Genuinely One Of The Cutest Fanfics Ive Read

genuinely one of the cutest fanfics ive read 🥹🥹

DATE NIGHT | g. clarkey

summary: you have your first date with your tinder match. [9k words.]

pairing: reader x george clarkey.

notes: woooo! first date finally posted! i think i’m happy with how it turned out 🙂 hope you all enjoy, let me know what you think! hype her up!!! 😌💞 hopefully this can help build what we think gc’s girly will be like and come up with further fic ideas and concepts 🥰 lots of lovee. don’t forget to reblog! <33

YOU COULDN'T REMEMBER THE LAST TIME you had nerves like this.

Then again, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone on a date, with a lad living in London, a very stunning lad at that - and on the path to fame and endless opportunities with his never-ending increase in followers online.

You just had to keep reminding yourself he was still just George at the end of the day. The one you hadn’t stopped texting, the one who clearly fancied you to some extent.

I mean . . he swiped right after all.

Luckily for you, you didn’t work weekends, so you told him you were free after four o’clock from Friday.

You talked and he’d mentioned how he’d just moved and had few places he was still yet to find out about in London, from bars and restaurants to fun activity places, there was a lot to choose from.

So, to cut short — coffee had gone out the window, and you both settled for a Friday afternoon playing mini-golf, with drinks, with drinks after with a nice meal.

But you were crapping yourself.

You didn’t know where to begin to get ready, your brain was buffering.

You didn’t think you’d took so long to do your makeup but you wanted everything to be perfect and long-lasting by the end of the night — in all hopes he didn’t ditch you after 30 mins max.

The train from Brighton to London was a little over an hour long, but you took it as a time to keep yourself collected, running over every possible scenario and thing that could go wrong.

You had a good feeling about tonight up until you started getting ready, it was like your brain started to play tricks on you the more it became real.

Oh my days!!! You were going on a date with George! George Clarkey!!

You knew he wasn’t the biggest name online but . . he was bigger than you would probably ever be, and the ladies were loving him — and you were no PLT model! You felt like an imposter buying that train ticket to London.

The sun was still up, London bright and the sky still blue at 6:30PM in the Spring, Summer finally around the corner, it’s why you didn’t bring a coat with you.

You were stunning. Wearing a white shirt with a beige pocket skirt, paired with some chunky black boots, you didn’t want to make it too formal, just stylish; you’d stuck on your favourite jewellery and brought your little handbag with your necessities inside, from your perfume to mints, you were ready for tonight.

It was odd — you felt more excited than nervous.

Your hair was flowing behind you, your makeup painted to perfection on your face, you’d done it yourself as always, very happy with your look today and proud things seemed to be sailing smoothly so far.

You had a good feeling again.

George was trying to ignore the absolute shambles he’d faced the other day which was gonna cost him today, killing time at the same time you were rushing to get ready, by filming a video with the boys.

Alex was doing a good job at taking his mind off his date by screaming into his headset as the five of them argued over something he’d worded wrong.

“Shut up, TinTin.”

“ALEX. FUCK OFF!”

“It’s the return of the TinTin.”

“LEWIS!”

“George shut up man. Hurry up and go.”

“NO!

“Go!”

“No!”

“Mate! Just go! Literally everyone is going!”

“I don’t care! I told you I’m going out,” he gave a laugh as they pressured him once again to join them on their night out.

“Meet us after?!”

“I’ll see,” he almost muttered, amused at their effort, but pretty certain he would not be seeing them after spending the evening with you.

You smiled leaving the train, waving your fingers goodbye as you stepped off, eyes immediately looking around for the boy who promised to he right there for you getting off to walk through the city with you to your first destination.

George noticed you immediately the second you stepped off, compared to every other bland person leaving the train, his features seemed to drop the second he saw your leg stick out the door, his eyes trailing up the long-legged beauty, past her skirt and her frame, up to her unbuttoned shirt where a shiny pendant hung around her neck, resting just above her chest. She swung one foot in front of the other, the intimidating boots hitting the ground as you looked to the left first and then to the right, your hair flowing effortlessly as you searched for him.

But with weak knees, he was already walking over to you, eager to get by your side and prevent anyone from swooping in to pester you and your beauty.

His saliva got stuck in his throat, not expecting you to look so . . good, so divine. It wasn’t a causal fit but it wasn’t over the top — it was perfect. You dressed perfect. Once again.

Why was he so surprised? He needed to get used to you outdoing him. Effortlessly dressing out of his league.

You looked to your right and almost jumped to find a pair of eyes trained on you, saving you from the embarrassment of looking utterly confused.

You smiled at that friendly face, clearly excited to see you, and smiled at his appearance, liking the effort of a pair of trousers that weren’t some Nike joggers or a top that was an old sweatshirt (like past dates had showed up in). He had some dark jeans on with a fresh, white t-shirt with some tiny branded logo, paired with some white shoes to match and his black padded coat to beat the cool London breeze. You could smell his aftershave before you’d even hugged him and noticed his effort to have shaved and even have gotten his hair cut.

It was the first thing he saw you noticed as your eyes glanced to the top of his head and he laughed midway pulling you in for a hug, “ignore the trim, I was sabotaged!”

“No, it’s lovely! I really like it!” You smiled from his shoulder, his body much warmer against yours as you kissed his cheek like the French. He felt so nervous with you so close to him, scared you could feel his hands shaking with them on your back. “You look lovely.”

“You look lovely. You — you look gorgeous, I mean,” he evidently checked you out from top to bottom, sending a flattering smile to your face with rosy cheeks.

“Thank you.”

“Not cold?”

“The train was quite stuffy. I should be fine,” you reassured, unable to take your eyes off him.

He . . was so attractive.

You were so charmed by him!

The haircut had fuck all affect on you — it was nice! He pulled it off!

“Oh no, is my hair really that bad?” He noticed you looking again.

“No! Honestly,” you reassured, “It’s really fine, George. You suit it.”

He raised a brow at you at that, “now that’s just pushing it.”

“I’m serious! I like it!” You convinced him, smiling up at it. Yeah, it was shorter since the event but he’d styled it to look nice. It was cute! He was cute.

He playfully rolled his eyes at you, “okay.”

You tilted your head at him adoringly, his gaze stuck on you and your dazzling eyes. “I’m serious.”

He trusted you. “Shall we?”

“Yes! Lead the way!” You nodded excitably, tucking your hair behind your ear as he offered you his arm. You took it gracefully, nervous by his strong eye contact.

Walking through London at that time was perfect: the sunlight hit just right and it seemed to empty as people abandoned the streets to head home for the weekend. You couldn’t stop looking around as George spoke to you the entire for time, rambling about what he knew so far and the stories he’d been told on certain areas that kept you intrigued.

London was beautiful, and you were happy with the opportunity to get to walk right through the centre with him.

Sitting down at the first bar you’d agreed to before your activity, you both ordered your drinks to your outside table, already poking fun at your date and his choice of drink. “Oof. A beer man. Didn’t see that coming.”

“Just one of the lads,” he fake flexed, making you laugh for getting your sarcasm.

“Real men order cocktails.”

“I actually do like cocktails,” he broke into a smile, “I’m just . . trying to impress you.”

“Wow, and it’s done the trick,” you raised your brows, before the two of you shared a coy laugh.

George smiled at you, unbelieving this was actually happening right now. That a girl like you were sitting with him. That you were with him. Laughing at him. “Thank you for coming up here, you look . . stunning,” he got all soft, dropping his gaze to the table where he scratched his nail to the chipped wooden table. It must have been nerve-wrecking to have to come all the way here on your own — and for a date. Ballsy, he thought.

“Thank you,” you beamed kindly, “of course! Here’s to hoping it’s a fun night,” you pretended to clink a glass as that would have been the opportunity had you got them yet, but he joined you in pretending anyway, hitting his fake pint to yours. “Thank you for asking me out.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

You raised your brows. “So it is a pity date.”

He panicked, widening his eyes as he sat with his arms on the table, “NO! No, I mean—” what did he mean? Great, this was great. “I mean . . I wanted to anyway, since the start. It’s what I should have done from the start instead of—”

You laughed and reached to touch his arm reassuringly to stop him, “George! I’m joking.”

He breathed. Sarcasm, George. It exists. You’re the king of it. “I’m surprised you agreed to be fair.”

“I’m surprised you asked! I thought I was so cheeky to you on the carpet, I was like what am I doing?!” You ranted as your drinks were brought to your table. George was excited to hear your side of the story because he didn’t think you were cheeky for a moment. He knew you were just getting your own back, not maliciously. Not in the slightest. He got your banter. “I was like why did I do that?! You like him?! Talk to him? Don’t—” he laughed across from you, cheeks pink from your confession, “don’t . . say exactly what you said? I swear — it was — I was like ok, get flirty, you know, just be nice and then I . . attacked you?!” You apologised?

He laughed. “You didn't attack me,” he reassured, “I didn’t feel attacked anyway, don’t worry,” he lifted his drink, “I deserved it. I’m glad you said so. I got that you were . . trying to flirt.” You had to set your drink down from laughing as he mirrored your struggle to drink his.

“Oh, great!” You celebrated your awkward efforts, “cheers to that,” you both hit glasses, you going in with too much force as his shaky hand met it and astonishingly — smashed your martini glass.

The drink went everywhere as George’s hand immediately covered his mouth while you stared with yours hanging open, in disbelief that this was how it was going.

You began to silently laugh because you didn’t know what you’d do if you didn’t!

George followed, both hands now covering his eyes as he witnessed this, “there is no . . way.”

