me just like every other guy at this university tries to—or worse, make me feel like a complete and utter idiot.
But yet here you are anyway, denim shorts with a fitted top in all your glory since of course, today decided to be the day the cold weather breaks.
You really could be tanning right now, the smell of sunscreen filling your senses, but instead you’re hit with the scent of dry erase markers and stress.
The library door shuts behind you, a few students scattered around, you make your way up to the second floor where the study sessions are held, so it's not as quiet.
“Oh–hey” he says, looking up at you–maybe trying to stop himself from staring too hard. You shouldn't even be surprised he’s already here, considering he was somehow always earlier than you for Econ last semester.
You look down at the table he's seated at, notebook already open, pencil spinning between his fingers like he can't keep his hands still for more than five seconds. You hesitate for a second before walking over, “You’re early.” You say, looking at him.
“You’re late.” He says, you check the time on your phone. “It’s 3:58..?” You look down at his outfit, some random graphic tee, with jeans.
“And you were always five minutes early for Econ last semester, so it’s late for you.” He states like it's a fact. “Do you just want me to leave?” You cross your arms, annoyed already. “What–no, sorry. I just–hi.” His Adam's apple visibly bobs up and down as the words spill out. “..Hi.”
You set your bag on the table, taking the seat next to him–completely normal for a tutoring session. Obviously you pull out your notebook with your failed attempts in copying down Professor Kim's problems from the board.
He doesn't miss the way you act like you’ve done this before, knowing very well you haven't. Mainly because you’re always too stubborn to ask for help.
He tries to ignore the vanilla smell radiating from you. “So, what are we struggling with then?” You exhale, already done with this. “Pretty much everything according to my professor.” He chuckles and you shoot him a glare.
“Sorry–I'm not laughing at you, it’s just– I know how professor Kim gets so I understand.” He clarifies quickly. “But let's try narrowing it down?” He suggests, “Fine.”
“Okay, show me what you were doing on the last assignment.” You flip your light pink notebook open to the most recent page of what looks like scribbles before facing it towards him. He leans in, shoulder nearly touching yours.
His hair looks soft…..Why are you thinking about his hair.
He scans the page from top to bottom, really looking– not trying to judge, but trying to understand, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Hm, Alright.” He says, looking at you. “I see what the problem is.”
You sit up straighter, “Is it that bad?” You ask warily, “No–” He says quickly, reassuringly “It’s not, it’s just the set up.”
You cross your arms over your chest, “The whole page is the set up.” You state defensively.
“Not really,” He runs a hand through his hair, “You’re just starting the wrong way.” He reaches for your pencil—
“May I?” You nod, handing it to him. His fingers brushing yours in the process. He tries to ignore how that made him feel. That small singular touch of your finger– God, maybe he is a loser.
“Okay, let's start simple.” He says, drawing a wonky looking box. You tilt your head, “A box?” you ask curiously. “In physics, everything is a box.” He says casually, you let out a huff of a laugh despite the situation.
He glances up, eyes falling to your mouth briefly before turning back to the page. He swallows once again. “Now the way Professor Kim does it, she assumes everyone just gets it– but I would say to not start with an equation.”
He goes on, looking at you once to make sure you’re paying attention. And you are, because you really do need this.
“These arrows–” he says, attempting to draw some “Are the forces acting on it.” You nod, “So.. I would draw this every time instead.” You ask, trying to understand. He nods, “Yup. It pretty much tells you what's happening before you try to solve it.”
“No one’s ever really explained it that way..” you mutter under your breath, “Like I said, she thinks everyone just automatically understands the bs’ she writes on the board.” He shrugs
“Yeah well, some of us don't." He leans back, watching you look over the page. “Hey, that’s why we’re here y/n.” You turn to look at him, eyes roaming over his face in the way a pretty girl like you can, no questions asked.
“Okay then,” You lean closer, “Do another one.” His eyebrows lift slightly at that “Bossy.” He notes outloud, “Get used to it,” You say with a smile, he huffs out a breath of amusement before flipping onto the next page, setting up another problem–leaning over a bit closer than necessary, but you don’t pull back.
-
“Okay so…what— you were flirting with him?” Sunoo asks, laying against the headboard of your bed.
“I mean, not like ‘I want you so bad’ flirting but kind of..?” You bite your lip in thought, holding another outfit up to your body, earning two head shakes from both Sunoo and Yunjin.
“He gets nervous so quickly, it's kind of cute.” You say, roaming through your closet. “I said he was a good teacher and his ears got all red” You try not to laugh at the memory.
“So, do you like him or something..?” Yunjin asks, scrolling on her phone. “What– no. I mean he’s like fun to tease and stuff.” You chuckle awkwardly, toying with the hem of a black halter top.
Sunoo raises a brow at that, “Is this one of your superior complex things, except this time it's the loser-nerd who's never felt the touch of a woman?”
You throw the top in his direction “Sunoo!” Yunjin laughs, sitting up. “It’s just–none of the guys here actually like show it. You know what I mean? They try to be all nonchalant and stuff, but Heeseung– I don’t know, he's different.” You say, sitting on the bed beside Sunoo.
“So like he’s an ego booster then?” you shoot Yunjin a glare “Well no–I just like how different his attention feels.” You murmur, picking up the halter top beside Sunoo and holding it up to you. The nod from both of them brings a smile to your face.
“Just be careful y/n.” Sunoo looks at you, “What? Is he one of those undercover playboys or something–” You say through a laugh
“No–God, definitely not. It’s just.. you don’t always realize the effect you have on people, and I don’t think he’d take it lightly..” You let out a quiet laugh, “Come on, he doesn't like me that much.” You say before standing up to find a skirt that would work perfectly with your top. You ignore the “Right..” that leaves his lips.
You were far from wrong though–because no, he likes you even more. Probably too much for yesterday evening being the first time he’s actually had a full conversation with you, even if it was for school.
“I mean that has to be flirting right?” Heeseung asks, completely distracted from the code he's almost done completing for this class. “Isn’t flirting like her second language though?” Jake questions, cursing under his breath when his code doesn't run smoothly.
“What—no, right? She doesn't flirt with everyone.” Heeseung says, trying to convince Jake, or maybe even himself. “I dunno’ dude she has one of those personalities.”
“Are you saying I'm reading into it too much?” Heeseung asks, fingers fidgeting with the string of his hoodie. “I just never see girls like that actually going for well— you know..” Jake starts “What? Guys like me?” Heeseung finishes, running a hand through his already messy hair. Jake opens his mouth to speak again but closes it—“Hey, Heeseung?” The feminine voice cutting through there conversation, drawing both of their attention.
“Oh hey, what's up Clair?” He says casually, “Are you guys doing anything tonight?” She asks, biting her lip nervously, “Shit– we have that league ranked thing–” Jake kicks his foot under the desk,
“No! We’re not!” Jake says cheerfully, practically beaming, earning a side eye from Heeseung.
“Oh– Okay, cool.. Well there's this party, apparently everyone's going. Are you guys gonna be there?” she asks, specifically looking at Heeseung “I don't really do parties–”
“Ow!” Heeseung seethes when Jake kicks his leg again. “Yeah, we'll be there!” Jake says through a smile
“Okay, I can text you guys the details!” She gives a small wave before walking back to her seat on the far end of the class. “What the fuck dude?” Heeseung whisper-yells.
“See now that was flirting, and do you even remember the last time you went to a party– let alone got invited to one by a girl.” Jake says through a hushed whisper “Yeah and there's a reason I haven't been to one since.” Heeseung replies through the same tone.
Jake tries not to laugh at the memory, “Yeah well, plus Clair is totally hot, and she was definitely making ‘fuck me’ eyes at you.” Jake shrugs, leaning back in the uncomfortably hard computer lab chair.
“Those definitely werent ‘fuck me’ eyes, and I only have eyes for one girl anyway.” Heeseung says proudly. “Whatever, we're still going.” Jake says, focusing back on his code.
Heeseung chuckles before doing the same, knowing damn well he's going to end up playing League in his room for hours on end–just like every other night where he doesn't have a shit ton of work to do.
“Im still not going–” Heeseung says, rolling his eyes as Jake walks into his room and flops on the edge of his bed.
“Dude– come on. You’ve quite literally been in your room every free chance you get.” He sits up, “I mean, how can you expect a girl like y/n to actually like you when all you do is rot in that fucking gaming chair?”
Heeseung side eyes him before continuing to scroll on his phone– “I really don’t care, frankly those frat parties aren't even enjoyable unless you’re drunk—nevermind we’re going.”
Jake opens his mouth to make a point but closes it when he realizes what words just came out. “Wait, what?”
“I said we’re going.” Heeseung says, looking down at your instagram story where you’re very much going to said party.
He turns the phone to Jake with a smirk on his face. “I mean you said it yourself, she won’t want someone who rots in a gaming chair right?”
“Okay but what the hell are you even going to say to her? Oh hey it’s me your tutor, yeah just came here to stare at you the whole time with club soda in my solo cup.” Jake mocks, standing up.
“No, I'm actually going to talk to her. I did kind of fine when we were at the library, what could even go wrong?” Heeseung shrugs, slipping on his converse.
“Well first of all, you’re not wearing a fucking toy story 2 shirt.” Jake says, looking down at his outfit.
“What's wrong with Toy story 2?” Heeseung mumbles, “I know for a fact that it’s not getting you any pussy.” Jake says, standing up and tossing him some jeans and a red band shirt instead.
“What would you know about getting pussy?” Heeseung says through a laugh. “Definently more than you.”
Heeseung raises a brow at that “Are you saying you’ve been getting some?” Jake holds back a laugh, “Just put the damn clothes on.” He chuckles before walking out.
-
The second he walks in the smell of alcohol, sweat mixed with sweet perfume and probably smoke hits his senses.
The speakers blaring some overrated rap song too loud. It's not surprising that the place is packed either. He already regrets coming. “Nope–this was definitely a mistake.” Jake laughs “Dude you literally insisted on us going.”
Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, which was sort of styled a few minutes prior. “I changed my mind, it's not worth it.” Jake smirks, “You weren't saying that when you saw her post.”
He doesn't respond, instead letting his eyes scan the room– until they land on you. Black halter top, probably too short jean skirt, laughing, talking– smiling at the people around you like they're actually worth your time.
You look like you belong here, “Yeah.. you’re definitely not talking to her.” Jake says, pulling him from his thoughts, “I am.” He raises a brow, “You’re going to overthink it and want to leave.” Jake says, eyeing him.
Heeseung lets out a breath, scanning the surfaces around him before picking up a drink. “Liquid courage, right?” He smiles weakly before downing the contents inside of it, immediately regretting it with the burn that travels down his throat, he grimaces before drinking the rest, letting it settle.
“Well damn.” Jake says, grabbing a drink for himself. “It's fine, everything is fine– I can talk to her, I mean look how she’s talking to everyone else–” before he can continue over thinking, he starts walking towards the end of the house you’re at, he's barely across when–
“Heeseung, You came!” He stops, Clair, standing right in front of him, smiling like she’s actually happy to see him. “Yeah–” He says, “I honestly didn't think you were going to, you seemed like you were gonna say no.” she laughs.
“I was just– considering it.” Heeseung says quickly, “Mmm, well I'm glad you came.” She smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Stepping closer into his personal bubble, like this is normal. “Are you having fun?” He looks around, eyes landing on you for a split second, mid laugh. God– you’re so pretty when you laugh.
“Yeah, it's uh–great.” Jake chokes out a laugh behind him, a smile spreads across Clair’s face “You don’t have to lie” He sighs “Im trying”
“You don’t have to, you can just hang out with me. I’ll make it better.” She says easily, Heeseung glances at you one more time before looking down at Clair, “Yeah—that would help.” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck.
And that's when you spot him, freezing mid conversation with a few guys, leaning into Sunoo. “Is that who I fucking think it is?” His eyes follow yours to exactly who you’re looking at.
Lee Heeseung, at a party. “How much did I drink–” Sunoo says, looking at the cup in his hand. “I thought he was one of those losers who never even left the house?” You whisper to Sunoo, “Yeah I thought so too–” Your eyes trail down the girl talking to him, her body language clearly indicating she has some sort of attraction to him.
“Do you even know that girl?” You ask Sunoo who shakes his head. You down the rest of your drink before setting it down on some random side table. “Um–what do you think you’re doing?” He asks, looking you up and down. “Im…saying hi.” You smile sweetly. Bullshit.
He sighs, “I can’t stop you.” You fix your hair in the mirror behind him quickly before confidently making your way over.
“Wow.” You say, the girl's eyes land on you, Heeseung turns to look at you. First thing his eyes land on is your face, lips, and just for a split second, your chest—which you don’t miss. Your expression isn't easy to decipher, “Who knew Lee Heeseung was a party person.”
“I'm not—” He replies quickly, “Oh, really?” You look behind him at the girl. “Could’ve fooled me.” She smiles politely “Hi, Im Clair–”
“Yeah, hi.” You say, already focused back on him. “I didn't know you came to things like this.” You look him up and down, he swallows underneath your stare
“I mean—I don't usually.” Jake tries to hold a laugh at the interaction he's watching from a few feet away. “Made an exception though, right?”
Yeah it was actually, you.
But the way you say it– there's something underneath your tone. Maybe he's reading into it too much like he does with everything else. “Yeah,” He says slowly, your eyes fall on this Clair girl again, then back to him– making it known you were looking just to see the nervous look on his face.
He has no clue why he's even nervous. Actually that's a lie, it’s completely your fault he's like this. “Are you having fun then?” You step closer, friendly—but there's something else in your eyes.
Maybe it's the alcohol, whatever he drank out of that cup is probably making him see things..right? “I just got here.” You hum in response, unconvinced.
The girl beside him decides to open her mouth, voice annoyingly high. “We were just–” You cut her off “Oh, I'm sure you were.” You don’t bother looking at her, eyes trained on the boy before you instead. Would it be wrong to say you’re enjoying this?
He swallows, Adams' apple visibly bobbing, “..am I doing something wrong?” He asks, genuinely. You laugh, almost surprised at the question “No, why do you think that?” You tilt your head, doing that thing that usually makes guys swoon. “Because you’re–” He stops himself, looking back at Clair “Never mind.”
You watch him for a second longer, the way he shifts on his feet like your stare affects him too much. You smile— that sweet, almost performative one. “Have fun,” You say before turning and walking away, leaving him confused, and definitely even more curious.
Jake comes up beside him, clapping him on the shoulder “Okay, so that was actually fucking insane.” He says through a chuckle “..shut up.” Heeseung mutters. “She was so jealous.” Jake smirks, “She was not–” Heeseung starts.
“She definitely was, and you’re blind if you don’t see it—which you should considering your obsession with her.” Heeseung looks past his shoulder in the direction you walked in.
“I’ll be right back” Jake grabs his arm “Uh no– you’re not about to leave the girl who very clearly likes you.” He says, nodding towards Clair who's now talking to one of her friends. Heeseung pulls his arm away “I'm not leaving anyone.” Jake sighs “You kinda are.”
“I just– I need to talk to her.” Heeseung bites his lip in thought, Jake pauses before a small grin spreads on his face
“Yeah, that's what I thought.” Before he can say anything else, Heeseung is already moving after you. Not even sure what’s going to come out– but he needs to know what the actual fuck just happened.
“Y/n–” You turn, trying to hide your knowing smile as Heeseung approaches you, just like you anticipated. “Oh? What happened to your friend?” You ask, looking behind him briefly. “I mean—you kind of scared her off..” He swallows when you tilt your head “Not that you meant to or anything, I'm not saying that was your intention..”
It definitely was, but okay.
“..or anything, it’s just–what was that?” He asks, your eyes scan over his face before falling to his mouth for a split second– almost unnoticeable. “What was what?” You ask cluelessly.
“I don’t know y/n, that whole..,thing–” You tilt your head “I was just saying hi? Should I have not?” You ask, he swallows at the way you bat your eyelashes at him.
“No– of course not, I mean I'm glad you did.” You step closer, he doesn't step back. “Really?”
He nods too quickly.
“Hm, cute.” You mumble almost to yourself, watching his face. “You should probably go back to your little friend though, Chloe was it?” You look back, where that girl from earlier keeps glancing at him every few seconds by the makeshift bar. “Clair.” He clears his throat.
Oh? Name correction, interesting.
“Yeah, Clair.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes.
“I’ll see you next Thursday, Heeseung, you know– for tutoring.” You smile one more time before turning and walking back to your friends, Heeseung just stands there for a moment, trying to process—probably too hard.
But the way you said it, actually the way you said everything.. He watches you for a split second longer, his eyes can’t help but fall to the sway of your hips especially in that skirt. He turns, walking back to Chloe– or Clair, whatever–he can’t even think straight anymore.
“So what the fuck was that?” Yunjin asks, “I don’t know what you’re talking about” You shrug, taking the cup she offers from her hand and sipping whatever is in it, Sunoo chuckles beside her– unconvinced. She gives you a look, "I'm just having fun” You say through a laugh, they both roll their eyes, even more unconvinced than before.
-
You’re late, for real this time. Seven minutes to be exact, not that he’s counting or anything. He’s just been reviewing the material from the practice test you sent him via messages, with the words “Im so failing this class :(“ written underneath.
He remembers letting a laugh slip before replying with a “You’ll understand it after Thursday, don’t worry.”
And now he’s watching as you approach the same table from last week, sunglasses perched on top of your head, Jeans low on your hips, tank top tight on your figure–you would say it’s necessary for the warm weather, but also what’s wrong with provoking a reaction from your totally cute tutor?
“Y/n–” You settle for the seat across from him with a smile on your face. “Heeseung,” You say, pulling out your notebook from your bag. His eyes drop to your lips, the pinkish gloss coating them.
He clears his throat before looking back down at his own notebook, “Right– so I actually looked over the problems you sent me–” He starts, you tilt your head. “Wait, you actually went over those.” He pauses, looking at you again
“Well, yeah..” He chuckles like it was supposed to be obvious “..It's kind of my job– I mean, as your tutor. I'm here to help you pass.” His lip quirks up, a ghost of a smile coating his face. Job, huh? “Hm, I see.”
He continues “So I re-did the equations but in a way I think you’d understand better.” He flips the notebook towards you, trying to ignore the way you lean forward, giving him a very clear view of what color your bra is.
Your eyebrow lifts, “Is this just dumbed down?” His eyes widen for a split second “What–No, of course not. This just helps people understand better–Trust me I know you’re not dumb, actually you’re really smart.”
You can’t help the smile that slips at his urgency to clear those thoughts from your head, “Actually smart?” You look down at the paper again
“Were you not expecting me to be smart or something?” Something close to panic flashes across his features, pride across yours.
Maybe you are enjoying this too much.
“Of course not..” He swallows, slightly avoiding your lingering gaze, his ears turning a shade of pink. “..Well, actually I wasn’t– it’s just, you’re really popular and social and stuff–like parties every weekend. And you’re really pretty.” You bite the inside of your cheek to avoid smiling.
“Not that pretty people can’t be smart of course, because you definitely are– like really pretty.” His face is a shade of red now, hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Sorry, I know I talk too much, I’m not trying to be rude, or creepy or anything like that.” He shifts in his seat, your silence making his heart race even faster. “I don’t think it's creepy.” You shrug casually. “It’s actually kind of cute.” Your eyes drop to his nose, then to his lips–
“Um–thanks..?” You hum in response, looking back down at his notebook, his eyes follow yours “Right, um– we should definitely get started.”
“Okay, see, 87% is not bad at all, you’re doing good,” His eyes locked on your computer screen, scrolling through the results of your 2nd attempt at the practice test for your exam. You roll your eyes,
“I seriously don’t know how many more of these stupid tests I can do, and I don't need an 87, I need a 100.” He bites his lip in thought “No, you need to stop being hard on yourself.” You look up at him, slightly surprised with his determined tone.
“You're smart, it’s normal to not understand the material the second you see it. It takes practice–I understand you want it to be perfect, trust me, I'm the same way.”
“Okay then, I want to do it again.” He nods, restarting it and turning the computer towards you. “Im patient.” He says, watching the concern glint over your face. You no longer struggle to ask him a question when you need help on a problem like you did the first time you took the practice test, he smiles and nods every time you ask too.
“92.” You say, looking down at the score on your computer. “Not bad at all, your brain is starting to recognize the material.” He states, “Ugh, Why can’t you just be there beside me when I take the exam..” You frown.
“Trust me, if I could, I would.” He says through a chuckle. When your frown remains on your face, he speaks up again “Look, If you need me too– I’d be more than happy to look over the notes she gave you, I can try and summarize it and send a video explaining it.”
“You’d really do that for me?” You ask, sitting up straighter. “It’s my goal to help you pass y/n, and of course I’d do it for you– how could I not..” He goes on “You're pretty irresistible honestly, it’s kind of hard to say no to someone like you. But I’d do it willingly of course.”
He swallows at the way your leg grazes his under the table, the touch burning even through his jeans. “That’s really sweet Heeseung..”
“Yeah– of course, anything for you,” Your mouth twitches, shy of a smirk.
“Anything for me?” You ask, your foot tracing his calf over his jeans. He nods, trying so– so hard to ignore the heat that courses through him at your touch, fuck– why did he have to wear these jeans today.
Please go down, please, please..
“Are you okay Heeseung?” you tilt your head, almost genuine concern in your eyes. “Yeah um, I just–” He checks the time on his phone, “I kind of have to get going, it's a– coding thing.” He picks up his notebook, shoving it inside of his bag, standing up abruptly. Praying that you don’t look down. “I’ll send you that video, bye!”
You try not to laugh at the way he can’t even make direct eye contact with you, because the second he stands up your eyes fall to the bulge in his jeans. This time you swallow because either you’re really tired or Lee Heeseung might be... Big?
“Heeseung,” You call out before he can go around the corner, he turns, “Thanks for your help.” You smile innocently, like you’re not the very reason he has to leave so abruptly to get rid of his raging hard on.
He nods before turning the corner. You take your time packing up your stuff, not even aware of the small smile that coats your face, which hasn’t disappeared.
-
He has to be reading into it too much, because that's something he's good at; overanalyzing, coming to insane conclusions…There’s no way you might actually like him back? Right? No he has to be going crazy.
He looks down at the messages on his phone one more time.
Heeseung: [video attachment]
Heeseung: i went over the notes and tried to explain them better for you in this, let me know if it helps
You: oh my gosh?
You: Thank you so much Heeseung this is insane
Heeseung: of course, im just happy I can help you
You: I feel kind of bad though.. :(
Heeseung: why would you feel bad?
You: you’re doing all this for me and I haven't really done much in return.. with the tutoring lessons being free and all
Heeseung: please don’t worry about it y/n
Heeseung: If anything you’re helping me
You: ughh
You: I still feel bad..
You: how about this, if I pass my exam on Thursday, instead of tutoring me you can come to my place so we can celebrate! :)
He's been staring at the message for the past five minutes, part of him debating going to Jake and asking for advice, but something about this feels different? Like a shared secret between the two of you.
Heeseung: I’d love to
Heeseung: do you want me to bring some food over then?
You: No silly, im going to cook
Heeseung: wait you can cook?
You: a pretty girl whos smart and can cook, are you shocked? :0
Heeseung: thats not what I meant
Heeseung: Sorry
Heeseung: I'm sure you can cook
Heeseung: whatever you make is probably amazing
You: Im just teasing you Hee
You: ill see you around mk?
Oh my God, you’re going to kill him, like actually kill him. Sure it's just messages but something about you giving him a nickname like that– yeah his heart definitely just stopped for a second. Fuck— Jake's right, he is pathetic.
Heeseung: yeah sorry again
Heeseung: I'll see you
He cringes looking down at the part where he actually stumbled over his words on fucking i-messages, turning off his phone before he can do anything else stupid.
“..and why are you smiling at your phone like that?” Yunjin asks, raising her brow while painting her nails. “What? I'm not smiling.” You say, putting your phone face down on her bed.
“Nope, you definitely were– like cheesing ear to ear.” She adds, blowing on her nails to dry them.
“Let me guess, Heeseung?” She says, teasing glint in her eyes. “Uh–no, what? Why would you think it's him? He’s like just my tutor, and plus he's a total nerd, and a loser.” She blinks once, then she laughs. “W-why are you laughing?” You ask, sitting up in her bed.
“You like him don’t you? Like actually–” She starts, “No! I don’t– why would I like him? No–” You stammer over your words.
“Calm down, I'm not hating on you for it or anything, I honestly just thought you were giving him the time of day because of how down bad he is for you, you know?” She watches you closely
“I'm serious, I thought you just liked teasing him at first, but no– you genuinely like Lee Heeseung–”
You stand up to put your hand over her mouth, “My nails!–” She says through a laugh, “Do not finish that sentence–” You say, trying to cover your own smiling face with a serious one, failing miserably. “Fine, fine.” She says, hands raised innocently, checking to make sure her nails are still good. You roll your eyes, sitting on the edge of her bed.
“Just be careful y/n, okay?” you pick up your phone, nodding “Yeah, yeah whatever.” You say through a small laugh.
-
Your fingers are literally crossed under the table as Professor Kim hands out the graded exam papers. You bite your lip as she comes closer to you, she looks down at the paper than at you before smiling.
“Good job Y/n, I'm glad to see the tutoring is helping.” She says before placing the paper on the table.
96%.
You’re seeing things right, because Professor Kim doesn't just hand out A+ grades like that.
The first thing that comes to your mind; Heeseung. You’re thankful when she ends her lecture early.
You remember going to the computer science building a few times when you and Sunoo met up after his class, and obviously now you know that Heeseung happens to have the same class, why not surprise him, he’s obviously going to be proud!
“Y/n?” Sunoo questions, walking out of the computer lab, mint green bag hung on his shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” He asks through a chuckle. “Is uh.. Heeseung in there?” He raises a brow “Yeah.. pretty sure he’s staying for some club meeting– Gaming development or something.”
You nearly laugh, because of course someone like him would be in a fucking Gaming Developemnt club. You peek behind him to get a look inside the lab, “I’ll see you later Sunoo,” he shakes his head before disappearing down the hall
You open the door to the lab and spot the back of his head immediately, even if it is covered in a grey beanie.
Your eyes drift to the left side of him. Fucking hell. Can this girl not catch a hint? You don’t even care about the heads turning as you make your way further into the room. Surprised that a girl like you is walking into the middle of a club like this.
“You definitely know a lot about this stuff, Heeseung, it’s really impressive–” Clair starts, but stops when Heeseung's eyes drift to you, a slightly shocked expression on his face “Y/n– what are you doing here?” You roll your eyes.
“Everyone keeps asking me that.” You cross your arms over your chest, ignoring the way his friends' eyes switch to you and Heeseung like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
“I have something to show you.” You say, not even caring how it sounds. “We were busy working on something and this is a private club meeting actually, so im not sure how you even–” Clair starts, tone clearly bitter.
“Okay well good thing it’s only for him to see, and not you.” You interrupt, finally look at her.
“You’re not even supposed to be in here though–” Her hand leaves the back of Heeseung's chair as he stands up. “It’s fine, I can talk to her outside if I have to,” he says, moving past Clair, you tilt your head sweetly at her before walking with Heeseung out into the hallway.
“Okay Y/n, what–” You pull out the folded paper from your bag, biting your lip eagerly.
“Go on, open it.” You say, he looks at you, eyes falling to your lips before opening the paper. “Holy shit—96?” He exclaims, a smile coming to his face almost immediately. You nod, humming in response
“I knew you could do it, and I mean… this is a lot, even for Professor Kim, god—you’re amazing.” He says looking down at the paper. “It’s because of your help y’know” You say, stepping closer.
His eyes flick up to yours, “I mean—it was really all you, truly. I just helped a little–” He says, chuckling. “We’re still on for tonight though, right? I still have to repay you for helping me” You smile sweetly. “Repay me?” He asks, eyes falling to your low cut top for a split second—almost unnoticeable.
“Yeah, I'm cooking too, remember?” You bring your hand up, picking at an invisible piece of lint from the collar of his shirt. Thank God he wore a beanie today, or else you would have seen the embarrassing shade of pink his ears just turned.
“You really don’t have to do that for me y/n– seeing your score was honestly rewarding enough, truly—I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do something for me..” he says, hand coming up to the back of his neck. “I know, but I want to. So let me,”
“Okay– but seriously if you change your mind–”
“I won’t, Hee,” You say through a laugh, the nickname shoots heat straight through him “I’ll see you later m’kay?” You smile, feigning innocence.
You stand up on your tip toes to press a small kiss to his cheek before giving him one last wave “Bye Hee,”
He presses his hand to his cheek, why is he burning up right now? No way that actually just happened–
He makes his way back into the computer lab, mind still replaying the interaction over and over again, the softness of your lips– hell, even the way you were looking at him. Jake shoots him a side eye
“Dude, are you good?” He asks, trying to hold in a laugh. “What—huh?” Heeseung questions, fixing his beanie. “You look a little.. Flushed.” He says through a smirk, eyeing the light pink gloss mark on the side of his face.
“Im not flushed–” Jake points to the mark on his face, making Heeseung touch his own.
He turns an even more embarrassing shade at the light pink glossy residue coating his finger tips, earning a laugh from his best friend,
-
So what if you made sure to clean up extra good before he came over, and it’s not like he's going to even know you looked up a recipe online for how to make pasta. At least it tastes decent.
You bite your lip anxiously, fixing your hair in the reflection of your microwave before moving to open the door for Heeseung.
“I know what you’re going to say– but I figured we could fit some studying in..” He says, watching as you chuckle before inviting him in and closing the door behind him.
“I shouldn’t even be surprised” You say through a laugh. He takes off his shoes, something he's always done growing up. He looks around your apartment, the light pink walls that you managed to convince your landlord to let you paint, everything is very you.
A faint sweet smell lingering in the air, slightly clashing with the rich scent of the pasta you made. His eyes fall to the pan, “Wow– it looks..” “Edible?” You finish, eyebrow raised.
He laughs, “I was going to say amazing” He gives you a look as if to ask if he can put his bag down, “Make yourself comfortable Hee, I don’t bite” You smile as he places his bag down on your couch.
He walks back over to the kitchen, watching as you grab two plates from the upper cabinet. “Let me help you,” He says, taking the plate from you. “Heeseung, I'm the one who invited you–” You say, rolling your eyes. “Fine, fine”
You place the plates on the center table in the small living room. He tries so, so hard to not let his eyes wander but you make it hard for them not too.
“..want a drink?”
“Huh?” He asks, running a hand through his hair. “I was asking if you wanted a drink” You say through a laugh, placing two glasses on the counter. “Oh– yeah, thanks” He says, sipping the dark red wine yunjin got you for your birthday last year.