You laughed loudly with your hand covering your eyes, and George could feel himself growing fond at the sound.

Getting another glass with a fresh drink, you clinked glasses properly this time, chuckling as you both did so and drank.

Take two.

Conversation flowed nicely between you both; you’d feared your shyness would get in the way, especially considering George was someone new to you, but surprisingly, it didn’t end. You bounced off each other, retorting back and fourth, a hundred questions to ask and hundred stories to tell.

“Were you working today?”

“One of my co-workers actually had a doctors appointment and she didn’t want to cancel her client ‘cause it was for a wedding so I offered to take her,” you explained, your casualty in tone proving to George just how kind-hearted a girl you could be. Didn’t like disappointing others. “But no, not technically.”

“Do you like your job?”

“Yeah! I’m one of the lucky ones who doesn’t mind work. Hate the early mornings but,” you shrugged, “doesn’t feel much like work when you enjoy what you’re doing. It’s my creative outlet.”

So you were artistic.

“So do you hate nail biters?”

You raised a shoulder. “I don’t hate them but I do find it annoying.”

You watched how he nodded and slowly, jokingly, slid his hands off and under the table to hide. You laughed and quickly explained, “I just don’t know how people feel the need to bite their nails! How it’s appealing! The sight and sound of it is so annoying!”

“D’you know who would say exactly that?” He waved a sarcastic finger, feeling attacked, “a non-nail biter.”

You laughed more, and he smile, seeing how easy it was to make you do so.

You didn’t know how it happened, but the pre-drinks had turned into just drinking when you both got distracted talking the ear off each other, missing the time slot you had booked your mini-golf.

“Well! That's great! Wait ‘til 8 now!” Your date lifted his third pint, planning it to be his last as he could feel that little tiny buzz taking him.

“It’s fine! Who cares, we’re having a good time,” you shrugged, letting him know you were happy — more than happy to sit here all night and drink.

Oop, ‘cause that sounded good, Y/n. Alcho.

“I’ve never had an Espresso Martini.”

“Have you not?” You raised your brows, playing with the stem of the glass.

He shook his head. “Are they your go-to drink?”

“Not really. I love my fruity cocktails. Just thought I’d switch it up to seem more . . extravagant to you or something!” You laughed. ‘Cause Espresso Martinis gave off that vibe, Y/n.

“What would you say is you go-to? If you were at a bar?”

Anything, George. The smell of alcohol gets me off my tits, my tolerance is that bad – but why would I tell you that? “Pink Gin is my poison. It fucks me up so I stay away from that as much as I do love it it but . . probably Vodka with . . anything. Or Malibu with pineapple juice,” you raised a shoulder, “I try to be different every time I go out.”

“Do you go out often?”

“I mean . . I like to go out. My friends have all moved away now, got their degrees and living with their partners and i’m just . . not.” You laughed.

He raised his glass at that, not needing to voice another ‘cheers’ as he related to you once again. Had he not been able to find his group of friends to move out with, he’d have happily stayed at home with his mum and dad.

“I do like to go out but Brighton isn’t really the place I feel. It’s different from London,” he nodded along to your words. “Besides, I’ve been getting ready to go out before and then my Nan will text me and ask if I want to spend the weekend on their little barn and . . I can’t say no . .” you confessed, cheeks blushing at how much of a people pleaser you’d just shown you were.

George thought that was really cute of you, you were as sweet as you seemed. “I mean, they’re not gonna be around forever.”

“Exactly! I love my Nan and Grandad, and I love driving out to see them!”

“They live far?”

“They’re countryside folk. They basically run a farm at this point.”

“DO THEY?!”

“Yeah!” You grinned.

“I can’t imagine you to help out with all the farmwork,” he lowered his voice, awkwardly swirling his drink.

You feigned offense. “Why not?!”

“I don’t know! I just — can’t imagine you getting,” quick, think of something! Don’t offend her! “—your fingernails dirty.”

You laughed at that, and he smiled at your reaction. “I mean it’s not ideal but I love to help out. I like getting out there. Let my hair down for a bit, nice change of scenery . . and smell from the salon.”

“I’m sure!”

You shook your head at him.

“I like the country.”

“Maybe you’ll get out there one day,” you didn’t want to scare him, “maybe you’ll be the lucky lad to . . shoot a pheasant with my grandad,” you came up with at the top of your head.

And George could tell you’d come up with that at the top of your head from the look on your face when you said it, his laugh cackling, “what?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know why I said that! I don’t even think I've seen a pheasant up there! I don’t even think my Grandad shoots birds?”

He laughed more, closing his eyes while you tried to fight off another blush on your cheeks.

He didn’t think he could have experienced such a good date.

“Who’s been the ‘lucky lad’ before,” he playfully mocked your words.

“There’s never been a lucky lad.”

George’s features changed, his brows pulling together and his smile dropped in disbelief, “there’s never been a lucky lad? That’s met your grandparents?”

“There’s never been a lad, period,” you drank your drink.

George stared at you, unknowing if you were joking.

You looked back.

“ . . you’ve . . never had a boyfriend?”

That didn’t even feel right on his tongue.

“No,” it was your turn to divert your gaze to your swirling glass of liquid, “do what you will with that!”

Suddenly, George felt a lot more serious. You didn’t need to look at him to see the cogs turning in his brain. He kept diverting his eyes to your hand circling your drink and your face avoiding eye contact. “ . . are you serious?”

“I swear,” you admitted. “Okay, maybe when I was 15 — talked to a guy for a while . . went to his house once or twice, but,” you shrugged, “yeah. Talked to a guy before Lockdown but . . no. Never got ‘round to . . doing anything really: meeting the parents, making it as the other’s wedding date.”

“Wow.”

“Wow? Why, don’t you believe me?” You laughed.

“No! Or yeah! I mean—” he raised a shoulder, not knowing how to carry this conversation now. You’d given a lot away with that, he felt. “I just thought you’d have somebody. Before.”

“No.”

“Oh.”

You looked at him blankly, wondering what he was thinking.

Did that make you weird? Did he view you differently now?

“Yeah. Just too picky. Nobody’s been worth my time – met my standards,” you joked to divert the awkwardness you felt, tucking your hair behind your ear and checked your nails as he lightly laughed, playing on the perception people had of you: stuck up; spoiled; goody two shoes, too good for any boy.

He had such a pretty smile.

“So you’re close with your family.” He stated more than asked.

“Yeah.”

“Do you have lots of siblings?”

You shook your head. “None.”

“NONE?!”

“Yeah,” you chuckled a little, “why? Do you find that weird?”

He was surprised, rather. “Yeah!”

“Are you close with your family? Do you have siblings?”

“Yeah,” he amusingly answered, demeanour softening as he thought of them. “I have a sister.”

“YOU HAVE A SISTER?!”

“Yeah, I have an older sister,” he smiled with pride.

“Do you?!”

You would have bet he had at least one brother.

“Yeah!”

Well, that told you all you needed to know. That . . explained a lot, actually.

“Wow.”

“‘Wow’ to you! You’re an only child!” He mocked you, still disturbed by this news.

“All you sibling people find only children so odd like we missed out a huge part in our childhood.” You jokingly rolled your eyes.

“You did.”

You laughed at him. “Well, to be fair, I cannot express how close I am to my cousins. They are like my siblings, we would all be very tight-knit.”

“But have you trailed them by the hair?” He spoke wisely, drinking his beer. Just sibling tingz.

“Actually! My cousin Dan,” you started, “him and I– we’re like not even a year a part, he would be like the closest thing I had to a brother — we’ve pulled the hair off each other.”

“REALLY!” George laughed at the thought of that, of someone as sweet as you participating in such hate crimes.

“Yeah!” You laughed. You could speak for hours on Dan, on all your family but Dan and you were treated like twins growing up: sent to the same school, lived 10 minutes away from each other, always sent to Nan & Grandad’s on the same days, holidays together.

You’d fully experienced that universal brother experience when you began secondary school and everyone disbelievingly asked you throughout: “are you related to Dan L/N?!”

“Yeah. We fought all the time once we turned 13 and 14. Literally sickened me,” you thought of the days. “Made me glad to be an only child.”

George looked at you as you spoke, and you couldn't help but wonder what the hell he was thinking about. “Why are you judging me. Are you making some only-child stereotypes?”

He laughed loudly at your words, clearly able to read him like a book.

“You so are! You think i’m some . . spoiled brat,” you sipped from your cocktail glass.

“I mean,” cut him some slack. Easy assumption.

Did you get everything you want? Practically, not always but . . I mean yeah, your dad couldn't say no to that face. (Your mum could). Your Nan and Grandad couldn’t, you were their golden girl, and even your Auntie who only ever had boys, she — “ok, some ti—”

“You have to be!” He laughed, seeing your expression change in thought.

“So you’re close with your sister?” You jokingly changed the subject.

George laughed at that too, shaking his head humoured at you, but went for it. “Yeah, we’re really close. I’m close with them all, it’s weird not seeing them everyday. Weirder that neither me or my sister live in Bristol now. She used to . .” then he shook his head with a laugh, “no, actually—”

“What!”

“No, no I—”

“What! Come on, just say!” You touched is arm.

He fought to lightly roll his eyes, “no, she just used,” he shook his head again, clearly amused at the memory, “she used to dress me up when we were younger. I actually idolised her,” he rubbed his eye.

You laughed at the confession, finding it the sweetest thing.

Yeah, you knew you had a good feeling about him.

“That’s adorable.”