“Good right?” You ask, tilting your head. “I don’t really drink much but anything you’d give me is good,” He pauses “Like any food– or drink” You chuckle
“I know, just try the food,” You say, sitting down on the couch beside him. He takes the first bite, slight surprise washing over his features before he looks at you.
Your eyes are curious watching for his reaction. “That's– that's really good y/n” He says, taking another bite. You smile proudly before doing the same.
You two have been there for a while, glasses empty. Too lazy to get up for a refill—“What are you doing?” You ask, watching him stand up.
“I meant what I said about extra practice–” He grabs his bag “You cannot be serious right now Hee.”
That nickname again, the one that makes him feel things he probably shouldn't from just words. But he needs to do something, anything to take his mind off the fact that he's here alone, with a pretty girl like you..studying is obviously the only ethical option.
He grabs the notebook from his bag, along with his laptop. “Im very serious, isn’t your next exam coming up soon?” He asks, opening his laptop and sitting on the couch.
“In like a month..” You say, rolling your eyes and settling next to him. He swallows at how close the proximity is, you’re just so warm next to him.
“All you do is help me study.. I still feel bad about it, and now we're about to do it again.” You frown, and he finally turns to look at you.
Regrets it immediately, because his eyes drop to the way you push your breasts together almost unnoticeably before flicking back up to yours. “I already said, it's my job and–” You shut the laptop.
“A job you don’t even get anything for.” You say, sliding the laptop off his lap and onto the coffee table. “Its really the credits– I also like helping you, even though you’re already pretty smart, I really don’t mind–” He continues on.
“Fine–” You say, leaning back against the couch. “Okay—yeah, perfect, it makes me feel better if we’re ahead anyway.” He says with a smile.
For the past 30 minutes, everything has been going in one ear and out the other, because hearing about physics sure as hell wasn't how you were planning to thank him tonight.
“..and that's how you get from point A to point B in this equation–”
“Heeseung.” You interrupt, he stops explaining, pencil hovering over the notebook, turning to look at you. “I can start from the beginning, I don’t mind–”
“No, God– no, I’m just..” You look down at the paper, “I don’t wanna study anymore.” He puts the pencil down, “But the extra practice is good–” You lean in closer, probably too close,
“Studying is all we do, I invited you here so we could take a break from that, you know? Celebrate where that studying got us, and properly thank you.” He looks at you with wide eyes when you face him on the couch, legs curled beneath you.
“I though the uh, I thought the food was the thank you..” you spot the small bead of sweat near his eyebrow and nearly laugh. “Do I make you nervous or something?” You ask, his ears turn that pathetic shade of pink.
He nods, “Y-yeah.” Unable to even form a proper lie or excuse for the way his skin is probably burning with anticipation. “Why?” You ask, tilting your head curiously.
“Well I mean– how could I not, you’re really pretty, and really intimidating..” He pauses
“..I didn’t even think it was possible for a girl like you to be into someone like me– not saying that you’re into me or anything, I wouldn't object to you being into me obviously, I mean I'm clearly in you– I mean, into you. It’s hard not to be honestly—” You watch the way his mouth moves before his brain processes what he's saying.
“—I was hoping it wasn’t obvious, is it obvious? Okay now im just rambling im sorry, I can’t help it– you just make me really nervous” He's breathing hard now, sitting up completely straight.
“Cute.” You smile, watching the confusion on his face. “If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d think you have a crush on me.” You scoot closer, probably invading his personal space.
As if he’d complain.
“Do you have a crush on me, Lee Heeseung?” Your eyes fall to his lips “I– well.. No?…” He shuts his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart
“…sorry, that's a lie. I mean, How could I not.. I like– I like you, which is probably not professional for a tutor and student relationship but I–” You shut him up immediately when your lips press against his.
Your lips are soft, when you pull back a few seconds later his tongue darts out to lick his own lips, the faint strawberry taste of your lipgloss remaining, his expression is almost comedic.
He doesn't think twice before closing the distance again, needing to feel your lips on his, you let out a sound into his mouth, your hand trailing up to rest on his shoulder, he grips your waist, tugging you closer.
You swing your leg over his, allowing you to straddle his lap, deepening the kiss further, you wrap your hands around his neck, tangling your hands in his hair, a light tug making him groan into your mouth pathetically.
His hands are unsure at your hips, still in shock that he’s actually here right now, in your home, touching you– kissing you. When you slip your tongue in his mouth, his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, you roll them softly and his breath hitches.
“P-please do that again..” he breathes out, looking down when you roll your hips again, you feel him growing hard, demanding beneath you—and undoubtedly big. “Touch me Hee–” You whisper, nipping at his bottom lip.
One hand slips under your shirt, feeling the softness of your back, the other trailing down to rest on your ass gently, offering a squeeze.
“Like this?” He asks, voice rough—needy. “Mhm” You nod, rolling your hips forward against his, he thrusts up once from the friction,
“S-shit– sorry, I'm sorry–” You lower your lips, kissing just below his jaw, "Don’t apologize" This time when you grind against him, he reciprocates it, the hard line of his cock grinding perfectly between your legs.
“You’re so pretty” He mumbles, both hands cupping your ass through your pants, you smile against his neck before pressing one more delicate kiss to his jaw.
When your lips leave his skin a sound breaks from him. “What–” He watches as you slide off his lap.
“I wanna suck you off.” You say bluntly, his heart beat picks up even faster than before.
His hands sit awkwardly at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do– which quite frankly, he doesn't. You lick your lips before reaching for his jeans. Heeseung stops your hand, gripping onto your wrist.
“Wait” You pause, looking up at him. “I just want to make it clear that uh– this..” he looks down at the very visible bulge in his jeans. “..this isn’t why I came here– you don’t have to..” You rest your hand on his thigh.
“I know I don’t have to. But I want to.” You clarify. He bites down on his lip, his cock aching to be set free from its confinement. “I wanna repay you, like I said.” You smile as his grip on your wrist loosens.
Unbuttoning his pants, fingers hooking around the waistband, he lifts his hips allowing you to pull down his jeans and boxers in one go.
“Holy shit–” You say, gaping at the sheer size of him. Flushed pink at the mushroom tip, and so fucking wet.
Your eyes trail along the prominent vein on the underside before looking up at him. He looks nervous as hell right now, “Is it– is there something wrong with it?” he asks, gulping.
You shake your head immediately, now you’re the one swallowing with the sudden dryness in your throat. “No– definitely not. It's just.. like” You lick your lips “Really big.”
“Do you normally get this..wet?” You ask, wrapping your hand– or attempting to wrap it around the base.
He winces at the feeling of your soft palm before nodding. “Is that a—fuck.. Is that a bad thing?” He asks, tone utterly pathetic.
You answer with a long lick from the base to the tip, gathering what you can of his leaking pre cum, the saltiness coating your tastebuds in the best way possible.
He lets out a wrecked sound, the feeling of a tongue on him so new–
“Not at all.” You mumble, running your tongue along the underside of his tip. His hips buck at the sensation, mouth hanging open, watching you.
This time he doesn't say sorry. You smile against him before wrapping your mouth around him, trying to take as much as you can, you brace one of your hands on his thigh, the other one wrapping around the base of his cock.
It's so worth it once the most pathetic moan escapes past his lips and he makes no move to hide it.
“I-its so warm–” He groans, hand coming up to tangle in your hair purely on instinct. You hum and the vibration makes his hips jerk instantly, forcing more of himself in the warm column of your throat. “Y/n– I can’t..” He says, biting his lip–trying to watch you but it's so hard to with the way his eyes flutter shut.
His sounds give you even more motivation as you bob your head faster, squeezing the base of his cock. “W-wait, slow down–” He tries to pull your head back, but you stay put as his warm cum spills down your throat, his grip on your hair falters as you milk him dry.
You pull off of him, cum coating your lips, looking up at his face, the sweat beside his eyebrow, to his glazed eyes, then back down to his still hard dick.
“You’re..” You breathe out, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and blinking once “You’re still hard–” You say, watching as a small bead of cum dribbles down his cock along the thick vein. “I should have said something– Once it gets like this..” He looks down at his dick, standing proud “..it takes um, a few tries to get it down.” He swallows.
He moves to pull his boxers back up to tuck it back but you stop him. “Have you ever had a handjob?” You ask, standing up and sitting next to him. He shakes his head shyly. “Ive never really had anyone– you know.” You smile at that,
“Good, I wanna make you cum again.” His cheeks flush at that, but he nods because who is he to say no to such an offer?
-
It doesn’t stop there. What used to be a dream– a fantasy in Heeseung's mind is actually actively coming true.
Who would have thought innocent tutoring lessons would turn into something like this? A shared secret between the two of you that your friends are definitely picking up on.
Based on the way you walk around even more confidently than before, and the way you actually look for Heeseung in a room—only to find him already staring at you.
To be completely honest, you don’t know what it is you have going on, but the attention feels so fucking good—especially after what happened just a few days ago,
“So what did you need help with?” You had asked, following him into the computer lab, which was empty due to it being after hours. “Nothing,” He said, Your brow lifting immediately, “You literally asked me to come here,”
“I just need to check something.” He mumbles, you cross your arms over your chest, “That sounds suspicious.”
He looks up at you, loading in his work in progress of a game, “It’s not.” You roll your eyes, “Yeah will it sound like it.”
He exhales, trying to sound as least suspicious as possible, “Can you just–stand there for a second.” You blink once, “What?”
“Just a second,” You tap your finger against your crossed arm, “Why?” He continues clicking stuff on his computer, “Because I asked,” He says simply, “That’s not a reason.”
He looks up at you again, almost pleading look in his eyes. “Fine, even though this is weird.” You say, giving in.
He turns his monitor away from you, and you shift slightly. His eyes flick between his screen and you–not awkwardly, just with extreme focus, like he’s studying you. “..what are you doing?” you finally ask, “Nothing.” He mutters, “you’re staring.”
“No, im observing,” He says confidently, the sound of his mouse clicking and keyboard typing filling the space between the two of you. “That's worse.”,
“Can you just turn a little to the left..” He asks with a vague gesture. “Why?”
“I just need to see something,” You huff, “Why are we doing this Heeseung?” he hesitates for a split second, “It’s for my game.” he admits.
“The one you’ve been working on?” He nods, looking up at you again, then back to the screen.
“So what does that have to do with me?” You narrow your eyes slightly, “I needed a reference,” He says, biting his lip nervously, waiting for you to call him a creep– a weirdo, obsessive freak maybe?
But when you smile, he can’t help but mirror the action, quickly going back to focusing when you do eventually turn for him.
Heeseung's cute, attractive in a way the guys you've been with before weren't.
The first time you walked into his room a little bit over a week ago for tutoring–which ultimately led to a very heated makeout session, and you learning that he really likes kissing.
His room didn't even surprise you, hell– he even had a whole section dedicated to Toy Story figures.
You also learned that he’s a pretty big gamer, and takes it very seriously– probably why he’s in that Gaming development club or whatever the fuck.
Your favorite part is how shy he gets, especially when you say the most out of pocket things.
“So you’ve never eaten a girl out before?” You ask, sitting up straight on his bed.
His face turns an embarrassing shade of red. “I–No..” he says, shifting in his gaming chair, thankful the notebook in his lap covers the way his cock is already half hard from the words alone.
You tilt your head, smiling. “Do you even know where the clit is?” You ask through a chuckle.
“What– Why are you..” He looks down at his notebook, then at the physics papers scattered across his bed where you sit.
“…We should be focusing on studying right now y/n–” You roll your eyes, gathering the papers together in one stack. “Just answer the question Hee.” That nickname again. The one that really gets him, and you know it.
“I did a human anatomy study for one of my classes last semester—very detailed, so, kind of? I think.” Your brow raises at that. “Yeah? So you think you’re some expert now?” You ask, leaning back on your palms.
He finally removes the notebook from his lap, setting it on the cluttered table behind him. Your eyes immediately fall to the very clear bulge in his sweatpants that he makes no move to hide anymore.
“Is this you trying to distract me from studying again?” He asks, standing up. “Is it working?” You question, biting your lip.
“I had to lie to the tutoring lab administrators the other day, about the tutoring hours y’know. I couldn’t just tell them the pretty girl I got assigned to, spent half the time sucking me off instead of actually doing her work” He says, not exactly sure where this newfound confidence of his is coming from—but from the way your cheeks flush that perfect shade of pink, he must be doing something right.
“Couldn’t tell them she wears these little tops that seem to get smaller every session, these shorts that get tighter– absolutely kills me,” he admits, looking down at your bare legs.
“I did tell them that you’re a great student, good at comprehending the material, always focused on the task at hand.” He climbs on the bed with you until you're laying flat on your back.
“Kind of lied about the focus part though, you’re more of a distraction– a really good one at that.” He clarifies, dipping his head to kiss the sensitive spot below your ear he just discovered the other day.
“Hee–” You breathe out, running a hand through his hair, he pulls back looking down at you. Humming in response, already lost in you.
“Are you going to eat me out or not?” You ask bluntly, you don't miss the pink shade that covers his ears. “You should know by now that I'll do anything you ask me too,” He says, licking his lips.
He pulls back, looking down at you. “Ive been thinking about this you know, can I admit that?” he asks, smoothing both of his hands down your bare thighs—testing.
You nod, hooking your fingers around the waistband of your jeans shorts, but he stops your hand. “I want to look at you like this for a little—“
“I think about you a lot actually, probably more than I should.” He adds, lowering himself to the soft carpet of his bedroom floor.
“Ever since that first day of Econ too, remember when you tapped my shoulder?” He smiles, you nod. “I swear I couldn't get you out of my head– not in a creepy way, but you just–” He presses a gentle kiss to your calf— not quite sure if this is what he's supposed to be doing, but it feels right.
“You have an effect on people y/n, I don’t even think you realize it.” He whispers, looking up at you.
“Heeseung..”
“I know, it's a lot– there's so much more I have to say too.” He chuckles, still unbelieving that you’re right here in front of him.
“But I really—really want to do this right now.” He admits, fingers finally hooking around the waistband of your shorts.
He pulls them down slowly, the movement intimate, like he's treasuring each reaction– studying it harder than he does his schoolwork, or whatever video game he plays.
You sit up on your elbows to get a better view, and it's so worth it.
He looks up once, and when you nod his fingers move to pull your underwear down as well, and he moans—actually moans at the sight of you.
“Even your pussy is perfect–” He says, licking his lips. The words cause even more arousal to drip out of you. He swipes his finger through your folds once, gathering some– the touch makes your hips jolt.
“After, we can finish Toy Story 2 right?” He asks, looking up at you—eyes practically sparkling. You nod immediately “Yes– fuck, Heeseung..” You breathe out, watching him lick the juices from his fingers.
“Just need your mouth on me– now.” You demand, he smiles “Still bossy as ever.” Before mirroring the same action of his finger, licking a stripe up your pussy, because this is what he’s supposed to do right?
He tries making out with your pussy, and from the moans that leave your lips he must be doing something right. There's something messy about the way he does it,
“Just like that– are you..fuck” You moan when his nose bumps your clit, “..are you sure you’ve never done this?” You ask, breaths coming in heavy pants as he hums against you, your hips bucking against his face.
He discovers a rhythm, alternating between teasing your aching hole with the tip of his tongue, and flicking it over your throbbing clit– the sensitive bud craving the touch.
He pulls back for a moment, admiring the mess he's made before gathering some spit in his mouth and letting it drop right onto your pussy.
Where the fuck did he learn that from.
He looks up at you, the way your mouth hangs open before latching his lips onto your clit, taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.
“Oh my God– Hee, I can’t..” You give up on holding yourself up with your arms as your fingers tangle through his soft locks, pulling him even closer to you. He groans into the heat of you, the sounds of him eating you out filthy–
“I need–” You say, trying to get your words out, he parts from your clit, looking up at you, the bottom half of his face completely covered in your slick, but he could care less about that right now—if anything it's rewarding.
“I need your fingers, Heeseung..” You whimper, he brings his middle finger to your entrance, teasing it subtly,
“Like this?” he asks, watching your face for approval. You nod, he pushes the tip of his finger in, your hole welcoming him in with ease
“It’s so wet–so warm” he observes, pushing it in deeper, you hold onto his wrist. “Mmm– Hee..” You cry out as his finger curls experimentally.
He watches your reaction before doing it once more, noting how you tighten around him at the movement.
“You’re so pretty—seriously, I can’t get enough of you..” He whispers, the words easily falling out, your eyes flutter shut.
He moves your hand from his wrist, setting it on top of his head.
“Pull it—I don’t care, it feels good” He admits, curling his finger deeper, using his other hand to prevent your legs from closing around his head.
And you’re thankful he did because the second his tongue is back on you, you’re tugging at the strands, his finger curling and uncurling inside of you, mixed with the way he slurps at your clit
This has to be the best head you’ve ever gotten—hands down. Inexperienced guys really do eat pussy the best.
“F-fuck Hee, I– Im close..” You warn, but it only makes him more determined—the thought of you actually cumming, and even better, him being the one to give you that pleasure fuels him even more.
His finger repeatedly brushing a spot inside of you that you can’t reach and his tongue flicking your clit through his pursed lips has you completely undone—reaching your high with his name on your tongue, pulling at his hair– not sure if you want him off or even closer—definitely closer.
He moans against your pussy like he's the one getting pleasure, in all fairness—he probably is.
Your back arches off the bed as your juices coat his face, he doesn't even care if it drips down his chin, wetting the sheets below you, he still tries to greedily lap up what he can, finger never leaving inside of you until the rise and fall of your chest slows.
Only then does he lift his head from between your legs, looking up at you for approval. “T-theres no way that was you’re first time” You say, watching as he stands up, licking his lips.
“So you would let me do it again?” He asks, picking up your underwear from the floor, “Is that a serious question Heeseung?” He chuckles,
“Good, because I think I maybe– kind of got the hang of it.” He says, moving to put on your underwear for you. And you let him, “I might need to do it a few more times to make sure– for research purposes.. And stuff.”
He clears his throat, you can’t help but laugh, wincing at the way the cloth of your underwear feels on your sensitive pussy. He presses a kiss just above your waistband. You swallow at the action– how genuine it felt, how genuine the boy before you is.
You watch as he lays against the headboard of the bed, cock clearly hard in his pants before raising your brow. “What?” he says through a chuckle, flipping through the apps on his TV looking for the Toy Story 2 movie.
“You’re just going to sit here, with that?” You ask, still laid down on his bed. “You said we could watch Toy Story 2– I thought..” He shifts when you sit up, crawling to lay next to him.
“God– you really are a nerd.” You say through a laugh, “Hey– the plot is a lot deeper than they make it out to be, I think you’re really underestimating the whole thing–” He starts,
“Heeseung, just put the movie on.” You shake your head, he presses a sloppy kiss to your forehead before doing just that.
But its safe to say you didn’t let him deal with his little (big) problem for much longer after that.
-
“Why are you doing that?” Jake asks, side eyeing Heeseung as he works on the code before him– while also smiling.
“Huh? Doing what?” He questions, looking at his friend for a split second.
“That smiling thing.”
Heeseung scoffs, “I’m not doing any type of smiling thing.” Jake's eyes fully leave his monitor to really look at him.
“Y’know, you’re absolutely shit at lying.” Jake says, “I’m not even– what,”
“It’s y/n huh?” Jake says for him. “Shut up–” Heeseung mutters, tone a hushed whisper.
“Holy shit– no fucking way she actually..” Heeseung's ears go that pathetic shade of pink, “Don’t be so loud okay? I– she doesn’t want anyone knowing anything” Heeseung says, seriously.
Jake raises a brow at that “What is she embarrassed or something?”
“No– it’s just, I– It doesn’t matter, okay?” Heeseung says, voice low. “I dunno man, you really like her, right?—are you sure..”
“Heeseung?” That familiar voice cuts through, Clair.
Part of him thankful for taking him away from this conversation with his best friend. “Hey, what's up?” He immediately says, ignoring Jake's annoyed huff.
“We’re going to the dining hall to get something– the others are really hungry, especially with the deadline coming up.” She says, biting her lip anxiously.
“Do you wanna come with– you too, Jake.” She adds, looking behind him for a split second.
He looks back down at his computer, the half finished code nowhere near ready, “I can’t. I have to finish this.” Heeseung says, cursing himself for being so distracted.
“Oh, um—okay, want us to bring something back–”
Jake interrupts immediately. “Yeah, pretty sure they're doing that good ramen today, thanks Clair.” She shoots him a look before glancing back at Heeseung, who is in fact back to working on the code.
“Yeah, sure.” She replies, both of the boys missing the tone of her voice.
“I seriously don’t understand his obsession with her.” Clair says, making her way to the dining haul. “I mean she's like really pretty.” Her friend says quietly.
“Not that pretty—I don’t get why someone like her would even go for someone like Heeseung, I mean they are like the complete opposite!” She says through a whine.
“Not to mention she's a total bitch.” Her friend side eyes her “I don’t get why you even like Heeseung in the first place, yeah he's cute and all but if you’re actually in competition with Y/n I fear–”
“Shut up– She's probably just using him anyway.” Clair mumbles, stepping into the line,
“Using Heeseung?” Her friend questions through a laugh “Yeah, I mean, she's known for being a slut. Wouldn’t doubt if none of those frat guys wanted her anymore so she had to move for him out of all people.” Her friend shakes her head “lm gonna get the fruits, try not to explode while im gone.” Clair rolls her eyes at the comment.
“I really can’t.. I promised him.” You say, looking down at your phone. “Are you serious Y/n? Last month you were like begging to go to party after party and now you don’t want to? Is the dick that good?” Sunoo asks, earning a laugh from Yunjin beside him.
“They can’t reschedule for next Saturday instead?” You ask, biting your lip while looking past the line of people waiting for food– guess this is what you get for coming when everyone was on a break.
“I mean, I wouldn't doubt if one of those frat guys would cancel it if you asked,” Yunjin says with a smirk. “I’m not going, end of story– I promised Heeseung and I can’t break it.” You say proudly,
“Okay, fine, why don’t you just bring him then?” Sunoo suggests, You look at him like he's crazy. “Are you kidding?” You ask, looking at the both of them. “Uh– no babe, dead serious. I mean he's clearly down bad for you, and by the looks of it you’re pretty damn close.” Yunjin states.
“Hes–” You chuckle, “hes not even the party type. like seriously, he hates them.”
They look at each other, “You sure it’s not something else.. Like maybe the concept of hard launching with someone like him?” Sunoo asks, tilting his head. “What– you guys are ridiculous.” You mutter.
“Plus, the only reason why he was at that one party was because he saw that story I posted” You smile at the memory,
“Told me himself the otherday.” You say proudly. You miss the way the girl in front of you stills.
“So he literally admitted to stalking you.” Sunoo says, brow raised. “He so was, and you love it too.” Yunjin adds through a laugh
“So what if it feels good? Am I not allowed to have fun?” You ask, rolling your eyes. “I think you’re having a little more than fun..” Sunoo mumbles.
You tighten your lips to hide your smile before looking past the line of people, “This is exactly why we don’t come here during peak hours.”
“Heeseung–” Clair says first thing as she walks back into the computer lab, He lifts his head, acknowledging.
“I–” She pauses, Jake raises a brow beside him. “There's something you should know” She says quickly.
“Is it about the development? If you need help on something I can..” He starts “It's not about anything with the club– it's about that girl.” She says, shifting on her feet.
Heeseung looks behind him at his best friend before turning back to Clair,
“Y/n?” He questions, because who else could she be talking about..
“Yes.”
“Look, if it's about how she can sometimes be a little.. intimidating..” he pauses, trying to think of the right word, "That's just how she is, don’t take it personal–”
"It's not about that!” She says louder than intended, causing a few eyes to look her way and Jake to make a noise beside him.
“Look– can we talk outside?” She asks with an almost nervous tone. “Oh, um..” He looks down at his monitor before looking back up
“..yeah– um, yeah sure.” He mumbles before standing up and following her out into the empty hallway.
“So what's up–”
“She’s using you.” Clair says flatly. He pauses–what?
“Shes– who?” He swallows, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the girl in front of him. “Y/n, she’s using you,” He looks down at his feet,
“Why would she use me?” He questions almost to himself, a dry chuckle leaving his throat.
Clair looks at him, trying to bite back another emotion from rising.
“I overheard her talking with her friends in the dining hall.” Clair starts, his eyes are back on her, “They were pretty much talking about how you were just an ego booster for her—because she was bored.” She says, not even caring if she's twisting the conversation into something that will hopefully benefit her.
“W-what–” Heeseung searches her eyes for something—anything, amusement maybe? To say this is just some fucked up joke?
“No– that doesn’t make any sense, she wouldn't do something like that..”
He bites his lip and thought, trying to replay your moments together— those moments in private.
The ones no one knows about except the two of you– your shared secret.
“It’s true Heeseung, I heard them”
He shakes his head, unbelieving– because you wouldn't do that, no you wouldn't. You said you cared about him,
Clair is lying, she has to be.
“Are you lying to me?” Heeseung asks, looking her dead in the eye.
She swallows, “No– Heeseung, why would I lie about this? I'm telling you what I heard, she’s using you for her own benefit, that's how girls like her are..”
He scoffs “Girls like her? What does that mean?” she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “You know what I'm talking about.. Those attention whores–”
“Don’t.” He interrupts, "Don't speak about her like that– she’s not,”
He sighs "That's not what she is, okay?” He breathes out
“But im trying to tell you–” She starts
“Why? Why would you be telling me this? What's the point of it?” He asks, trying to contain the fear in his chest right now. The doubt starting to cloud his judgement.
“Because you deserve someone better, Heeseung—someone who actually appreciates you, not someone who's trying to use you!” She says, reaching out for his arm.
He steps back, out of her grasp. “I– I don’t believe you.” He whispers, lips in a tight line.
“But I heard her–” She says, voice stern, forcing him to believe it, or even herself.
“No, you– you don’t know her like I do, you don’t.” He states, hand already on the door knob of the computer lab.
“So stay out of it.” He says, tone completely different to how he normally is, that defensive wall coming up, shielding him from this– this accusation.
She opens her mouth to speak but closes it when he opens the door to the lab, moving past her.
“Yo—are you good?” Jake asks, watching as Heeseung powers off the computer, tossing his stuff in his bag.
“Im fine. Something came up.” he says, not bothering to look up.
“Heeseung–” Jake starts, confused as his friend walks out without saying another word.
-
There's no way any of it is true, I mean– you out of all people, using him, Heeseung, the guy who is described as some loser-nerd who plays video games all day and apparently “can’t get any pussy” according to Jake. At least that's who he's known as to everyone else, but with you it felt different.
So It can’t be true. Why would you even use someone like him! It makes no sense, you wouldn’t do that– not for your own benefit, not to make yourself feel better, not because you were bored or needed an ego boost from a guy who would clearly do anything for you. Including spending extra hours way past the limit making sure you passed one of the most challenging classes.
You were the first girl to give him a blowjob for fucks sake!
First girl who even let him get close enough to actually eat your pussy– which he still can’t believe happened and replays constantly in his mind.
You care about him, you do!– or is he imaging it all?
Is this really just some sick mind game– are you playing him? Is what Clair said really true?
No– he can’t let these thoughts cloud his mind, because he likes you, probably more than like honestly, but you like him too right?
I mean, how could you let someone get so close to you without actually liking them, right?
He's spiraling, like actually going insane. Now that these thoughts are in his head he cant get them out–
Is this the reason why everything between you two is in private?
No, don’t connect the dots, don’t assume. God– why is he here right now, and why is he so damn nervous.
No, right tutoring—that's his purpose right now, being your tutor.
His hand hovers over your door before knocking.
“Hey—come in, I just got back from Yunjin’s, and I picked up a little something on my way back,” You say, opening the door and walking back to your kitchen.
He nods before removing his shoes and following you, setting his bag on the island stool.
“It smells really good, are you cooking?” He asks, watching as you squat down to look inside of your oven, trying hard not to watch the way your shorts easily ride up, your ass slightly peaking out from the movement.
He swallows before looking away, eyes landing on the bag on the counter.
“Mhm, I've been trying new stuff ever since I made that pasta for you, I made something for Sunoo the other day and he actually said it was good, like no bullshit.” You say, still looking at what's in the oven.
“This time, I tried making these like red velvet cheesecake cookies,”
He nods, but speaks up “Well uh, it smells good”
You turn around to look at him, tilting your head “Yeah, you said that” he swallows sudden dryness in his throat.
“Right..” You shake your head before turning off the timer and taking the cookies out of the oven,
“Okay, they have to cool down and stuff for like..” You check your phone, scrolling, “..only ten minutes,” You look up at him, smiling.
His eyes fall to the bag on the counter, and yours follow his.
“Right! Okay, so I know you really like Toy Story and all that but also Ramen– like I saw your ramen cabinet at your place and was honestly shocked, but..”
He tilts his head curiously watching as you pull the packets out of the bag,
“Apparently it's some seasonal thing, but I just thought you would like it because buzz lightyears face is literally on it–” You say through a laugh, showing him the Ramen pack.
He smiles—genuinely, something close to guilt pinging in his chest as he takes it from you.
“T-this, this is really nice of you” He mutters, looking at you. “It's nothing, really” You say, knowing damn well you nearly chased a worker down at the store in order to get the last pack of them from the back.
“Thank you,” He whispers, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close.
You pause for a moment, before wrapping your own arms around him, one of your hands running through his hair.
“Okay, okay– weren't you the one who insisted that we actually study this time.” You say, peeling back.
He chuckles, hand rubbing the back of his neck, “Right– um, sorry.”
“It’s okay Hee, I'm just glad you like it..” You say, hand pulling him closer by his waistband, his breath catches in his throat.
“Want a cookie?” you ask, tilting your head, batting your eyelashes innocently at him, in that way you were just looking at him the last time you got on your knees for him.
“Cookie?” He questions, voice shaky– “Yes, the cookies I just made” You add, as if you’re not the very reason his brain is short circuiting.
He makes a noise when your hand trails lower, lightly cupping the half hard length of him inside of his sweatpants.
He nods and you offer a squeeze before peeling your hand back.
He whimpers at the loss, hand reaching out to steady himself on the counter.
“Okay,” You say sweetly, moving back towards the oven. He shakes his head, trying to get rid of any irrational thoughts right now–
he's here to study, and study only.
And he's not going to let those feelings of doubt cloud his mind either, because it's not true, nothing Clair said is true
…right?
“..and they just kept on asking, but I told them I couldn’t– and that you literally hate parties.” You continue, not paying attention to the work in front of you at all.