“Yeah. She’s a prick sometimes though,” he took a drink, and you laughed even more at that — classic sibling behaviour.

You crossed your leg over the other, “I—” your knee hitting the table and ta-da! You jumped to grab the falling glass, jumping off your stool as the sticky liquid covered your legs, sending your mouth agape for the second time tonight with laughter trapped in your chest.

George had turned away with his back to you to hide the laugh fighting to get out of his mouth, not wanting you to think of him as ignorant.

Your knees bent as you laughed with your hands on them, shaking your head as he dabbed tears from his eyes, your hand signaling for you to ‘cut it’ and get going — you’d had enough. “Enough, enough. Let’s just go,” you chuckled, looking to where he pointed on your skirt — to the dark patch that looked like you’d wet yourself. You shook your head at him as he proceeded to laugh, and grabbed your things.

“I can’t believe I spilled that all down me,” you noted as you stood in the resort now, leaning on your golfclub as George got a snigger out before putting the ball. It rolled perfectly into the hole.

“Me neither,” he rubbed his eye, distracting himself not to laugh. Well, at least your skirt was dry.

You followed him to the spot and did your bit of putting the ball, not surprised when you needed to go another two times. You shook your head at the brunet again, seeing him watch humoured from the corner of your eye, clearly feeling cocky by leading this competition.

He leaned his arm on his golf club, watching you part your legs and dip your head to the floor, glancing between the ball and where it was supposed to go, watching you sway once, twice, and hit it — too hard to hit against the wall but bounce back enough to land in the hole. You looked excitedly at him and he applauded, cheering for you just as you wanted. “Woo! Only took you four tries!”

Your shoulders dropped and you gave him a ‘be quiet’ look.

He laughed more at himself, mocking you at the next hole, copying your movements, spreading his legs and moving his hips the way you had, which had you laughing with your hand to your mouth. “George!”

He was glad you could take a joke.

He smiled smugly coming to stand next to you, too good, getting it in a hole-in-one, and you looked at him peeved, his eyelids lazy as they dropped onto you, eyeing the proximity. “Stop the showing off.”

“Hurry up and score or we’re not making dinner!” he teased.

You straightened up, leaning your back forward but keeping your legs straight, unable to find the flag to put the ball at with the darkness of the room, and George was too busy rubbing his hand down his face at the sight to tell you. “Where’s the hole?”

His loud rupture of laughter had you abandoning your club with flaming cheeks, having enough of his childishness.

“Come on, I’m not doing this anymore,” you subconsciously tugged your skirt down, accepting defeat. He laughed even louder.

You were both in the taxi, heads feeling a little fuzzy when you spoke up from his side, trying not to laugh at your realisation, “. . I don’t know if I can do dinner. I think I’m a bit . .”

He looked down at you humoured, the same word on his mind. “Same.”

You both laughed in the backseat, your hand subconsciously touching his leg as you tried to collect yourself, not wanting to piss off the taxi driver who’d pin you both as your average pissed young couple he wanted to charge more for being annoying.

George’s blood hit the roof, his hand gripping the handle bar above the window at your hand on him.

But for a moment — it was nice. It was natural. He felt like . . he could get used to this, but at the same time, never get used to this, because there was no way a girl like you would stick him that long.

You were surprised he hadn’t been put off by you, as you seemed to have something most lads didn’t like.

Self-respect? Maybe?

You were shocked by how easily up bounced off him – you could be quite shy around new people and new settings - it was strange.

Another bar turned into another bar, and talking the night away, chatting each other’s ears off, you’d managed to spill another drink between you as you’d smashed the stem of your cocktail on the table, and George, whilst trying to be funny, picked up his glass that seemed to slip right from his fingers and smash under your table.

Now it was his turn to cover his face with a hand.

“I don’t think I’ve met a better-suited pair,” the bar-maid pettily joked, cleaning your mess up.

“Sorry,” you apologised, meaning it truly but you could’ve guessed she wanted you gone in your tipsy state.

Oh no. It wasn’t supposed to get like this.

“Think I should order a water.” George looked at you.

“Me too. For me.” You specified.

“D’you think — oh for fuck’s sake,” he quietly grumbled as his phone rang for the third time.

“Just answer it!” You encouraged, finishing the sip of your drink.

He looked at you and you nodded, watching him bring it to his ear, “what?”

You crossed your leg and watched him, biting your lip to hold back the bubbling laughter at the tone of his voice and expressions of his face.

He was so freakin’ cute.

“No! I told you already—” his brows pulled together, “arth—Arthur! No! . . ‘cause I’m out already! . . yeah! I’m in . . no! Around the corner from there, yes! . . no! Why would I do that? . . no, I’m not bringing them along, are you joking?” he looked at you as his friends continued to ramble on the phone, “no, we wouldn’t make it anyway . . Arthur, I don—” he facepalmed, hand dragging down his face and you laughed softly, leaning on the table to grab his arm, holding just past his watch.

“Are you okay? Are they okay?”

He lowered his phone with a petty shake of his head, “just being a headache. They want me to meet them on the tube to go back to some houseparty—”

“We should go!” You unexpectedly perked up.

He paused, looking at you. “Huh?”

“Or — you should go. It’s getting late anyway and I’m sure you’d be needing to get home — keep the night going!”

“But I . . . I don’t want to leave you just yet.”

Your heart exploded at his confession. Your eyes had to be twinkling looking at him if they hadn’t been all night. “I’ll come with! I don’t mind! Or I—I mean if they don’t mind! It’s your friends, right?”

The side of his mouth perked up, “yeah.”

“Then why not! You wanna keep the night going, I wanna keep the night going, we should!”

George smiled wider as he brought the phone back to his ear, not taking his eyes off you, “right, yeah. Sod it — we’ll meet you on the tube you freak.” He annoyingly rubbed his eye.

Even you could hear the cheers from the phone’s speaker.

He was clearly looked up to by his friends.

“Bye.”

“I feel like I just invited myself to your friend’s party—”

“No, don’t be ridiculous — I wasn’t going anywhere without you tonight,” he timidly admitted, necking the rest of his drink before jumping from his seat and grabbing his jacket, picking your handbag off the floor for you so you didn’t need to bend down.

You smiled and took it from him, catching his eyes, forever feeling intimidated with how he stared through his eyelids, clearly something turning in the back of his mind every time he gazed down at you, and that little smirk didn’t help either.

“Christ, it’s cold,” he noticed, feeling the immediate different from inside to out, however, the alcohol in his system seemed to be doing its job because although he could feel the nippy air, he still felt comfortable in his skin.

You on the other hand were crossing your long legs over the other to help keep warm whilst George checked his phone for the quickest backstreet leading to the underground.

Without a second thought, the Bristol boy took one look at you from his phone and held his coat out to you, ashamed he hadn’t said sooner. “Here!”

“O — are you sure?” You blushed, “it is freezing.”

“Yeah, of course, take it,” he smiled, watching you take it before eyeing his phone again.

“Are you sure? Just take it back if you get too cold,” you advised, appreciatively taking the padded coat from him. The second you slipped it on, you were wrapped up in warmth — his aftershave filling your nostrils as you tried not to get so giddy in the oversized article of clothing. “Thank you so much George.”

“It’s alright,” he was barely paying attention, trying to get the fastest shortcut, which only made your heart flutter because of how casual he was about it.

A natural gentleman.

Thank God he was engaged on his phone, or he’d had seen the way you gawked at him, once again in disbelief you were on a date with someone as attractive as him, as funny as him, as enticing.

You fancied him so much.

The side of his face was so handome, and his arms — oh Lord, his arms were beautiful, he didn’t need to move much for his muscles to flex.

“Ok, think I found it,” he quickly locked his phone and shoved it in his jeans pocket, “come on,” he was ready to break out into a full-blown sprint in order to make this train. But he held his hand out beforehand, promoting a girly smile to your face and a light glow by your dimples as you secured a hand on the strap of your bag on your shoulder and took his with the other, laughing the entire way he maneuvered you both through obstacles of people and slip through tiny spaces under the cool, London sky.

The night felt like a dream.

You chased behind him, holding your bag, his hand, his large hand gripping yours, secure enough so it wouldn’t let go. You followed behind him, tucking in closer and gripping him tighter when you went underground, a natural wary feeling taking over you at the acknowledgement of being in such location at night and as a woman.

“You ok?” George pulled you over closer to him, sensing your timidity as you looked around the strangely emptied surroundings.

You glanced to him at the feeling of his hand squeezing yours, and the sight of that face looking down at you, eyes soft but demeanor showing you he was ready to fight anyone who came near you — your chest wasn’t the only thing with a thrilling heartbeat.

You nodded, throat dry as his eyes danced across your face, your body subconsciously tucking itself securely behind his toned arm.

Fuck!!! He was so fit, you could have cried.

His eyes flickered, investigating your eyes before your lips, your face the closest it had ever been to his tonight sending a rush to his heart.

You were even more perfect up close, truly not a flaw he could pick out.

“George,” your voice dropped, playfulness to your tone as his face eased and his grin grew, his arm pulling you close and then raising above and over you so it was wrapped behind your neck, your hands now connected on your shoulder — even he was surprised by how smooth it was! “Yeah?”

You barely tilted your head at him, raising your brows when you let your eyes level at his mouth, at those pink lips.

His arm tightened by your head as he pulled you into him, your lips meeting his in the most romantic kiss that rattled your stomach with nerves.

His arm relaxed behind you as you shoulders slouched, your free hand coming up to rest on his shoulder before inching to his face where you didn’t hold him but let your fingers brush against his cheek, almost guiding him in the direction of your mouth, encouraging him to stay put, rather than pull away.

You kissed long once, not opening your eyes as you went for another, lips softly smacking as you transferred your lipstick on him, releasing a soft breath as you locked lips for a third time.

Clearly, an unexpected urgency seemed to crawl up you as you let go of his hand to slip it round the back of his neck and instinctively hitch your leg up, lips smiling as you opened your mouth more for him, he grabbed it and almost hooked it over his hip.

Your whole body felt on fire.

Electrical.

You pushed close against him, his hand placed strictly by your thigh, you felt the unusual feeling of both nerves and arousal pooling in your stomach when suddenly — you heard a smash, and you flinched!

“OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE — ARTHUR!”

The loud ruckus of voices had you pulling your heads away to face the direction of the booming voices and behold, your split just in time to see the bodies appear from the steps, shards of glass sprinkling down the concrete stairs that had just slipped from Arthur Hill’s hand.

“HOW WAS THAT MY FAULT?!” A younger-sounding voice laughed back, a head of dark hair craned at the other’s direction as he argued his defence, avoiding the broken ping glass and sticky liquid.

“HEY! HEY!! There he is!” Another called the moment his eyes landed on George, who’s although body was still facing yours, his neck was craned to look at the walking buzzkills skipping over to you, his mind feeling a little hazy after the crude interruption — like he’d just been rudely woken from a dream.

“Finally made it to the gates!”

“What d’you mean finally? I was here before you?” He bluntly reciprocated.

The dark-haired boy shrugged, his hands not leaving the pockets of his jacket.

“Just dropped my pint.”

“It was your own fault,” the youngish-looking one retorted.

“Arthur, no it wasn’t!”

“ARTHUR! YES IT WAS! HOW—”

So they were both Arthurs. Interesting.

Either that or you were really drunk.

“And who are you?”

You blinked by surprise, caught watching the other two bicker when another face addressed you. Another dark-haired boy with blue eyes looking down on you.

“Oh! U— Y/n” your nervous hands wiped at the back your skirt, instinctively pulling it down after, your eyes flickering between all these boys now. “Y/n.”

“Alex, give her some space. Take a step back. There’s a good boy,” George’s dull tone instructed him as he didn’t want you to feel like you were suddenly being interrogated by his roommate.

“Alex. Arthur and Arthur,” he held out his elbow to the two still fighting with each other.

“Where’s Lewis?”

“He’s at the next stop with Cam.”

You observed the trio who had just showed up, and how they seemed incredibly unbothered by your presence. You didn’t know if to be worried or thankful for it. However, watching them interact and speak to one another — it was obvious they had also had their own round of pre’s.

Which probably explained their lack of enthusiasm to you.

George guided you both a step back as the train slowed on the tracks, stopping in front of you before opening the doors. A comforting hand found your back as it guided you through onto the transport.

You’d felt so safe in his company all night long.

On the tube – you hadn’t felt a mood like this since your days in school — when you tried your best at keeping a straight face as to not break your good-girl act when all you wanted to do was burst out laughing along with the rest of the class at the class clown.

There were quite a few people riding the train with you and truthfully you felt sorry for them having to deal with this group you’d clearly discovered to be quite chaotic when put together. The people not in on your jokes must have found them quite annoying.

“ARTHUR!”

“Would you stop trying to grab his big toe!”

“Tell him to shoving his finger in my ear!”

You sat amused across from them, unable to divert your attention.

Alex had been sitting across from you also, his foot on his other knee as he observed you for the last 5 minutes, trying to suss you out as he suddenly realised George Clarkey was with a girl. “We didn’t even ask how — what you’re — what are you two doing together?” he dropped, something finally clicking as he questioned this pairing. Seriously — where did you come from? Who even were you?

“We . . just met up, after—” George was irritably rubbing his eye again, coming up with something on the spot as he was not in the mood to explain to Alex when he clearly wasn’t going to remember anything.

“Are you a homophone?”

You blinked at him, unknowing if he was joking. What he meant. Wasn’t that what you learnt in English? “Am I a what?”

“Say yes.” George grumbled next to you.

“Are! You! Homophobic!” He thudded his foot (playfully).

You hurriedly shook your head, appalled if he’d picked up such thing that made you come across that way.

George was staring sternly at the little twerp, almost warning him to stop being so weird and putting you on edge. You were yet to learn to never take Alex Elmslie seriously.

“Ok.”

“Literally, never take anything he says to heart,” your date told you.

You timidly looked at the group, worried what else they might have already thought of you. If these were his friends and you already were making a bad impression — well you just didn’t know what you would do. You really liked George and another day spent with him felt like something too good to happen to you.

“Hello — AH!” A ringing rang in your ears as two others of George’s friends, you assumed, approached but one missing the pole which he’d bung in his head on.

You covered your mouth as you felt it was too mean to laugh.

The others — they did.

The scottish one took a seat next to ‘Alex’, rubbing his head, “who’s this lassie?”

“Y/n.” Alex answered also.

“Who is she?” He turned to him, feeling rude to not have known you like everyone else seemed to.

Nope. I am in fact a new face to see!

“George’s . . dunno. Are you datin’?” He asked casually. Savagely.

“No.” He shot down. Not yet.

Oh right.

The boy looked confusedly at you. “Oh. Alright. Well I’m Lewis,” he held out a hand for you to shake.

“I’m Cam,” the other copied.

“That’s Arthur and that’s Arthur,” George re-explained to you the others who had clearly forgotten to introduce themselves, “Hill. Frederick — or we call him Arthur TV. He’s Alex, as you know. I live with those two.”

If that didn’t put you off — he didn’t know what would.

You raised your head in acknowledgment. “Cool!”

“And I . . want to die,” he huffed, leaning back in his seat with crossed arms as he realised what he’d just signed you both up for.

“Now come on! No you don’t!” Arthur Hill’s hand slapped his leg which got him to smile. “You’re glad we’re all here, family reunion!”

Truth be told, the train ride was probably one of the funniest you’d ever had — watching this boys interact had your stomach hurting from laughing so much, no longer feeling as drunk as you watched their antics. If anything — you felt sober — maybe even sobered up seeing them mess with each other.

Little Arthur TV (which was ironic because he was supposedly the oldest of the lot!) skipped off the train while Alex finished off the beer Lewis no longer wanted (clearly already getting a headache) while you laughed into yourself as George walked alongside you, his hand on your back as you exited the transport. “I’m sure you didn’t expect the night to end like this.”

“Nope, actually better than I imagined,” you reassured, tilting your head up to give him a smile, and if it weren’t for his friends prancing in front of you two, he would have pulled that sweet face in for another kiss.

Your words were reassuring as George was fully convinced he had brought you out on the worst date ever — what date ended with the girl tagging along with your group of mates?!

And they said chivalry was dead!

But the circumstances had worked in his favour as it not only resulted with you laughing and engaging with his friends with the biggest, most beautiful smile, but also sharing a seat with him — your bum barely on the arm of the chair as he kept a hand on your cold legs propped on him.

His friends were quite funny, and you’d quickly learned a bit about them - including Alex’s dry and blunt humour.

The house you arrived at put you in mind of an influencer lifestyle - the kind you could only dream of being able to afford some day, very big, and very modern. “Who’s house is this?” You asked George.

He paused, as clueless as you were. “ . . I dunno.” There were quite a lot of people but all you’d come into contact with were extremely nice.

You’d even noticed the famous head of blond hair begin an argument with your date when you’d both retrieved drinks from the kitchen— “GEORGE CLARKEY.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he mumbled, hating the singling out but a smile took his face as one of his dearest friends stomped up to him, “alright mate—”

“DON’T ‘ALRIGHT’ ME. WHERE WERE YOU?! WHY WEREN'T YOU IN HEAVEN?!” Max stopped right in front of him, before turning to you, “—the nightclub, not upstairs,” he laughed proudly at his joke and you couldn’t believe you were as blessed to have gotten to have witness a drunk, Max Balegde.

The party was good fun and you’d been kindly offered endless drinks, a few you’d even brought with you on your journey to the next house Max had advised you all go to — yet another person neither of you knew but went to because — let’s keep the party going!

Once again, you got that buzz back on your way to the underground once again, the high of excitement before the low when you wanted to slump it in bed.

George was humoured by your excitable ways, the most he’d seen you so animated, he was almost a little worried you would do something unpredictable.

“What the hell are they doing?” He rubbed his head at the sight of Arthur doing tumbles on the path.

“My party trick!”

“I don’t think you can class that as a party trick, mate.”

“What’s your party trick then?” You nudged him.

“What’s yours?” He threw back.

You raised your brows and strutted back, handing him your bag and tin, “hold my cocktail.”

George’s eyes lit up in anticipation of what you were about to do.

The boys applauded you as you made space. “GO ‘AN GIRL!”

“YESSS! GET YOU ARSE OUT!!!” Max’s eyes were barely open and his boyfriend (you assumed) was rubbing him back to prevent him being sick.

You were pretty sure he didn’t even know your name.

You steadied yourself, tugging your skirt down before placing a leg in front of the other, all eyes on you, you raised your arms before doing a little skip, placing and flipping your body in a kart wheel and then a backflip, before doing another slickly kart wheel again before allowing your legs to fall in a straight, perfectly-landed splits position with your arms held out in like you’d finished your display.

The boys screamed and thudded their legs on the ground excitedly while the tall brunet with the dodgy haircut stood with his jaw on the floor, not expecting such capability to come from you.