He just nods, sort of regretting agreeing to your 10 minute “brain break” idea.
He’s tried to avoid looking at you this whole time– because fuck–you look good.
“I mean, I don’t hate them..” He mumbles, picking at the eraser of his pencil.
“Okay, but you don’t want to go to one, right?” You ask, legs swung over his lap.
“I wouldn’t mind if it was with you though– I like spending time with you..” He clears his throat “..so I’d be willing to go through that if it means I can be with you” He says, looking at you.
“Thats cute,” You note, watching the way his ears flush– still the same as when he first met you.
“I like spending time with you too, Hee” You smile, sitting up.
“But I really don’t feel like studying right now..” You whisper, leaning in close, lips ghosting just over his.
“Maybe..” He visibly swallows, “Maybe we can..extend the break then?”
You hum in response, swinging one of your legs over his to straddle his thigh, his hands settle on your hips, grabbing onto the soft flesh.
“Y/n–” You silence his words in a kiss, hands resting on his chest, pulling the fabric of his shirt closer.
He moans into your mouth, you take the opportunity to slip your tongue in, him mirroring the action the same way he tried to do last time, but better—you pull back to catch your breath but he doesn't let that last for long, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you back onto his lips, earning a surprised gasp from you.
You experimentally roll your hips against his thigh, the friction of his sweatpants against your shorts making you even wetter.
His hands roam up and down your back, wanting to feel all at once. You take the opportunity to slip your hand from his chest, palming him over his sweatpants– his cock already hard, desperate, and craving your touch.
“Y/n..” He breathes against your lips, you move your hand to slip it into his waistband—
“Wait– y/n.. Hold on–” He whispers, even as his body leans into the touch.
You respond by kissing just below his jaw, he tilts his head giving you more access,
“Hmm?” you hum in response, “I need–” He lets out a low sound when you suck on the most sensitive part of his neck—his adams apple.
“I need to ask you something..” He breathes out “...first–” You bring your hand lower, just under the elastic of his briefs before his hand leaves your hip and stops it.
“It– it’s important, I just need to say it–” your lips ghost over his neck, “It’s something Clair told me I–” You pause over his neck, pulling back to look down at him,
“Clair?” You question, retracting your hand from his waistband to rest back on his chest.
He nods, “Yeah– you met her at that party, she’s one of my…friends”
You roll your eyes, “What did she say?” You question, licking your lips.
“I just need to know that it’s not true—I told her it was ridiculous and that she was lying, but I need you to tell me–” he blinks once, trying to gather the words.
“Okay..” You say, an anxious feeling bubbling in your chest.
He breathes out once, “She—she told me you were um.. Using me? Which I don’t know what you would use me for I mean– look at you, what could you possibly use me for you know?..”
He continues, not quite looking at you, “She uh said.. That she overheard you talking with your friends– that it was some ego boosting game?” He questions, “I don’t know– I just, it can’t be true right? You wouldn’t use the way I feel to feed into that–” You swallow, your breath catching in your throat
“Y-you wouldn't do that, you wouldn't play me–we have something, right? Y/n–” His chest rises and falls, waiting for you to respond– waiting for you to deny it, fuck just say something, anything.
But that's not true– is it? Is that what you were doing the whole time and you were completely unaware, or maybe a part of you was aware of it– liked it even.
But Heeseung cares about you, he likes you, not just the front you put up, but he likes you.
This Clair girl– she completely is twisting your words, putting these thoughts in Heeseungs mind– you knew she liked him, but doing this, fuck you can’t even think straight because a part of it almost does feel real
“Y/n?” He questions, voice shaky. “T-thats not what this is right?” He asks, searching your face for something to tell him that Clair was lying.
You open your mouth to speak– but close it when nothing comes out.
“Please tell me it’s not true..” He breathes out, throat dry.
“Hee–” You start but his hands fall from your hips, he shifts to stand up, leaving you sitting on the couch, legs draped in an awkward position, shorts ridden up–
“I can’t believe I let myself actually think–” He runs a hand through his hair “..that a girl like you could like me– fuck, im pathetic.” he whispers to himself, he can’t even bring himself to look at you.
“Y-you’re not pathetic Heeseung–” Your voice cracks
“No, I am–im an idiot for actually– I should have known.” He reaches down, grabbing his notebook and pencils from the coffee table.
“Let me explain Hee.. s-she’s not telling the..” He shoves his stuff in his bag, ears ringing– he needs to get out of here right now.
He's already humiliated, crying in front of you would just make it worse.
“No. because you couldn’t even deny it when I asked y/n– you couldn’t even make up a lie or anything.” He says, now fully looking at you.
“I..I can’t do this. I can’t be here right now” He says, voice breaking. You stand up, reaching out for him but he steps back.
because if you touch him right now, he'll completely break, right here on your living room floor.
“Don’t go Hee– don’t.. let me explain,” You don’t even care for the way your eyes blur from the tears threatening to fall
He looks away, he can’t see you like this.
“You don’t have to worry about your reputation or what people think anymore…I—don’t make me feel any more stupid then I already do..please.” He whispers, lips trembling, you lower your hand to your side, watching him as he walks out, not even slamming the door behind him—instead, shutting it gently, and somehow it feels even worse.
-
He's avoiding you.
He's been avoiding you for the past few days–like actually, no staring at you when you two happen to be in the same room, no random pictures from him showing you the newest addition to his figure collection, nothing.
Just radio silence.
Sunoo and Yunjin both give each other a look as you pick at your food with your fork,
“Babes..you haven’t actually eaten your food this whole time.” Yunjin says, drawing your eyes up to her.
You blink once, pushing your designer sunglasses up your nose– a weak attempt in masking how puffy your eyes are.
“Not hungry” You mumble, continuing to poke at your food. “You just said you were craving it–” Sunoo says, watching you with an almost unbelieving look.
“Guess I was wrong” You sigh, picking up the tray. “Where are you going?” Yunjin asks, brow raised. “I’m just going to find something at home. I’ll see you guys later” You say, attempting to offer that smile of yours before leaving.
You open your small pantry, looking for something, when your eyes land on it, the ramen– the specifically designed buzz light year ones that you got for him. Sitting on the shelf, unopened.
Oh he's pathetic huh? You reach in, grabbing it to make something you’ll actually eat.
Don’t do it.
Don’t open the messages app. Don’t click on his contact, and definitely do not type a message to send.
You: Hey, are we still on for tutoring tomorrow?
This is probably why you should have stayed with Yunjin and Sunoo. You swipe out of the messages, pretending to scroll through social media as you wait for a reply, taking another bite of the surprisingly good ramen. Fuck—he really does know his stuff.
You swipe back into the messages, watching as the bubbles show up, just to disappear, then show up again.
Hee: I can’t, but I’ll set you up with someone else instead
Someone else? Is he serious right now?
You: Is this a joke?
Hee: Im sorry
Hee: I have things to work on myself
There he goes, still apologizing.
You: you can’t even face me? Heeseung seriously?
You: can we meet up?
You: let me explain
Hee: Im sorry y/n, im busy
Hee: You’ll get an email of who you will be assigned to
You: I don’t want to be assigned to anyone else
You: I’m not going I don’t care
Hee: How will you keep your grade up then?
You: maybe with you tutoring me?
Hee: Y/n, I can’t.
Hee: I’m sorry but I just can’t be around you right now
You: Im not going unless its you
Hee: I have to go
Hee: I'm sorry, good luck
“Fucking hell–” You whisper to yourself, setting your phone face down on the counter. Why does it feel like someone is squeezing your heart right now– A dry laugh leaves your throat, void of any amusement.
You swore to yourself, you swore you wouldn't let a boy out of all things make you feel this way.
But low and behold, Lee fucking Heeseung is the one to have you feeling like this on a Wednesday afternoon.
Or maybe it's yourself, maybe it really is your fault, maybe you even deserve this.
-
“Uh– what are you doing here?” Jake asks, walking into his and Heeseung's shared apartment.
“Working on the code for my game,” Heeseung answers, not bothering to look up.
“Oh so you’re not watching porn?” Jake asks sarcastically, grabbing water from the fridge.
Heeseung looks up, “Dude– what?”
Jake rolls his eyes, “Im fucking with you, but seriously you’ve been acting weird for the past week. It’s starting to freak me out.” He says, coming around the kitchen counter to look at Heeseung's computer.
“And for the first time in like–forever, you’re here on a Thursday, aren’t you supposed to be tutoring too–” Jake starts,
"I'm not doing it anymore.” This time Jake actually pauses, “Like, not tutoring y/n– The y/n, like the sane girl you’re obsessed with?” He questions, unbelieving.
“Everyone was right about her. A girl like her wouldn't actually be interested in me. I should have listened but I was stupid, and.. And greedy.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “And I treated Clair like shit over it– I called her a liar, Im an asshole.” Heeseung swears, shutting his computer and rubbing his hand over his face.
“Clair huh?” Jake says, sitting down. “Y’know, she actually asked me if you were going to that party tomorrow.”
Heeseung looks up, “What’d you say?”
“I said you hated parties, but I’d still mention it because I know damn well being in here, sulking isn’t going to help at all.” Jake admits, standing up.
“And you kind of look like shit right now– how many hours of sleep did you get last night anyway–” he starts, observing his face.
Heeseung looks away, “Fine, ill go. But the second I hate it I'm leaving and coming back here to play league.” He says, crossing his arms.
“Yeah, yeah– I'll just make sure you don’t hate it.” He says, a too proud smirk on his face.
-
Jake claps him on the shoulder too hard, “Loosen up man, it’s friday–” Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, looking around at the sea of bodies all together in some frat house.
“Yeah, a friday I could be spending getting my rank in league higher. y’know people actually get paid sometimes for it–” Jake gapes at him,
“See, this is why we needed to get you out. Look–I love that game and all, but you need to live a little, especially after the shit that went down with you know who.” He makes a face at the last words.
Heeseung pauses, “Wait– you don’t think she's gonna be here tonight.. Right?” He swallows, looking around–scanning the crowd.
“Don’t worry about her, just get a drink– plus, im pretty sure Clair was looking for you..”
Panic bubbles in his chest, “I feel like I shouldn’t talk to her– I mean she probably doesn't even want to talk to me.” Heeseung says, rambling on as Jake guides him to the makeshift bar in the kitchen.
Jake just nods along, pouring himself and Heeseung a drink and handing it to him.
“Whats this?” Heesueng asks, smelling the contents in the cup. “Something that will make you a whole lot less anxious,” Jake says through a laugh.
Heeseung swallows, throat dry– maybe this is what he needs, a break. Something to help him disassociate from his brain for a little bit, get away from the overthinking.
He takes the cup without another word, downing whatever his friend put together. “Alright– that works too.” Jake says, sipping his own drink.
And that's how Heeseung got here now, oversized hoodie discarded somewhere in the house, laughing with Jake and some guys he introduced him to.
Actually sort of fitting in, and this time he doesn’t feel like some outsider. What would you think though? Seeing him like this– in a world you're so familiar with.
Even though the music is loud, the room a bit crowded, the crisp night air from outside lingering in, doing little to mask the smell of alcohol and sweat, they looked..relaxed.
“You ever smoked before?” Sunghoon, the tall guy who he can now put a name to says, taking the joint from Jakes fingers.
He hesitates for a second, Jake glancing at him giving him that questioning look, “Not really.” Heeseung admits, Sunghoon nods,
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He says casually, “This shits pretty strong—my boy Jay got it for us,” Sunghoon says, nudging his friend's shoulder.
Heeseung exhales, looking around the room once again, this is his choice– “Nah, its fine” Heeseung says, reaching out for it “I’ll try it.”
Jake's eyebrows raise at that “Hell yeah, this is what I meant by loosening up man,”
“Just don’t–” Jake says too late, the first inhale is a mistake, his throat burns, he turns away immediately as his friends start laughing “-rush.”
“Im fine–” Heeseung manages to say in between coughs “Im good– it’s good.”
“You sure? You look like you’re dying–” Jay says with a grin on his face. “I’m not dying– it’s just, strong.” Heeseung says, “That's how y’know it's good.” Jay adds, He hands it back to Sunghoon, shaking his head to reset himself.
He takes another sip of his drink, the alcohol already helping with making things feel lighter, “..I don’t really feel anything.” He says, leaning over to Jake. “Give it a second,” His friend says with a smirk.
And then he feels the shift, not all at once– but just enough to know that they weren't lying when they said it was strong.
The loud rap song on the speaker fades, like it's further away now. His shoulders relax as he exhales slowly, “..damn.” Heeseung mutters, “What?” Jake whispers.
Heeseung cracks a smile, subtle. “Nothing. I just– it–” He blinks once, he can’t put it into words, but somehow everything does feel lighter. Like the tension that's been in his body for the past week is just..gone.
“You good?” Sunghoon asks, an amused grin on his face. “Yeah,” Heeseung nods, leaning back against the wall. “I’m good.”
“Heeseung?” His eyes follow the voice, Clair.
“Oh, hey–” He says, turning his attention towards her rather than the group, earning a side eye from Jake before he goes back to talking.
“You made it..” She says, almost sounding relieved. “Yeah, I uh– look,” He breathes, “I wanted to apologize for how I acted the other day, because you–” He looks down at his feet, “I think you were right, and I shouldn't have–”
She interrupts him “Its fine Heeseung, I forgive you.” Something flashes in her eyes, “I’m just glad we don’t have to worry about her anymore,” She says, smiling up at him.
Worry about her? He questions to himself, but shakes his head–mind already fuzzy.
“Babe, you don’t have to worry. Use tonight to finally relax, you love parties remember?” Yunjin says, smile bright on her face. Sunoo checks his reflection in his phone camera as you three approach said party.
“I don’t know– I really feel like I need to think about the stuff with Heeseung, he's probably sitting at home alone, I just feel bad and I never got the chance to tell him–” You continue on as you enter the house.
Sunoo cuts you off, “I don’t think you have much to worry about.” Your eyes follow his, landing on Heeseung.
Laughing with a group, drink in hand, and none other than that fucking girl who can’t keep your name out of her mouth–practially glued to his side. You feel the heat rush to your face, “Shit–” Yunjin says, giving Sunoo a look, he shrugs.
“Y/n, we can leave now if you want–” She starts, giving you a worried look,
“No,” You say bluntly, grabbing yourself a drink. “I’d seriously rather not,” You watch as he runs a hand through his hair, laughing at something Sunghoon said.
“We should say Hi,” You look at Sunoo and Yunjin, smiling. Except it doesn't quite meet your eyes. “Are you sure that's a good idea–” Sunoo says through a laugh, “Okay, nevermind she's going.”
“Look who finally decided to show her pretty face,” One of the guys says, you don’t even know who it is, because all you’re focused on is Heeseung’s face when he sees you.
Yunjin and Sunoo come behind you, greeting everyone else. You haven't even looked at Clair once, no point in wasting time on a liar like her.
Your eyes land on the joint in between his fingers that Sunghoon just passed him, “You smoke now?” You ask, tilting your head. His eyes travel back up to your face immediately, not even aware of how obvious he was with it.
“I– No–” You look down at his hand, he swallows, “I just–” You hum in response, lifting his hand on your own, bringing it to your mouth.
His lips fall open slightly as you inhale, slow, practiced, even though you haven't smoked in forever.
“Damn,” One of the guys–presumebly Jay says, watching the scene. Sunoo chuckles, shaking his head knowingly.