How does — where — how did your body bend— your legs—

“Ow Y/n! What the fuck!” Alex couldn’t even imagine the strain along his thighs if he tried to do such thing himself.

You pulled yourself up and immediately hoisted your skirt down for the 100th time tonight, taking your things off a dumbstruck George with a pleasant smile. “That count?”

The edges of his lips curled upward. “What the hell?!”

He was mesmerised.

“I can get my leg up next to my head, but I don’t know if I’m ready for you to know the colour of my knickers just yet,” blink and you’d miss the quick closing of one eyelid, but George didn’t and the comment alone had a blush chasing his cheeks, a skip in his heart when you playfully bit your tongue at your playful comment.

He was worried you’d noticed the little nervous shudder in his hand passing you your tin back.

It was 1:35 by the time you arrived at the other house, and the crate of beer Lewis had stolen from the previous party had been opened and finished off — not that you knew — as you’d found someone’s room on your way back from the bathroom after spilling yet another drink over yourself - and threw yourself down for what was supposed to be a moment. George eventually found you and joined you, the pair of you sweetly talking over your night where you reassured the other it had been the best date you’d both gone on in a long time.

And you both meant it - as messily as it had gone.

“I promise. It was so good. I hope you know I’m never like this,” you referred to your current state — you weren’t even that drunk but more so just tired: with working all week and that morning - it had finally hit you.

But George knew that. He knew you were (both) fighting off the drunkenness but those were sleepy eyes, and bless her, he thought, you must have been trying to keep awake all day for him as to not seem a bore.

“I hope you know not all my dates end like this, I had better intentions,” he rubbed the back of his neck with a smile.

“I really had a good night George,” you told him slightly underneath, considering he lay propped up on an elbow, “even though you beat me at mini golf. And we ditched dinner. And we spilled about 10 drinks between us,” you listed on your fingers, “I hope you know I really enjoyed my night out in London. With you. And I’d do it again.”

His face was the equivalent to a kid waking up on Christmas morning. “Would you?!”

“Yeah, would you not?”

“Yeah! Of course I would.”

You smiled up at him, still in his coat, lifting your arm to pull him down, “and I still think you’re fit — even with that haircut.”

He embarrassingly laughed against your mouth before meeting your lips, sneaking another kiss which filled your stomach with butterflies because oh my days, how were you kissing George Clarkey right now?! You couldn’t remember falling asleep but you did remember the last thing you’d told him in your half-slumped state. “Want to know something funny?”

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t drinking Espresso Martinis. I’ve been drinking Guinness all night long,” you covered your mouth to your hand as you let the secret slip.

George could not believe his ears, he opened his eyes to look at you and burst out laughing at the confession.

What?!

“I told them to make them in Martini glasses so you didn’t think I was some . . 50-year-old beer-belly bloke regular,” you breathlessly laughed as you realised how dumb it sounded, eyes crinkling with delight, “or one of those girls who say ‘tHey’Re nOT LiKE otHEr giRLs!’”

You both laughed on that bed for ages, your stomachs both badly hurting.

George was in absolute awe.

He was in for it.

You couldn’t even remember falling asleep as you’d simply woken up almost laying against the headboard, still in his padded coat, your arms folded like every dad ever. But George was next to you, also asleep as well as Alex who’d slept at the foot of the bed — and Lewis who’d taken the floor with a person’s coat thrown over him.

He told you he wasn’t letting you go home at that hour in the morning on your own anyway — to get a train from London to Brighton all by yourself and make your way home by yourself under that night sky — he’d apologised and told you he couldn’t let that happen. He, in the nicest way possible, put his foot down in his expression for your safety. And it meant a lot to you.

But that didn’t mean you’d expected to slum it in some randomer’s house together.

You laughed when you took in your surroundings, wondering how the hell you’d ended up in such a position, in someone’s house with a group of boys you barely knew — and your date!

God, you would have even surprised if he asked you out for a second. Genuinely.

But he did. After waking up and assuring him you’d be fine getting the train home on your own, as it was now bright and morning time, he saw you off, still disbelieving such a date had gone like this.

“Oh! Your coat!” Your immediately started to shrug it off, but George stopped you and shook his hands.

“No, keep it on. You’re still in your skirt and . .” he shrugged, really not minding, “I’ll get it next time,” he winked.

“Are you sure? . . It’s North Face, George.”

Why were you so fucking adorable?

The way you spoke his name made him feel fuzzy.

Yes. Of course yes. In fact — keep it. I don’t even want it anymore. Better still — take all my coats. Have them all.

“I promise. You’ll text me when you’re home, won’t you? Or call me?”

“Yes. I’ll call you when I’m all pretty and fresh-faced again,” you smiled at him, an inch away from his face.

He gave you a look, disagreeing there. You’re already pretty. You’re always pretty - the sight of you first thing in the morning with your makeup still on was a million dollar sight.

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous,” his head barely shook as he was almost disgusted at you for lying to him, and your chest fluttered as he threw an arm around the back of your neck.

Those big arms.

You smiled. “Debatable, but thank you very much,” you leant up to kiss his cheek goodbye, “I had the best time.” You double-checked you had all your belongings with you before approaching the doors of the train.

“Same. Hopefully the next one doesn’t results in some randomer’s houseparty.”

You laughed with a cute tilt of your head. “It’s the company that counts,” you pushed yourself to gently cup his face before giving a sweet, little goodbye kiss.

He smiled sweetly from the platform, and waved, looking like the cutest boy ever in his sleepy state as you took a seat on the train.

And it wasn’t long before you were back on that train, headed straight back to see him.

DUDE i've come across SMUT FICS including minors on ao3 multiple times like???

i once saw a drista/sapnap fic.... like bro come on what is wrong with these people

wtf that’s disgusting why would people ever even think of writing that shit

PICTURE PERFECT: PARK JAYS F*CK LIST — p. js

SYNOPSIS park jay is known around your campus as a resident fuck boy. him and his friends compete in a game wherein by the end of the year, they have to complete their fuck list in order to win, but what happens when jay meets a girl who can resist his charms?

PAIRING rugby player jay × art club member reader

GENRE smut with plot, highschool au, romance , enemies to lovers

WARNING(S) profanity, smut, dom/sub dynamics (sub!jay, dom!reader), making out, corruption, degradation, male masturbarion, oral, nude painting

WC. 28k

— please don’t hesitate to give me feedback liking, commenting, and/or reblogging my post. oh, and don’t hesitate sending an ask!

In all the years you spent dwelling inside the same old boring highschool, you’ve come to the conclusion that in every campus, there’s always three breeds of people paying amongst you that seem to avoid the brink of extinction; the slutty cheerleaders, the attention seeking fangirls, the ones that annoy you, the varsity jocks.

These varsity players are your typical ball heads who have their minds wrapped around the game and only the game. They’re one way ticket to college is their varsity scholarship and inevitably making the dull-witted excuse to throw away everything related to academics and instead, centering their focus on their balls. It’s stereotypical for you to say that, you acknowledge that for sure, but you can’t help but speak the truth as most, if not, all of them, are the same.

Albeit, yes, these are the usual qualities found in these ball fondlers, but there’s a different kind laying amongst these babbling baboons that’s even more toxic, more abominable, and those are the varsity fuckboys. 

Keep reading

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also !! ive seen someone writing fanfics about emma so here are emmas boundaries !!

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i am here with another post about people constantly breaking some kind of boundaries.

STOP writing romantic fanfics for minors

STOP using sapnaps real name in fanfics

fucking hell it cant be that hard to respect that

check @/smp-boundaries before writing im literally begging you

edit: i just put these two since these are the ones that are very commonly ignored, seen wayy too many sapnap irl name fics and tommy /rom fics

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operation: sweet talk ➢ lee heeseung.

SYNOPSIS ➷ you and quiet, popular boy lee heeseung share being at the top of the food chain at your uni, and there’s no secret you’re smitten. though you’ve never spoken a word to each other, you seem to notice his eyes are always on you. tempted with the possibility he might just like you back, you’re thrown into a challenge where you must prove his feelings for you before the school year ends. let the games begin?

[ word count: 16k ]

PAIRING ➷ lee heeseung x reader

GENRE ➷ fluff, frenemies to lovers (?)

WARNINGS ➷ eventual smut. ( minors dni! )

a/n: GUYSSSS ✋ WITH THE WAY HEESEUNG IS LOOKIN LATELY YOU KNOW I JUST HAD TO WHIP SOMETHIN UP NHHHHH 😩 i had a lot of fun writing this so i hope you guys enjoy this lengthy little fic B) p.s, i’m not entirely sure how pool works so please don’t come for me.. ;$?3!2:’ also, there is sexual themes included, so minors please dni! all interactions are deeply appreciated, but reblogs are highly encouraged! tysm for reading. ♡

“ryung,” you whine softly, an outstretched hand wrapping around your boy best friend’s arm. “don’t leave me here alone.” your voice is hushed and desperate over the variety of chatter that slurs from the figures situated at the bar, soothing jazz music muffled by their overlapping murmurs.

“y/n.” your friend giggles, a bony, outstretched finger pushing up the middle bridge of his glasses. you watch his bouncy, chocolate curls fall over his golden, round frames. “i’m just going to the bathroom.” a small, half smile travels up his chapstick slathered lips, his unbuttoned hawaiian-printed shirt catching the soft brushes of the air conditioning. he quirks a thick eyebrow at you, hidden by his curvy fringe. “i’ll be quick. heeseung seems to have no problem with watching over you.”

you groan as you throw your friend a glare, watching as he pokes his tongue out at you in reply. your eyes follow his figure throughout the crowded room, slipping the straw of your chocolate milkshake between your lips. you’ve propped yourself onto the countertop against the large window, your legs dangling back and forth just above the suede, carpeted floor. you’re watching your friends as they surround the pool table just a few feet in front of you, letting out loud hoots and hollers and harsh slaps to each other’s backs.

the harsh, orange tinted lights above you sears your skin in the most aggravating fashion, a soft sigh slipping from your lips as you push your hair back away from your forehead. you always hate coming to these things, but as a part of the cheer squad and your best friend being on the football team, it’s almost mandatory for you and your reputation.

you keep your half lidded eyes focused on the blond haired boy positioning his pool stick rather meticulously across the green felt, when you can already feel those all-too familiar eyes on you under the iridescent lights.

peering up slyly through the lines of your long, mascara coated lashes, you pose your gaze directly into heeseung’s. he’s propped himself up on the countertop on the other side of the pool table, his thighs spread generously against the marble surface. suyun, one of your cheermates, is laid out horizontally down the length of the countertop, her head positioned tautly on the meat of his thigh. your glossy stare is hidden by the shadows creeping out from behind the orange, stark lamp above you, allowing yourself the advantage of examining his slouched, sitting figure.

his pink lips seem to be embracing the end of a pencil dented with bites, his teeth softly chewing the wood. the spine of an opened black, tattered notebook is settled up against the crown of the girl’s head. his unreadable eyes outlined in dark makeup study you for a second longer, before immediately clipping over towards the chaos by the pool table.

you wish you knew what kind of thoughts conjured from behind the orbs of his emotionless eyes as he looks at you, like he always does. your heart springs up inside your chest as you follow his eyes to the pool table, where your head doesn’t stop replaying his intimidating gaze. it wasn’t until a loud, “y/n, you wanna have a go at it?” that you were jostled from your eyeliner-ridden daydreams. you part your drying lips and furrow your brows as you blink yourself back into reality, aware of all the curious eyes now pointed towards you.

you shake your head softly, the straw of your milkshake pushing a dent into the soft skin of your bottom lip. “uh, no thanks. i don’t know how to play.” you let a forced chuckle roll out off of your tongue as you watch your blond friend roll his eyes, offering his pool stick to you.

“c’mon…. it’s not that hard.” you shake your head at him one more time before he scoffs softly with a shake of his head, lowering his stick as he begins making his way towards heeseung. “here,” he turns his body in your direction while he outstretches the stick to the perched boy, his dark eyebrows raised and a smirk growing on his thin lips. “heeseung will show you how it’s done.”

you swallow softly in your throat as you watch the girl on his lap slowly rise from his thigh, a disgruntled expression across her mousy features. heeseung seems a bit taken aback, but still amused and eager nonetheless. his eyebrows are raised as he gently slips the pool stick from the blond boy’s hand, a shy half smile up his pink lips. he jumps off of the counter and heads over towards the pool table with a teasing, long sigh that jostles his shoulders, his fingers rotating the long sliver of wood between them in a show-off manner.

you study him carefully as he bends his upper half over the table, positioning the pool stick accordingly. you hear whispered hushes and murmurs sprinkle themselves throughout the crowd of your friends circled around the tall boy. “what’d i miss?” you suddenly hear ryung whisper into your ear, sounding slightly out of breath.

“just watch….”

in a swift, sharp manner, the tall boy then suddenly clicks the end of the stick up against one of the plastic balls, sending it into one of the corner pockets. hoots and hollers and loud cheers then burst from the excited mouths of your friends. even a small “wow,” whispered from ryung is heard by your ear.

“alright, y/n,” the blond boy, named hwang, then turns to you, after unnecessarily beating the shit out of heeseung’s broad back. “did you see that? you gotta come up here now!” he widens his eyes at you before tugging on your hand, unwillingly pulling you up into the spotlight.

“i’ll play for her!” you hear ryung chirp behind you.

hwang groans, “can it, pretty boy.”

you swallow nervously in your throat as you hike your hoodie sleeves up, preparing to fail miserably. heeseung is now turning towards you, his lanky figure now towered over your rather somewhat short self, his gaze intense under downturned, smokey eyelids. he doesn’t say anything to you, which is nothing but normal, and slides the pool stick into your sweaty palm with a smirk teetering on the edge of his lip.

he then positions himself beside you, which makes you very self conscious and very aware of his sweat-overridden cologne and close body heat. he places his palms on the edge of the table to lean his weight into his arms, gaze ready to witness your move. the sweat beading along your tightened brows drips rather slowly down the smooth curve of your temple. you go over heeseung’s actions in your mind and slowly begin to mimic them, perching yourself over the pool table and positioning the stick up against one of the plastic pool balls.

you remind yourself not to take this harmless, fun activity too seriously, but with heeseung’s tequila scented breath breathing down your neck, you just can’t help it. you don’t know if you’re doing it right or if you look absolutely stupid, because the tall boy beside you is not saying a single word. out of frustration and slight embarrassment, you quickly clink the end of the stick up against the ball. fortunately for you, it slides right into one of the corner pockets just like heeseung’s had.

more cheers of excitement rush into the pits of your eardrums as you’re suddenly being jolted forward into the pool table by the firm, hard hands of everybody around you. your brain was suddenly clouded by the loud hoots and hollers that you didn’t even have time to register the surprising, unfamiliar voice you never thought you’d hear in a million years whisper right by your ear, “atta girl, that wasn’t too hard, now was it?”

“y/n…. did you hear what i said?” ryung shoves his shoulder lightly into your arm, the faint clicks of your shoes echoing across the tiled, cafeteria floor. the two of you weave your way around the crowded round tables of the bustling lunch room, knuckles white as you grip the edges of your red, plastic tray rather tightly without knowledge.

“yeah, you said….” you mumble, eyebrows furrowed as your brain replays the seven second phrase whispered by a delightfully sultry voice. atta girl.. that wasn’t too hard, now was it? “something about…..”

“you’re thinking about heeseung again, aren’t you?” ryung asks you in a rather displeased tone, followed by a soft groan. he picks up his pace towards your designated lunch table surrounded by your friends, leaving you in the dust just a few feet behind him.

your cheeks bloom red with an embarrassed twinge traveling up your spine, settling your tray onto the plastic tabletop as you take your seat beside your friend. a boy named jay sits across from you, his black hoodie hiked up over his blond-dyed curls. his leg is bobbing in a rather frantic fashion, a black fingerless gloved hand plucking a sad, soggy fry out of its parchment paper. “nice of you to join us, gang.”

“jay, you’re my new best friend now.” ryung declares with a mock-frown present on his lips, pushing his tray further across the table so he can fold his arms on top of it. he flicks his head over towards you, teasingly throwing a glare your way. “this one is too lovesick for me to handle.”

“you’re still hung up on heeseung?” jay asks in bewilderment, his eyebrows raising high behind platinum curls. “the weird, artsy boy that everyone likes because he wears eyeliner?” you hear a couple of muffled chuckles across the table that you meekly roll your eyes at, prodding your pathetic lunch food with a fork.

“stop judging me.”

“i’m not judging you.” jay only shrugs, his eyebrows furrowing together as he reaches for another fry. he throws it in the air to catch it into his mouth, but it only misses and boomerangs off of his chin. “i just thought you’d be over it by now, considering he’s practically glued to my stepsister. also, his locker probably gets raided with love notes like, everyday. overrated, in my opinion.”

your mouth falls slightly ajar, your fork stopping it’s torturing against your mysterious lunch meat. you process jay’s words as you painfully watch jay pluck the fry from the floor and plop it into his mouth. “is suyun your stepsister?” you suddenly remember the events from the bar and that girl who had laid her head on heeseung’s lap.

ryung hisses in disgust. “you did not just eat that!”

“i did just eat that, ryung.” jay murmurs in reply mid-chew, throwing the disgusted boy a lazy wink. he then flicks his eyes back to you, an amused curve lifting at his lip in satisfaction of your reaction. “yeah, suyun’s my stepsister. she’s like, obsessed with him. they’re always out doing shit.”

“are they like….” a rosace tint blossoms in your cheeks at your approaching question, avoiding jay’s intense eyes for a lick of a second. “are they… dating?” you’ve never interacted with suyun enough to know this type of information, considering she acts like you don’t exist most of the time.

jay furrows his brows and scrunches up his nose, taking a quick swig of his mysteriously green colored drink. “no, no,” he shakes his head, hiking up his hoodie sleeves. a teacher quickly swoops behind him to pull the hood off of his head, but he quickly pulls it back over his blond curls. “no, she just has a freaky fixation with him. kinda feel bad for the poor guy, my stepsister is a train-wreck. biggest brat you’ve ever seen, always gets what she wants.”

you’re not gonna lie to yourself and say that a little glimmer of hope didn’t flicker behind the irises of your eyes, your teeth nibbling at your bottom lip. jay leans his body to the side to peer out at something behind you, his chin nodding briefly. “see, she’s sitting with him right now.” ryung and all of your other friends quickly turn their heads to follow jay’s gaze. “talking his head off. probably didn’t give him a choice. someone needs to rescue him from that embodiment of arsenic.”

you suddenly feel a punch in your arm, a quiet yelp slipping past your lips as you throw a glare over at a cheesing ryung. “i say y/n should.” heat swells up your neck. “he’d probably like that. you said he’s always staring at you, right? maybe he likes you back.”