“So you like parties now?” You ask, he looks down at your lips, watching as they move– fuck he’s not even listenting right now.
“Huh?” He asks, blinking once. “I asked if you like parties now,” You repeat, ignoring the glare the girl beside him is giving you.
“I mean, I don’t– Jake dragged me here.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. You watch as Clair tugs on the short sleeve of his plain white shirt, you mask the surprise at that–normally it would be some band or animated character on it.
He looks at her for a split second and she leans up to whisper something in his ear.
“What was that?” You ask, “Y/n–” Heeseung starts but Clair interrupts him. “I was saying, you need to leave him alone.” She says, and you scoff– looking at her, Jake's eyes look between the three of you like he can’t believe what's going on. You don’t even care who's looking at this point either.
“He’s a big boy, he can speak for himself.” You say, not sparing her a glance.
“Can you not be such a bitch for like five seconds–” This time he looks at her, already taking a step back,
“Oh, I’m the bitch? I’m not the one who twisted my words into something just so you could be on his good side.” You say, the accusation makes her freeze.
“You don’t deserve him–” She starts,
“Please, stop.” Heeseung says, you look at him–the anxiousness in his slightly red eyes. She still continues, “Stop!” He nearly yells, way louder than intended, his ears going red at the heads that turn.
“Y/n– can we please just..talk outside, maybe?” He asks, you shake your head, a dry chuckle leaving your throat. “You seem pretty occupied Heeseung.” He opens his mouth to speak but closes it when you walk away, disappearing down the same hall your friends wandered off to a little bit before that.
“Fuck..” He whispers to himself, regretting whatever amount he drank, and most of all whatever the fuck he smoked. “I need to–” He pauses, closing his eyes for a second, “-I need to go talk to her, I cant–” He looks down at the girl beside him,
“Is it true?” He asks, genuine hurt in his expression, “Is what true?” She swallows, “You, twisting her words– did you lie to me?” He asks, searching her face for something honest. “I–”
The hesitation is enough.
The next words that leave her mouth are muffled by the sound of the insufferable music playing on the speakers, and overlapping voices of people talking and shouting. He doesn’t even know where he's going, he doesn’t know what he's doing–what he's going to say to you when he sees you, “Y/n?” He shouts, knocking on a closed door, when no one replies he moves on,
He's said the words “Excuse me” and “Sorry” over ten times in the last five minutes, pulling his phone out of his pocket, texting you would make total sense right—dead. Of course his phone is dead right now, out of any time.
This is what he gets for playing geometry dash for the first 30 minutes here.
Who the hell can even afford a house this big anyway while also being a college student. He doesn’t even bother knocking anymore, immediately regretting it when he walks in on a guy who, if he's not mistaken, had two girls in the bed with him, his face going red immediately before yelling a “Shit I-im– Sorry!” and slamming the door shut.
You check yourself in the mirror one more time before opening the door, only to see none other than Lee Heeseung already standing there. Hand reached out to open the door, he brings it back to his side awkwardly, “Hi–” You raise a brow, “Hi.”
Why didn’t he fucking rehearse this? “Did you um– How was the tutoring?” He asks, shifting on his feet.
You chuckle dryly, “I didn’t go.” You say plainly, his face changes to concern. “You need the tutoring though– your grade..”
“And you’re seriously talking to me about tutoring right now?” He shakes his head “Sorry– I’m just..” He sighs, "I'm really nervous right now, I can’t–” He breathes out, “I don’t like how we left things– how I left things.”
“You’ve been avoiding me for days.” You state, trying to keep your voice that steady tone. “I know, I know– it was stupid of me, I shouldn't have–where are you going?” You move past him, “I’m not talking about this in the middle of a house party.”
“Please Y/n–”
“So are you coming or not?” He doesn't hesitate before following after you, looking down at your phone as you send your friends a text he doesn’t have enough time to read. You ignore the looks as you and Heeseung make your way to the front door,
“I shouldn’t have avoided you like that.” He says, falling into step beside you. Cursing himself for forgetting his hoodie, but no way was he going back in there when he had you right here.
When you don’t say anything he continues, “I just– I was confused when you hesitated, when I asked you about the whole thing..” He says quieter, looking at your side profile under the streetlights.
“About me using you?” His steps falter for a moment, “Yeah, that.”
“I honestly think I was an idiot–I mean, expecting you out of all people to actually like a guy like me.” He chuckles at the thought, “Hee–” You pause on the sidewalk, “I–” You look up at him, “I should have been honest with you– I shouldn't have hesitated when I knew it wasn’t true– but I did say some things..”
You watch his face for a reaction “It's just, your attention felt different to me, like you actually liked me, not just the surface level either and I just– I guess I thrived off of it in a way?” You cringe at the idea,
“And I regret it.. I regret it so much Heeseung.” You don’t even register the first tear that slips out until his hand comes up to your face immediately to wipe it away, “Shhh, don’t cry–don’t,” He breaths, retracting his hand– because he doesn’t deserve to touch you.
“I don’t regret anything we did though,” You clarify, looking up at him, he turns away, continuing to walk beside you, “I’m sorry,” He whispers, you look at him confused, "I'm sorry for being a coward, f-for walking out on you.”
“Im sorry for not being honest with you Heeseung– because I like you, a lot. Probably way more than I should, and definitely more than I thought.” You say, a dry chuckle leaving your throat.
“I like your stupidly perfect hair even after you run your hands through it every second– I like how you’re so open about your interests even if some people think it’s weird, I think your toy story fascination is really funny and cute actually, and I like that I can actually be myself around you..”
“I hate that I made you doubt any of that.”
He pauses in front of you, looking past your shoulder at your apartment complex. “Y/n–” He starts, but you shake your head, “You don’t have to reply to me now– ” He takes a step forward
“Look y/n– I really, really want you in my life– I know it might be selfish but I just.. I can’t let you go.” He takes a surprising step closer, “And I understand if you don’t want to–but, can we at least be friends?”
What the fuck?
Friends? Seriously? You just practically poured your heart out, and he’s talking about friends! Did you mis-read the situation?
“Friends?” You ask, searching his face, He nods, waiting for an answer. You close your eyes for a moment before looking at him again, “Okay, friends.”
He lets out a relieved sound before pulling you into an embrace, you’re caught off guard, hands awkwardly at your sides before you lift them slowly to wrap around his body.
“We can put the..stuff that happened in the past too–”
No! A part of you wants to scream, push him back, tell him that's not what you want–that you don’t get jealous over something as stupid as a guy, and yet here you are.
“I.. Okay” You nod against his chest, he pulls back, hands braced on your shoulders, and he’s smiling–actually fucking smiling. “I can walk you up to your apartment–” he starts,
“No,” You quickly say, and yes– because you need a moment to think about what the fuck you’re doing, and because you don’t know what you’ll do if you’re in his presence for another five minutes.
You chuckle awkwardly, “No–Like, I’m fine–really, I can do it myself,” His hands come to his sides, “Okay! um, great” He nods, “Text me when you’re up there then–shit nevermind, my phone kind of died at the party, I was playing geometry dash for like the first thirty–”
He watches your expression “-Sorry, im rambling again– I should probably go.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Heeseung.” You say, bringing his attention back to you, “You’re not going back to the party right?”
He shakes his head immediately, “I was just going to go back to my place anyways– I think I've had enough of the ‘party life’ for one night,” He says through a laugh. you nod, slightly relieved before offering a tight smile, “Good,” he lifts his hand to wave– that awkward one that used to make you cringe, but now, you can’t help but find it adorable. He doesn’t leave until you’re inside of the building.
-
“..No fucking way–” Jake says mid laugh, right in Heeseungs face. “I just– I didn’t know what to do, or say, so that's why I did it.” Heeseung murmurs, running through the code for his game once again.
“Yeah, well it was a stupid move–I mean, you, out of all people, being friends with Y/n.” He laughs again, “Seriously its fucking comedic” Heeseung finally looks up, “Whats that supposed to mean?”
“Dude, im just saying– she’s not the kind of girl you can just be friends with, especially you.” His eyes fall to Heeseung's monitor, “Holy shit– it’s turning out good, you think it’ll be ready by Saturday?” He says, changing the topic.
Heeseung shakes his head, “Yeah I just have to run through it a few more times, It’s still a bit choppy.” Jake chuckles, “Alright, let me know if you need any help– I know im not participating in it professionally and all but I still do this for fun y’know.” Heeseung nods, mind still replaying his other words.
He can totally be friends with you! Who cares if he has had a crush on you for months, who cares if he almost actually had you– like really had you. Friends make sense, obviously. No complicated feelings just–normal, like nothing happened..right?
“Wait,” Jake says, leaning in closer–watching as a new screen pops up, a character model loading in. A little rough around the edges, but it’s the most detailed one he's shown so far.
Heeseung pauses, finger hovering over his mouse, “What–” , “Why does she look familiar?” Jake asks, brow raised.
Heeseung stills for a moment before shrugging, “Nah, she doesn’t” He resorts casually–at least attempting to. “She does.” Jake counters back,
“She’s quite literally just a character,” Heeseung says through a chuckle. “Yeah, with a specific attitude, face—body.” Heeseung rolls his eyes, “You’re reaching right now.”
Jake laughs, standing up, “The hair, really? Pink?” Heeseung looks at his screen again, “It’s just a design choice.” He simply says. “You sure it’s not just a distraction, so people don’t recognize who it actually looks like?”
Heeseung scoffs, “It’s not even based on anyone.” Jake nods, unconvinced, “Right..totally random.” Heeseung squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, “..It’s just a lot easier to design a character when you have a reference,” he mutters quietly.
Jake smirks, “Yeah, and you picked her.” He doesn’t answer that.
“Does she know?” Jake asks skeptically. “Of course she knows!” Heeseung says defensively,
“It was just before the whole..thing happened.” He says, fidgeting with the scroll wheel on his mouse. “Well shit, you can’t change it now–”
Heeseung groans, “Yeah, I gathered that.” He waits for Jake to leave his room before picking up his phone immediately.
Heeseung: hey, sorry if this is random
You: It’s not
Hee: Oh, okay
Hee: Well it's about my game
You: ???
Heeseung: I understand if you don’t feel comfortable with me using you as a model for one of the characters
You: What?
You: Heeseung, I don’t mind
Hee: Are you sure? I don’t want it to be weird or anything
You: Why would it be weird?
You: didn’t we agree on being friends
You: Friends help each other out, yk
Hee: Sorry
Hee: I'm just really tired
Hee: I've been working on this for hours already today
You: :(
You: Can I help in any way
Hee: you still want to help me?
You: Yes lol
Hee: Actually, if you’re not busy right now could you send me a picture of yourself
Hee: Sorry that sounds creepy
Hee: Its for the game, I want to get your features right
God he's pathetic– he has plenty of pictures of you on his phone already. He bites his lip, watching as the bubbles show up, then disappear.
“Fuck–” He whispers, opening the image you sent him. It’s nothing explicit or revealing, its just you– a real time selfie, lying in bed, the warm lighting in your room casting subtle shadows on your face.
You: Is that okay?
Heeseung: Its perfect
Heeseung: the picture is
Heeseung: I mean you are too sorry
Heeseung: but it works
You can’t help the laugh that escapes your throat, imagining his face right now. God–imagine how he’d react to nudes.
You: haha thanks
Hee: would u be okay stopping by the computer lab tmrw? Not for long or anything I don't want to bore you, just because I want to get the finishing touches
You: yeah sure i don’t mind :)
Hee: Thanks y/n, i really appreciate it
You like the message before you say anything stupid–resisting the urge turning the conversation into something you’d probably regret in the morning. Friends, right– that's it. You’re totally fine with that, this is what friends do!
-
This is seriously the one place where you can’t seem to fit in. And of course, it's exactly where Heeseung thrives. You walk down the narrow aisle, once again trying to ignore the looks you get. Heeseung knows you finally came from the way Jake stops speaking and looks behind him slightly shocked.
“Hey,” You smile–or at least attempt to. “Hi,” He says, looking up at you. Band t-shirt, and jeans baggy on his frame in an intentional way.
You stare at each other for a moment, he blinks– “Right– um, you can sit here,” He says, pulling out the empty seat next to him. You nod, setting your bag on the ground.
Jake shakes his head, a smug smile on his face as he continues working. “I didn’t interrupt anything right–”
“No!” Heeseung says a little too loud. “I mean– no, you came perfectly– here, like you came on time.” Jake attempts to stifle a laugh beside him.
He clears his throat, “Sorry, I'm just..stressed, I’ve been preparing this for months and I really don’t want to mess it up.” You nod, “It’s okay Hee, you're like really good at this stuff so im sure its amazing already.” He smiles, genuinely, “Its– I..thanks,”
“I can show you what it looks like so far?” He clicks some buttons you’re not quite sure what they do– “Holy shit,” You watch his screen,
“Heeseung, you made this?” He nods, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, like I said it still needs some more work but I have a few more days.”
“This is like one of those professional games– I honestly don’t really know much about this stuff but this is—legit.” He bites his lip, smile peaking through. “You mean it?” He asks, watching you’re face as you look at his monitor, “Yeah–yeah, I really do,”
“Can I see the character inspired by me?” You ask, nudging his leg with your foot, an action he still can’t find himself getting used to. His finger hovers over the mouse, “Not yet..” You tilt your head,
“I was actually hoping you would–maybe want to come to the event on Saturday?” He visibly swallows, “I just– you don’t have to or anything, I understand if you’re busy but I do really want you there and um, your support means a lot to me,” He says, the last words fading into something only you can hear.
“I’ll be there,” You say, hand coming down to rest on his knee- casually, like it’s normal, which it should be since your uh..friends?
He looks down at your hand, before making eye contact again, “Are you sure– like positive? I don’t want you to feel forced, and you can bring your friends if you want to– actually I don’t know, I don’t want to make a fool of myself..” He rambles on, doing that thing where his words come out faster than his brain can process it.
You laugh, a small sound–he pauses, looking at you again, “I’ll ask them if they can, okay?” He nods, “Don’t stress so much, those gaming CEO guys would be stupid not to invest in something like this,” You say, gesturing to his screen, your hand absent mindedly rubbing small circles on his leg.
His hand comes down to rest on yours, squeezing gently. And in that moment where his skin meets yours– you swear the whole room disappears.
The looks you can sense you’re getting from Clair, the sounds of the other students talking about whatever code–thingy they’re working on. “Thank you, it– it really means a lot to me.”
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, once–twice. “I should probably go, my uh class it’s, yeah.” He retracts his hand quickly, nodding three times,
“Right– yeah, sorry.. I don’t want you to be late or anything.” He chuckles, almost nervously. “Yeah that would be bad huh?” You say, quirking a smile.
“I’ll um, I’ll text you more details about it,” Heeseung mutters, watching you pick up your bag.
“I’ll answer,” You say pushing in the chair, “Y-yeah, see you later y/n–” You smile one more time before leaving, heart racing at a concerning speed- not only because of the interaction but because it was with Heeseung, the guy you told yourself was your friend– the one you were trying so hard to convince over.
“Okay what the hell was that–” Jake says, eyeing his friend, “What was what?” Heeseung questions, chuckling,
“That whole..pathetic act thing.” He says, gesturing to Heeseung. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jake laughs, “Man—it’s just both of you huh?” Heeseung shakes his head before turning back to his monitor.
Yeah, whatever that means, anyways what he really needs to focus on is finishing this up– after all this is probably a once in a lifetime opportunity.
-
Heeseungs been busy all week, specifically with finishing up the programming dynamics– or whatever it was he said.
Yet he still offered to make you a video explaining what was happening in your physics class, mostly because you refused to be tutored by anyone else besides him. A part of him felt prideful when you admitted that actually.
The event was being held in the nicer part of the University, a sort of auditorium type of building.
And yet here he is, in the dimly lit computer lab, trying to make sure everything runs perfectly once again. He can’t afford a fuck up, not when hes been waiting for this for so long.
Jake: dude where are u
Jake: profs looking for u
Jake: u better not be second guessing this
Heeseung: i just wanted to make sure it ran smoothly
Heeseung: im coming back
Jake: hurry up
Jake: y/ns here
Jake: shes asking where you are
Jake: shes walking towards me
Jake: oh shit
“Where's Heeseung?” you ask the boy who you know as Jake, Heeseung's best friend. “Hes uh–” You raise a brow,
“He's in the computer lab, he’s nervous as shit right now and he thinks going through it again is going to help.” You nod, of course he would be.
Jake looks back down at his phone before typing a quick message
Jake: Good luck
You open the door to the computer lab quietly, the only screen on being towards the front of the room, bright in the dim lighting.
Hes standing up, leaning against the desk, wearing a..suit jacket? “Hee?” You question, walking down the row, he turns to you, surprise etched across his features.
“Y/n– you came..” He says, looking down at your outfit for a split second, a short summer dress that compliments you a bit too well, he swallows, hand hovering over the mouse.
“Of course I did,” You reply, now standing in front of him. “You’re..pretty dressed up,” You note with a smile. He looks down at his outfit, “Is it too much? I wanted to wear something that would make them take me seriously– y’know what I mean?” He says, smoothing down the black blazer. “Heeseung.”
His eyes fall on you again, “Yes?” he says quietly. “You look good, okay?” He nods, “Maybe just lose the blazer..” He stifles a laugh “See, I knew it was too much,”
He shakes his head, smile on his face as he unbuttons it, leaving him with a white button up instead. “Better?” He asks, looking for your approval, “Much better.”
His eyes search yours for a moment, “I'm really glad you showed up,” He says, biting his lip out of pure nervous habit, yet you can’t help the way your eyes fall to the action.
You clear your throat, “I brought something for you– I was going to wait till after but maybe it would help cool your nerves.” You say, pulling something out of your bag.
“Okay before you say anything– Sunoo is like really good at finding all this underground stuff and this guy was selling these and I know you were talking about it a few weeks ago..” He tilts his head, amusement spread across his features,
“Who's rambling now?” You roll your eyes, “Shut up and close your eyes or I'm not giving it to you.” He raises his hands instantly, “Alright– alright, sorry,” You grab his hand, placing the box in it.
He chuckles “What is this–” , “Open,” You watch his face, the surprise spreading, “Holy–” He smiles, “Y/n, how did you–” You attempt to hide your own smile, biting your lip.
He looks at the limited addition Toy Story figurine closer, “Do you– do you know how rare this is? Only 500 were made in 1999–”
Right.. Because of course he would know that. He laughs, disbelieving “You’re incredible, seriously–y/n I..” He doesn’t think twice before wrapping his arms around you, you’re caught off guard at first, one of your hands trailing up to run through the back of his hair, his face buried in the crook of your neck.
You don’t know if you’re just feeling things but you swear he planted a small kiss just between your shoulder blade and neck, He pulls back, "I'm really happy you’re here,” He says, turning off the monitor and falling into step beside you.
You watch Heeseung from the crowd, hand clutched tight around the strap of your bag as he talks off to the side–with Clair. Why the hell is she touching his arm– He looks past her shoulder, spotting you in the crowd, a small smile quirking on his lips before he waves. Your face softens before waving back,
“I was talking to the developers and they were describing the concepts they were looking for–Heeseung, your game fits right into it.” Jake says, Clair opens her mouth to say something but Heeseung doesn’t even realize he's blocking it out. “Okay– I can do this.” He nods, smoothing down the front of his button up.
He looks around the room at the people sitting down, a mix of students, professors, people from the Gaming development club. Jake watches the worried expression on his face as his eyes land on the front row, the developers– big time CEO’s with their notebooks out, laptops open. “Hey–you’re good..just don’t pass out,” Jake says with a laugh
“That’s helpful.” Heeseungs mutters, wiping his sweat clad hands on his jeans before stepping onto the wide stage, standing behind the podium.
He takes a deep breath, signaling Jake to put the game on the large screen behind him. “Hi everyone– my name is Heeseung, so..this is my game I developed.”
He tries not to cringe at his own voice, “So, it’s actually more narrative driven rather than pre set choices,” He pauses for a moment, “Whatever decisions the player makes– that's what would affect the character in real time,” He says, his voice carrying a tad bit more enthusiasm.
This is what he knows, this is what he's good at, he picks up the remote on the podium moving onto the next slide, showing the actual game play, the code, what he created on his laptop now being shared in front of a room full of people. “I programmed the system to keep track of the patterns and players choices,”
He's using his hands to exaggerate now–a thing he does when he's truly passionate about something. You can’t help the smile that plays on your face.
He continues, talking about how the games programming, the code, and a few of the developers lean forward, he swallows, trying not to think too deeply.
His character designs come on the screen next, hushed whispers around you, “How does someone even design that–” A guy next to you says, “Look how detailed the one on the left is–” A girl whispers.
He looks at the screen before searching the crowd for you, clearing his throat, “The character designs are actually still in progress but I wanted to focus on them feeling real– throughout the gameplay especially, whether it's a fight scene, a task, you name it.”
Your eyes fall to the developers at the front of the room, nodding, taking notes. It’s silent for a moment until a voice cuts through, one of the developers speaks up, “Walk us through the character tracking system again,” He says– Heeseung nods, this means they're interested,
“Yeah–okay,” You watch Heeseung get into his element, it’s like the room loosens up as he continues, some people from the crowd raising their hands to ask questions, even compliments directly from the developers. But there's still a tightening feeling in your chest, in the way you’re here supporting him–but as nothing more than a friend.
It’s places like these that you’re not really sure what to do, you watch as Heeseung talks to a few other students, low and behold–with Clair by his side. He searches the room for a moment, but is interrupted when a man in a very nice suit comes up to him,
“Lee Heeseung?” He questions, Heeseung nods, “Yes sir, that would be me,” He says with an almost nervous smile on his face, “I wanted to give you my card, your game has potential– I mean that truly, and I think you could go places with creativity like that,” The man says, Heeseung reaches out for the card, looking down at it for a moment, “Wait– EN Capital? This– you’re one of the biggest developers in the country–” Heesueng states, eyes wide,
The man nods, “It’s not everyday we scout someone like this Heeseung, so please, take into consideration giving us a call,”
Heeseung nods, “Sir– yes, I’ll definitely be calling–” He says through a disbelieving chuckle. The man nods with a smile on his face before reaching out to shake Heeseung's hand, “I’m excited to see how you progress.”
Heeseung looks around the large room again, “..fucking genius dude, I swear.” Jake says, the words completely blanking in Heeseung's mind,
“Where's y/n?” He says outloud, Jake raises a brow, “One of the most prestigious gaming developers in the country just told you to quote ‘give him a call’ and you’re wondering where the girl who pretty much broke your heart is?” Jake questions,
Heeseung opens his mouth to speak, but shakes his head, “I need to find her– I invited her,” Heeseung mutters, “She went outside” Jake says, nodding towards the door. Heeseung's eyes follow the motion. “I’ll um.. I’ll be right back” Heeseung mumbles, moving past Jake, “Dude what about–”
Heeseung makes his way out the room, looking around for you“Y/n–” He calls out, you let go of the door you were just about to walk out of, turning towards him,
“Hey,” You say with a smile, “Where are you going?” He asks, walking up to you. “I was going to head back, I didn’t want to like interrupt or anything,”
“You could never,” He says, watching your face, “You seemed pretty occupied though, not just with the developers..” He tilts his head, “Occupied with who?” He tests, searching your eyes,
“I dunno’.. Clair” He smiles, “What?” You say defensively, “No– nothing, nothing,” He says, a laugh escaping his lips.
“It’s just—are you jealous?” He asks, “I..what?” He nods, humming in response. “I’m not—stop laughing!” You say, slapping his arm lightly.
“Heeseung–” You nearly roll your eyes, actually no, you do roll your eyes as Clair approaches him. You watch as people begin to file out of the auditorium. Her eyes land on you for a split second, “We were all gonna go hang out at my place to celebrate and everything, do you wanna–”
“No–” He says too quickly, “I mean– I just, I’m really tired and uh..” He looks at you for a moment, “Im busy” you watch the disappointment across her face.
“Heeseung, if you want to you can..” You say, low enough for him to hear. “No, I want to be with you tonight– I mean right now, like I want to spend time with you” He runs a hand through his hair,
“Look, maybe some other time,” He says to Clair, she scoffs before walking past the both of you. Jake comes up a few moments later, “We’re doing something after if you wanna join, ill text the address,” He says, giving Heeseung his bag, “I’ll let y’know,” Jake shrugs before walking out.
Heeseung turns his full focus back to you “I can walk you back to your place if you would like?” He says, clearing his throat. You nod, “I would like that,”
He smiles before falling into step beside you. “Y’know, I’m really happy you came tonight– I know I said it already but you probably don’t go to things like that for fun,” He says through a chuckle
You nod, "I've seen how hard you’ve worked on it Hee, plus its the least I can do for you tutoring me and all,” He glances down at you,
“I think you repaid me enough for the lessons” He pauses, “Like- with your kindness not the–” He closes his eyes for a moment, ”Not the other thing– even though yes it was definitely good, I mean I still think about..” He stops, “Sorry—fuck, Y/n please just tell me to shut up.” He cringes at his words,
You can’t help the smile that plays on your face, “Why? It’s kind of cute”
Thank god you don’t look up to notice the embarrassing shade of red his ears are right now. He pauses once he gets in front of your building, hands awkwardly in the pockets of his jeans. “So….”
“Do you want to come in?” You ask abruptly, catching him off guard. “L-like inside your apartment?” He asks, unsure.
You nod once, “Just like—I have that ramen, the one with buzz lightyear on it.”
Your hand tightens around the strap of your bag. “..I honestly thought you would have gotten rid of that” He says, searching your face. You shake your head, “I couldn't," You say quietly, and a little bit more shy than intended. “Okay– um, yeah I would love to come in then,” He nods, following you.
And he means it when he says he’ll never get over the way it smells exactly like you in here. He takes off his dress shoes, placing them neatly against your wall by the front door, next to your platformed sandals that you kicked off casually.
He leans against your counter as you reach up into your cabinet, his eyes trying to avoid the way your already short dress rides up even higher on your exposed legs. Your hand pauses mid air before you bring it back down to your side, “Do you need help–”
“Heeseung.” You turn to fully face him, he pauses mid sentence, “Yea–Yeah?” He questions, clearing his throat. “Are we seriously about to make ramen right now?” He rubs the back of his neck “I mean-I thought that's what we were doing..” His words catch in his throat when you close the distance.
His eyes fall to your lips and you smirk, “What are you thinking about right now then?” He visibly swallows, licking his own lips instinctively
“Just how good they would taste–” He blinks once, “..The ramen—how good the ramen would taste.” He says, clearing his throat. You hum in response, eyes dropping just below his waistband, he catches that easily. “Yeah? Just the ramen huh?” You say, that familiar teasing tone in your voice that he hasn’t heard for far too long.
“I– What are you doing..” He breathes out, trying to calm the rapid pace of his heartbeat even as you step closer, “You haven’t thought about this– about us recently?” You tilt your head, watching his face for a reaction.
“Of course I have!” He says quickly, “I– y/n it’s all I could fucking think about, just you, touching me, talking to me–like actually telling me about things..” He lets out a chuckle, almost disbelieving, like he wasn’t planning on admitting this, which to be fair he wasn't.
“Do you know how long I've wanted you?” He asks, you nod “Since the tutoring–” He shakes his head, a small smile on his lips,
“No, econ, 4th row. You were wearing that long sleeve and jeans that fit you perfectly, and I remember you had asked me if I always talk like my brain moved too fast,” He laughs at the memory, “...and you had said almost every day,” you finish for him.
“I know you try to be perfect y/n– I know the expectations you have for yourself, and I know that it leaves no room to actually breathe,” He doesn’t know where this is coming from– but then again, he always talks before his brain processes what he's saying,
“because I have those same expectations for myself– I mean, I'm not as good at it as you but I do.” He sighs, “But when I'm with you– it's different and I guess I was hoping it was the same for you–”
His words are immediately cut off when your lips press against his, your right hand pulling at the collar of his shirt. His eyes flutter shut, melting into you completely, his hands are hesitant–unsure as they come to rest on your waist. You don't pull back far, just enough to whisper “it is the same for me Hee– I always felt it I just.. I guess I didn’t think I deserved it.”
He presses a small kiss to the corner of your lips, “Well if it means something– I think you do..” you laugh softly, raking your other hand through his soft hair.
“You still want that ramen?” You ask teasingly, he shakes his head quickly “No–no definitely not I want this, here,” He says confidently, you tilt your head, your hand that was on his collar moving lower skimming over his toned chest, cupping the firm bulge of him through his jeans. His eyebrows furrow together at the contact, “Hee, don’t tell me you’re hard just from a little kiss?” You say with a smirk,
He shakes his head, eyes shutting for a moment, “I can’t help it–” He whispers pathetically. You squeeze the bulge and his mouth falls open,
“Gosh.. I seriously don’t understand how you just walk around with a dick this big everyday like it’s nothing,” his face reddens at how filthy your words are.
“Feel how bad I want you right now,” You say, grabbing his hand from your waist, he complies, letting you guide his hand between your legs, he lets out a broken sound when his palm fully cups you.
You grind down on his palm once, his dick throbs at the contact–the way he can feel you soaking through the thin fabric of your underwear. You hike your dress up so you can move your underwear to the side, exposing yourself to him completely, “Fuck–” He curses, his finger tips brushing through your folds experimentally. You moan at the contact– uncontrolled and all for him,
“Just like that– Hee..” You brace your hands on his shoulders when his fingertip grazes your clit, “Right there?” He asks curiously, a part of him needing to get this right because he needs to make you feel good.
You nod, biting your lip when he experimentally squeezes your clit between his index and middle finger, making you even more wet,
He chuckles, “It's– it’s kind of hard because it's so wet” He notes, the pad of his finger tips teasing your hole unknowingly.
Your cheeks heat in embarrassment, he notices “I like it” He says, watching your face morph into pleasure, “Why—why are you so good at this?” You breathe out,
“I use my fingers a lot—for like typing and stuff, coding y’know?” You moan when the tip of his middle finger enters your hole cautiously, his eyebrows raise. “Y-yeah right”
He repeats the motion, this time using the opportunity to push deeper, you clench around his fingers and he feels his cock throb inside of his jeans, “its so…warm” He notes, “Try curling your finger–” Your words fade into a whimper when he does exactly that,
“Hee..Heeseung–wait,” He repeats the motion again, brushing inside of you with each curl of his slender finger.