“ryung.” you knit your eyebrows together, reaching your warm palm up to rub at the spot he punched. “ryung.. no.”

“ryung, yes.” jay suddenly exclaims, his eyebrows raising high into his forehead. a malicious yet curious smile lingers at the edges of his lips, as if a lightbulb just flickered on into his head. “please just ask him out. i’d love to see that witch get her broom shoved up her ass.”

“jay… please don’t say that ever again.” ryung whines, squeezing his eyes shut as he begins rubbing his index fingers along his temples. “you give me ulcers.”

“jay,” you furrow your brows and begin prodding at your lunch meat with your fork again, anxiety blooming inside your stomach as you avoid the blond boy’s eyes. “that’d be an embarrassment. i know he doesn’t like me. plus, i don’t want suyun to hate me even more than she does.”

“y/n,” ryung groans, “if he likes you more than suyun, then it isn’t your fault. plus, i see the way he stares at you. almost like he’s gonna jump your bones. it’s kinda scary. i think it’s all the eyeliner.” the boy then suddenly ducks his head down, his hands going to cover the top of his head at the incoming fry that just flew over him.

“probably the eyeliner.” jay says in reply, chucking another fry towards ryung’s head, followed by a squeak from the boy. “if he’s going for an edward cullen look, it’s not really working. maybe more like edward cullen about to pounce on a neck. y/n, you better stock up on some turtlenecks.”

“i don’t think edward cullen wears eyeliner.” ryung chirps from under the table, awaiting another fry bullet to shoot his way.

“yeah yeah, you just like to disagree with me, ryung. another word and you earn yourself another fry to the face.”

“y/n,” ryung chirps from under the table, poking his head out to peer up at you over his rounded, wired frames. “you’ve been drooling over heeseung for ages. i think you should make a move.”

“yeah, and fast.” jay chimes in, standing up to get a better view of ryung. he squints his eyes and points his fry right at the sight of a brown curl peeking out from over the table. “suyun’s planning on asking him out before summer break. heard her say it on the phone.”

“guys.” you groan, folding your arms over the table so you can bury your head into them. “i’m not asking him out.” you hear ryung squeak as a slight thud echoes off of his head.

“then get him to ask you out!” the boy under the table exclaims, a sudden ambush of fries flying over in his direction. “i’m tired of hearing you pine.. and of you zoning out. i was trying to talk about how my new bike already has a flat tire.”

“i’d zone out, too.”

“shut up, jay.”

“would you help me, ryung?” you pitifully ask the boy, your question muffled by the fabric of your shirt sleeves. “help me do it…. please.”

“of course, y/n.” ryung peeks out from under the table at jay, squinting his eyes over at his now sitting figure. ryung slowly climbs back into his seat, not breaking eye contact with the scheming blond boy. “consider it….” ryung mumbles, as the two boy’s begin sizing each other up. “operation… sweet talk.”

“ryung… is the notebook necessary?” you groan, letting your chin rest comfortably in the middle of your palm. you and your friend were seated in a stark, blue booth at your usual meeting place, where you hang around with your cheer-mates and the football team after a game. the local diner.

“hm,” ryung taps the end of a blue-ink pen against the curve of his chin, a miniature, spiral notebook fallen open on top of the plastic tabletop in front of him. “yes,” he mumbles, his dark eyebrows tightened into a line as he narrows his eyes at you. “yes, it is necessary. operation sweet talk is in session.”

“this feels like an interrogation.”

“tell me, y/n,” ryung begins lowly in a teasing, serious tone. he leans forward into the table and clasps his hands together in front of him, tonguing the inside of his cheek. you watch the silver chainlink of his necklace fold over against his notebook. “do you see heeseung often at school?”

“um.” you begin, nibbling on your bottom lip. you avert your gaze onto the mustard and ketchup bottles situated in the middle of the table as you think to yourself, glimpses and memories of your school life painting itself across the canvas of your brain. you can only ever remember seeing heeseung at lunch, sitting all the way on the other side of the cafeteria, doodling in a notebook like he always does. “no,” you shake your head softly. “i rarely am within like, ten feet from him.”

“interesting…” ryung mumbles, quirking a brow. he pushes the bridge of his gold frames up his sloped nose, his eyes scanning you up and down before picking up his pen and hunching over his notebook, scribbling fast-paced writings into its crisp page. “… that is so sad. i might have a better chance at asking him out, then.”

you furrow your eyebrows at the brunette boy, lifting the straw of your styrofoam cup to your lips, sucking up the slow, chocolate milkshake inside. “what is that supposed to mean?”

“what i mean,” ryung sighs, lifting up his thick eyebrows. he straightens up his spine to give you a stern look, tapping the end of his pen against his open page. “he’s always sitting up there on the bleachers when i have practice.” he lets out a soft snort, an amused curve lifting to the corner of his lips. “he probably knows more about my existence than yours.”

at the end of ryung’s discouraging statement, you immediately lift your head up from your palm, your eyes widening and your lips falling ajar. “ryung!” you excitedly exclaim, slapping your palm to the middle of the table. “that’s it! that’s the plan!”

the boy quirks his brow at your sudden enlightenment, his eyebrows knitting together slowly. “you…. want me to ask him out for you? that’s kinda…” the boy’s eyes avert to his briefly scribbled page, his facial expression scrunching up with cringe. “that’s kind of…. a terrible, pathetic idea…”

“no, stupid.” you groan, grabbing the pen settled in the middle of his notebook to begin tapping it against the plastic table repeatedly. for affect, of course. “i’ll start coming to your practices so i can talk to him!”

“oh!” the boy chuckles, adjusting the temples of his glasses subtly. “that makes more sense. kind of offended that’s the only way you’d come to my practices, though, y/n.”

“you know how much i hate football, ryung.” you reply teasingly, attempting to flip the pen through your fingers, but failing miserably. “it’s painfully boring.” you watch the boy slowly shake his head at you as a soft chuckle breathes through his parted, pink lips, letting his back fall against the back of the booth.

“if heeseung was the quarterback, it wouldn’t be so boring, now would it?”

“you got me there.” you mumble with an amused smirk, your attention suddenly being pulled away from ryung’s round face to the movement of the diner’s glass doors opening. your mood immediately falters when you recognize the familiar faces flooding right into your territory, faces you’d rather remember in the confinements of football games and the girls’ locker room.

“just why are they here right now?” you whine quietly to ryung, who throws his head back to take a look after being witness to your sorrowful displeasure. ryung then let’s out a groan, the two of you watching the whole football team and your cheer squad make their way to the front counter.

“hey, where’s jay?” ryung mutters with a soft pout, his neck straining as he tilts his head to scan the unnecessarily large group crowding the counter. “i don’t see him.”

“why would jay wanna hang out with these dumb idiots off the field?” you mumble hastily as you slip your bottom lip between your teeth, your brain frantically trying to scheme a way out of here without being seen.

“you know, y/n…. you have a point.”

“let’s go, they’re distracted.” you whisper to your friend as you lean in closer into the table, making sure he can hear you. you keep your eyes trained on the occupied group as you slowly reach over to close ryung’s notebook with the pen settled in the middle of it, sliding it over to yourself. your fingers itch with anticipation as you and ryung scoot yourselves to the end of your seats, preparing to make a run for it. “okay, let’s—”

to your horror, you and ryung painfully watch as hwang, who was located in the back of the malevolent herd of scoundrels, whips right around and begins walking towards the two of you with an idiotic, dopey smile to his pointed features. ah, fuck. you and ryung exchange miserable looks as you both begin sadly sliding yourselves back into your booths. “hey, look, it’s you freakin’ potheads!” hwang calls out loudly in the middle of the diner, his arms outstretched as he makes his way over. now, everyone, including the turd herd, have their heads turned directly towards you. awesome.

“we don’t even smoke weed.” ryung chokes out as hwang begins crushing his ribs in an uncomfortable looking, bent over, side hug.

“sure ya do, you little twink.” hwang chuckles loudly into ryung’s ear, ruffling up the top of his head with his knuckle. “you little lovebirds are gonna bring me some at our football party this saturday, alright? and then we can all partake in a three-way orgy stoned off our fuckin’ heads!”

“for the last time.” you groan, your cheeks flushing with irritation, your leg bobbing with the impatient urge to kick this obnoxious man right where the sun doesn’t shine. “me and ryung aren’t dating. and there will be no baked threesomes. now,” you slide back to the edge of your booth, slowly standing to your feet with ryung’s notebook under your arm. “will you excuse us, we will be leaving now.”

“but we just got here, man!” hwang whines with knitted eyebrows, his blue letterman jacket sliding off of his broad shoulder. he lets go of ryung, and immediately, the two of you quickly slide past hwang’s clutches and weave your way down the expanse of the diner, practically running out through the glass doors to avoid any more mind-numbing interactions.

“hey!” hwang calls as he watches the two of you leave with a soft pout to his lips. “so the kind weed donation is off or what?!”

you can already see him as you squint through the thin lines of your touching eyelashes, shielding your retinas from the harsh rays of serene sunlight. there, perched perfectly on the highest metal rung of bleachers tucked in the far left corner, sat heeseung, his back leaned over into a notebook that sat carefully against his knees.

the gravel crunches below your black converses, your fists folded neatly away in the comfort of your jean pockets. “just go up there.” ryung, who is walking beside you, leans over to mumble quietly into your ear. “and make some small talk.” you let out an anxious whine as you attempt blinking away the intruding sunlight, the football field and heeseung’s sitting figure bleeding closer into your proximity.

you hope the expensive, vanilla perfume you bought online from a tarot card reader wasn’t polluting the air from the amount you sprayed onto your neck. you might have applied a generous amount, but hey, ryung hasn’t pointed it out yet. so just maybe you and the environment around you were safe.