“Not here–” You breathe out, your grip tightening on his shoulder. “Your room?” He questions, inching his finger out, you nod,
“…you’re so pretty” He says sitting on the edge of your bed, “Yeah?” You ask, watching him move back until he's against your pillows. “What do you want, Heeseung?” He swallows, "Whatever you give me honestly–”
“Ever had a girl ride you?” You ask, climbing on the bed with him, legs tucked under you as you settle between his legs. He shakes his head a bead of sweat forming just above his eyebrow.
“I kind of like that I'm the only one who's seen you like this,” You say, finger tracing innocent circles on his thigh. “I like it that way” He admits, avoiding looking down at the embarrassing way his dick twitches at the featherlight touches his thigh.
“Cute,” You say with a sweet smile, opposite of the way your fingers make contact with the buttons on his shirt. You remove it with ease, the slightly sharp tip of your nail sending heat straight to his dick as you trace his abdomen.
You lean down, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest, his hands grip into the sheets of his bed when your tongue ghosts over his nipple, “Fuck– y/n..I can’t–” His hips buck forward, searching for any form of friction
“Ive been wanting you inside me for so long Hee,” His eyes roll when your hand comes in contact with his cock, even through the jeans you can feel the heat of him. “Wanna feel you so bad– I need it..I can’t–” He whines, you sit up, watching as he frantically works to take off his jeans.
You move from between his legs, pulling the straps of your dress down, letting it fall limply to the floor. His own hand palms his cock through his boxers when he sees you’re not even wearing a fucking bra.
“Please–can I?” He asks, watching as you climb back on top of him. You chuckle “Acting like you’ve never seen my tits before Heeseung,”
“Been too long–” He says desperately, his hand hesitating, looking at you for approval before he touches you. You nod and both of his hands immediately cup your breasts. He’s almost massaging them in his hands, “I- I can’t believe you’re letting me do this..” He whispers, thumb swiping over your nipples, you grind down once against him and his movements falter–
“I’ll cum if you keep doing t-that” He regrets admitting that when you do it again, drawing a wrecked sound from him. His ears heat up in embarrassment at how loud he is, Your hand comes up to his cheek, “Don’t be embarrassed Hee– I love when you’re vocal for me,” He leans into the way you touch his face, the action making you feel even more warm inside.
His eyes don’t leave yours as he presses a kiss directly to your nipple, his thumb working the other one. He’s not quite sure what he's doing– this just feels right. His tongue darts out, slightly unsure, licking just around the sensitive bud. “H-Hee..” Your hand moves to his hair, raking through the soft strands, pulling him closer.
“I want this so bad..” He whispers, eyes fluttering shut when he sucks on your nipple. You hiss when his teeth graze it, tugging his hair, he groans at the pull. He alternates to the other side, not wanting to leave a single part of your body untouched. “I could do this forever– I swear I could,” You grind your hips down harder against him, “D-don’t–” He whimpers, looking up at you.
Instead, you lean down to kiss him, moving your hips in a back and forward motion, the tip of his dick hitting you perfectly through the thin fabric of your underwear. “Gonna cum?” You ask between kisses, he nods frantically, tongue darting out, begging for entry back into your mouth.
You pull away and he whines, hand glued to your chest. You shake your head with a smile before reaching for the waistband of his boxers, you peel them off, revealing his flushed cock, now resting heavy on his pelvis, precum already drooling down. You lick your lips, already moving to slide off your own underwear.
He's watching in awe– because you are actually in front of him right now– naked, practically fucking glowing. When you wrap your hand around the base, he automatically thrusts up, easy to do with how wet it is. “Needy much?” You tease, moving your hand up slowly, thumb swiping over the tip, causing another drop of precum to leak, making a further mess on your hand.
“I c-can’t help it..” He mutters out, cheeks flushed, hair sticking to his forehead, chest glistening with a thin layer of sweat already. You hover over him, angling the tip of his cock, you swipe it through your folds once–twice, mixing both of your arousal together, the warmth already draws a moan from him. “W-wait..” He says, hand reaching for your wrist.
You pause, looking at him, “Don’t we need a– um.. Condom?” You tilt your head, amusement on your face, “I’m on the pill Hee, plus I want you to cum inside of me.” You’re going to kill him, like he’s actually going to pass out right now.
You position his tip just before your entrance, before sinking down. The stretch is almost immediate, your pussy greedily sucking him in. “Oh my God–” His eyes flutter shut, hands reaching out to hold onto your hips. “Y-you’re so big Heeseung–” You’re already clenching around him, his hips involuntarily thrust up and you whimper,
“Shit–sorry, y/n..oh—” You sink down further, completely enveloping his thick cock inside of you. Your hands are braced against his chest now, “A-are you okay?” He asks, voice rough. You laugh lightly causing you to clench tightly around him. You experimentally grind your hips forward, both of your moans mixing together.
His hands wander, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass as you grind against him. He nearly chokes on air when you lift yourself up halfway just to slam back down against him, his finger digging deeper into your hips– “Y/n– wait!” You repeat the movement and thats when you feel it– warmth inside of you.
His eyes are wide in worry– “I-Im sorry.. Im sorry–please” a whimper leaving his lips as cum leaks from his still hard dick. “Shhh.. it’s okay Hee,” He shakes his head, “I promise I can go longer– I just need to practice more” He tries to convince you, but you’re already set on making him cum again.
You lean back, spreading your legs wider, hands splayed behind you on his thighs to support yourself. You lift your hips, causing his cum to leak out of you and trickle down his length, making an even bigger mess. It’s so messy but he could care less,
His cum acts as lube, allowing you to move even more smoothly, the sounds coming from the both of you are borderline pornographic, the wet skin on skin every time you slam your hips back down against his.
Your mouth hangs open, desperate moans escaping as you bounce on his dick, “Heeseung–” You cry out, grinding against him, the tip of his cock hitting just right inside of you, “You look so pretty right now–” He says through a needy whine, his eyes don’t know what to focus on– the way your tits move each time you grind forward, your face, or where you two connect right now.
He tries something– moving his finger from your hip, applying pressure to your puffy clit instead, your hips jerk forward, pussy clamping tight around him. The rhythm you had moments ago falters, replaced by desperate grinds against him as you chase your orgasm, his thumb rubs small circles on your sensitive bud, “I’m gonna cum Hee– I can’t” You cry out, leaning forward again, bracing your hands on his chest “Yes– fuck, please use me–” His thumb still works, his own hips attempting to thrust up, your nails scratch at his chest as a new wave of pleasure crashes over you.
He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your jaw, his dick throbbing inside of your warmth, your juices leaking down, covering his balls and making a mess on your sheets. His hands travel from your hair, smoothing it down to your back, “I’m gonna’ cum again–please?” He says, looking up at you. His dick twitches inside of you when you nod, his hands cup your ass in his hands, lifting you slightly– again, he’s trying to find his rhythm here too, contemplating if this is right, but it feels amazing.
He thrusts up once, earning a surprised gasp from you, he could fucking explode with the way your tits bounce in his face, the wet sounds filling your room contrast with both of your moans, his fading into whimpers as his hips move faster, almost using your hole as his own fuck toy. He captures one of your nipples in his mouth, his sounds muffled around the sensitive bud, the vibration sending shockwaves straight to your core.
“S-slow down–Hee.. Shit!” He's practically drilling into you, completely lost in the feeling of you, the sounds you're making–your face driving him even more. He pulls you down against him each time his hips lift forward, his tongue licking at your chest desperately. His grip on you is bruising as he delivers one final thrust–deep, the feeling of his cum spilling inside of you, driving your second orgasm, your pussy milking him dry as your own juices mix with his.
His hands move from your ass to your waist, resting gently, soothing your sides as you both catch your breath. “That–that was..” Heeseung says, “Yeah,” You breathe, fingers running lazily through his soft hair.
Eventually you two muster the strength to get up, your sensitive bodies still tingling with the nerves of pretty much the best sex you’ve ever had.
You watch him closely as he reaches for a soft tissue from the pink box on your nightstand, he may be inexperienced in this field but he's not an idiot. “Is this okay?” He asks, cleaning you up– you nod,
“Are you okay?” He looks up at you for a second, “I–” he takes a deep breath before continuing “I don’t want this to be casual,” He says, eyes focused on gently swiping the tissue. Your face softens, “I don’t want it to be like before with the whole ‘favor for tutoring’ thing– I like you, really like you– if you couldn’t tell..” He bites his lip nervously,
“Is this your way of asking to be my boyfriend Lee Heeseung?” This time he looks up, “You would let me?” he asks, a sparkle of hope in his eyes, “I– this isn’t how I wanted to ask you, I need to get you flowers and—and a date,” He runs his hand through his slightly damp hair, you let out a small laugh,
“Calm down Hee, I really like you too,” You say through a smile. “..and yeah, I would let you..” He mirrors your smile, relief on his face as you pull him down—because being here, tangled with you, is exactly where he wants to be
-
Bonus
Heeseung would normally be spending his Friday night in his room, probably waiting for league to load in while he scrolls through the most random twitter threads. But being with you allows him to.. Step out of his shell more, even if it is involuntarily.
What was supposed to be a small hangout that consisted of a few of your friends and probably Jake to celebrate finals week ending, had turned into a big gathering at your local Korean BBQ place. Jake being Jake decided to invite nearly everyone from class after raving about how they “changed the menu”.
His eyes stray to you, laughing at something that Sunoo said, Yunjin on the other side of him playfully shoving him. “..Hey, i’m headed out” Clair says, walking over to where Heeseung stands. You watch as she…hugs him. His hand awkwardly pats her back and you swear you could throw the chopsticks in your hand at her stupid face. “Bye everyone!” She says with a bright smile, you roll your eyes, watching as she leaves.
Yunjin and Sunoo exchange a look, “Don’t kill her,” Sunoo says, laughing nervously. “Never said I would.” You mutter glancing at Heeseung, he offers a small wave, smile on his face. You scrunch your nose in a mocking way before turning back to your friends.
Fuck.
“…yeah, well your face says it all,” Yunjin adds, amusement in her tone. “I don’t even care,” Sunoo laughs, earning a glare from you. “Yeah–right, are you gonna eat that?” He asks pointing to the three bites of food on your plate, you scoot it away from him, “Now I am,” You say with a smug smirk, earning a laugh from Yunjin.
You try– you really do, you know jealousy is something you need to work on, but no you’re not jealous right now, totally not at all!
Heeseung looks at you every few minutes– maybe seconds, there's no way you’re upset over a..farewell goodbye..right?
The walk back to his place is quiet. Not the comfortable silence you enjoy yourself in, but the kind where you can feel the tension. Specifically he can feel it–practically radiating off of you. “Is everything good?” He asks, watching you. When your eyes don't even find his, he swallows, lump in his throat. “It’s fine.”
Well shit, “fine” isn’t exactly what a guy wants to hear, why not “great”, or “fantastic” something so his brain can stop spiraling. You nearly scoff when he pulls out his phone.
He’s pathetic–seriously, he winces before clicking the search bar on twitter: How to get your girlfriend to not be pissed at you
He doesn’t even say anything as you both enter his apartment, you roll your eyes as he walks to his bedroom, sitting at the edge of his bed. “Seriously Heeseung?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. He scrolls one more time before looking up at you with wide eyes, “Baby– hold on a second–” He mutters,
“What are you even looking at?” You ask, attitude leaking through your tone. He shuts his eyes for a moment, “You’re mad at me,” he claims, avoiding eye contact. “And I– I was trying to figure out how to not make you mad at me– it’s stupid and I know it was because of..” , “Clair.” You finish his sentence for him.
He nods, “I don’t even like her– seriously, like the only reason I have to be around her is because of the club and she’s in me and Jungwon's class–” You roll your eyes, “She’s literally obsessed with you– like it’s so fucking annoying everytime and she knows me and you are together.” His eyebrows furrow together, “I know, trust me I know–” He says, pulling you close, arms wrapping around the back of your thighs.
“Well I'm not mad directly at you Hee..” You mumble quietly, he looks up at you, “But you’re still upset” He says, hands unintentionally gripping the back of your thighs. “And how exactly was the internet going to help fix that?” You ask lightly, hand running through his disheveled hair.
“I dunno’ it was stupid..” he mutters, reaching for his phone. He scrolls through the threads, angling it to show you. “Get on your knees and beg?” You chuckle, “I’d do it if you asked,” He says casually, “Flowers?” , “In a heartbeat,” His fingers freeze at the next words, Let her sit on your face. You know he's read it when he looks up at you. Your eyes fall to his lips, then to his nose– that perfect slope. He swallows, Adams apple bobbing. “We haven’t really tried it like…that–” He says, wetting his lips.
“No, we haven't." He nods, slowly. “You said my nose was one of your favorite features about me, remember?” You chuckle lightly, “Of course I remember that.” His hands travel up slowly, casually in a way he’s gotten more comfortable doing ever since you two made it official, his hands ultimately resting on your ass.
“..so, shouldn’t we put it to good use?” He questions, looking up at you expectantly. A smile spreads across your face, “Since when did Lee Heeseung become such a smooth talker?” He bites his lip through a smile, “it’s only for you pretty,”
He's watching you now, eyes zeroed in on your hands as they lift your shirt over your head. Your shorts are next, but he makes a sound when your underwear also comes off with them. Bare. You’re bare in front of him, your face flushing that adorable shade of pink he can’t get enough of.
“C’mere,” You climb onto the bed with him until you're hovering just over his chest. “Heeseung– I don’t want to like… hurt you” His hands are already on your waist, attempting to tug you upwards. “You’re not– I want this”
The look in his eyes is hungry, you hesitate for a moment before moving forward, until your knees are bracketed beside his head, your pussy right above his face. “Baby–” He breathes out, pulling you flush against his face.
You gasp at the feeling, sure Heeseung's eaten you out before–plenty of times, but this– this is different. “Oh..fuck–Heeseung!” Your hands are in his hair, pulling the soft strands, he groans into your pussy, pure pleasure.
His hands are gripping onto your ass, pulling you against him, He pulls off with a wet pop, “Ride my nose– come on, you know you want to,” He urges, giving a teasing lick to your clit. You hum out a response, eyes rolling when he nuzzles into your pussy, the bridge of his sharp nose hitting just right on your sensitive clit each time you move your hips forward slightly. His eyes are shut, completely lost in the feel– the smell of you so close to him.
He pulls you back down, tongue prodding at your entrance, your hole desperately clenching–searching for fulfillment, and he gives it, he thrusts his tongue in and out of you the best he can, hands massaging your ass, nose applying pressure exactly where you need it.
“I can–” He slurps once, the noise filthy in your bedroom, “I can never get enough of this–” His tongue flicks over your clit, alternating between sucking, teasing you through pursed lips. “Hee.. I–im gonna cum..” your plea encourages him more. He looks up at your face, your head thrown back, tits bouncing in that light pink bra, mouth hung open, face in pure pleasure.
There's no rhythm, just hunger as he devours you, your grip tightens in his hair as you reach your orgasm, your legs going weak, grinding on his mouth, he holds you there, not letting you up until every last drop of cum is drained out of you, his tongue moving in slow licks over your overstimulated clit, the feeling making your hips jerk. He kisses your pussy once, twice, gentle–completely different from the way he was just tongue deep inside of you.
You settle on his stomach, still dripping, some getting onto his shirt but he could care less. “That was–”
“Amazing.” He finishes for you, licking his lips.
“You’re crazy.” You mumble, a shy smile already on your face.
“Only for you,” he whispers, hands traveling up your waist, your back, urging you to be even closer to him.
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."
"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.
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.