“don’t be a wuss.” ryung teases, the curve of his lip hiking up as he lightly hits you in the butt with his football helmet, his gaze lingering on you through the absence of his usual glasses. “if you end up chickening out on operation sweet talk, might just give him my own number.”

“shut up.” you groan with an amused tilt of your lips, shoving him lightly in his shoulder pad. he lets out a small giggle as the football field now is nothing but a few feet away from you, ryung shortly departing from your lonesome, nervous self.

“hey,” he calls out, throwing his head back as he jogs towards the open part in the fence. he outstretches his arm to point at you with his helmet. “i believe in you! whatever overly sweet spray you’ve got on will do wonders!” you only glare at him meekly before heading down the gravel over towards the bleachers, your heart beating up inside your ears.

“okay, y/n.” you whisper to yourself, your fists growing sweaty in your pockets. “you can do this.” you take a long, deep breath before slowly perching your foot up onto the first metal stair on the end of the bleachers, thanking every god in the sky that heeseung hasn’t looked up yet. as you begin slowly up the steps, your cheeks suddenly flush crimson at the loud echo of metal that rings out with your every step. you wince, not even daring to bat heeseung an eye, knowing he’s probably already staring at you now.

your body flushes with heat as you decide to just pick up your pace, finally stepping onto the final stair, right at the row where heeseung was sitting. you quickly glance over at him, relieved that he’s still just scribbling in that notebook. the slight breeze of the summer weather wafts heeseung’s woodsy cologne right into your nose. you feel as if you could lift yourself off the ground any moment and float your way right over to him, following his scent like a childish cartoon. you quickly blink your aroma-induced lust away and slowly begin making your way down the bleacher aisle.

you feel a little awkward as you sit yourself down a good distance away from the doodling boy. oh god, you think to yourself, i hope ryung isn’t watching me right now. you chew on your bottom lip, your mind suddenly surging with panic as long, painful seconds go by of you just sitting in silence while you listen to heeseung’s pencil scribble against his notebook. god, take me now please.

“um,” you croak out, your heart leaping up your esophagus. you take a shaky breath and furrow your brows down at your shoes. you immediately let the first thought roll off of your tongue without thought. “do you… smell that too?”

heeseung, as if he didn’t even realize someone had seated themselves beside him, immediately snaps his head over towards you, his eyebrows raised into his forehead. he plucks out his earbud that you didn’t even realize he had in, and holds it at his ear, plopping his pencil into the middle of his notebook. “i’m sorry?” he asks softly, his eyebrows furrowing together as he chews on blue raspberry bubblegum between his pearly teeth.

“n-nothing.” you mumble, furrowing your brows nervously as you quickly shake your head. “u-um,” you avert your gaze to his open notebook, a messy sketch of the football field scribbled onto its page. “what’re you uh… what’re you drawing?”

the boy immediately tilts his head down to his drawing, his silver hoop earrings rattling behind overgrown curls of perfectly messy chocolate hair. “uh, well,” he begins with a soft clear of his throat, the corner of his glossy lips curving up slightly as he examines his doodle. “you see the different hues of blue just above the horizon line?” heeseung mumbles, looking up briefly to point a gold ring encircled finger out towards the sky. “just always looks the prettiest up here. so… i just …. just like sketching it sometimes.”

“oh,” you croak softly, your eyebrows raising as you scoot yourself just a little closer to him to examine his sketch better. he notices your movements and tilts his notebook more into your view with a ring embroidered hand, his loud, noisy music blaring subtly from his exposed earbud. “that’s actually really good.”

“you think so?” heeseung mumbles with a quirk of his brow, the corner of his lip still raised. his eyes flicker carefully among the contents of his page. “thank you, i appreciate it. so, uh, come up here to watch the practice, or what?”

“uh, yeah.” you begin, your eyes then turning to peer out at the variety of players scattered along the football field, subconsciously looking for your four eyed friend. “you see number 12 out there?” you suddenly ask when you spot ryung in the middle of the field. you point your finger out towards him, heeseung’s gaze following it. “i’m here to watch him, actually.”

heeseung’s lips fall ajar slightly, his chin ticking up in realization. “oh,” he mumbles, his eyebrows raising. he then looks back down at his notebook, observing his drawing with furrowed eyebrows. “alright.”

tense silence suddenly surrounds the air encircling both of you, twiddling your thumbs awkwardly as you desperately and quickly try to flick through the files inside your brain for something to say, something to really make an impression. your ears are suddenly met with pencil on paper again, and a brief click of heeseung’s tongue beats you to the podium.

“good job at pool the other day,” heeseung mumbles through a subtle, sly curve of his lip, eyebrows slowly furrowing as he seems to be focused on outlining the white patterns of his drawn football field. “by the way.” he quickly adds, sweat beginning to gleam against his exposed biceps. he quickly flips his pencil in his palm to erase a wonky curve, the wood clanking with his chunky finger jewelry.

for some reason this brings heat to the apples of your cheeks, your brain running a mile a minute. you didn’t notice your mind had completely ran dry until heeseung lifts his head up towards you at your silence, his smirk parting to reveal the bottoms of his lined teeth. “thanks,” you finally nervously chuckle, reaching a hand up to brush back the hair in your face. “it really was just… just luck, to be honest.” the way heeseung had paused his pencil movements to study your reddening face, makes sweat bead along your brow.

his hooded gaze lingers just a second longer, the black t-shirt he had stuffed up under his studded belt sticks to his slouched abdomen from the brushes of the breeze. you try your best not to look. “you’ve never played pool before?” he finally asks you softly, flicking out of his stare to go back to shading his drawing. the slight curve of his lip and the tones of his statements almost feel as if he’s playing with you, teasing with you, toying with how much information you’re willing to give him.

“no, actually.” you finally reply, watching the tip of his pencil slowly curve against his page as he outlines the horizon. “that was… my first time. like ever.”

“yeah?” he quirks, the curve growing against his pink lips. “you’ve got… you’ve got some potential. if you let me teach you how to really play, we could put that potential to use, y/n.”

“i don’t know about that,” you nervously chuckle, your eyelids squinting against the beaming sun as you lift your head up to gaze out into the football field, your eyes following your curly haired friend as he rushes down the grass with a football under his arm. “i don’t really want to improve in that area. not really something i’d ever wanna do again. ever. but… i appreciate the offer, god of pool.”

right after the words roll off your tongue, heeseung immediately throws his head back in breathy chuckles, his eyes squeezing shut. “wow.” he mutters amusingly, shaking his head subtly as he playfully tongues the inside of his cheek. “don’t think i’ve ever been called that before. not sure if i should be…. flattered or offended.”

“maybe both.” you mumble teasingly, your gaze shifting back to his now fully drawn football field. your eyes roam around the curves and shadings of the sky horizon, your eyebrows raising with genuine impression.

suddenly, a lightbulb goes off into your head, a malicious grin pressing at the back of your lips as the most cunning idea of getting heeseung’s attention slithers through the crevices of your brain. you bat your eyelashes over at him innocently. “hey, have you ever… drawn people?”

his eyes immediately flicker back over to yours, his teeth beginning to nibble on his bottom lip curiously. his eyebrows furrow and he cocks his head slightly at you, his eyes traveling around your features as if trying to read you. he then slips his lip out of his teeth with a sharp, hushed chuckle, picking up his pencil and hunching back over his notebook, scribbling lightly against his drawn fence of the football field. “uh, no,” he mumbles, that amused smirk still teetering on the edge of his lip. “i can’t say that i have.” he then mumbles his next sentence with a curious, almost sultry tone that you recognize all too well. he blows a quick blue bubble with his gum, before it pops seconds after. “why do you ask?”

you shrug lightly, your gaze averting down to your lap as you begin to pick at your cuticles. “i don’t know,” you mumble, your cheeks beginning to flush with a nervous twinge crawling up your spine. “just curious.”

your body almost tingles at the low, rasped hum that slips easily out of heeseung’s nose, his attention still glued to his notebook. “just curious?” he asks again, in a tone you cant figure out. “you can ask me the question, i’m not gonna bite.”

your body immediately flushes with heat. “what question?” you ask him in mock-sincerity, watching as he swipes away eraser dust from his page.

“you… are you asking me to draw you?”

“uh,” you begin nervously, his heavy cologne making your brain turn to mush. “only if you want to.” he then looks back over at you, his eyebrows raised up behind his long, curly fringe. you can see the smudged eyeliner lining his eyes and the subtle, silver piercings that line the edge of his earlobe.

“okay.” he chuckles softly, furrowing his eyebrows in a way that only makes you feel dumb for bringing it up. as if on cue, the coach down below on the football field blows a whistle, which causes heeseung to close his notebook and straighten his spine. no other words are spoken between the two of you, as you painfully watch him stand to his feet and jog lightly down the bleacher steps. once heeseung’s making his way down the gravel, you immediately let out an embarrassed groan, letting your head fall into your palms.

never doing that again. now i have a valid reason to never attend ryung’s practices. no hard feelings?

“quiet.” a white haired lady dotted in over-the-top emerald green eyeshadow scowls at you and ryung by the fiction section, lifting a bony finger to her pursed, thin lips. you and ryung immediately both flush with red, muttering an array of sorry’s. you watch as the librarian finally walks away from the section, leaving you and ryung alone again hidden in the back of the library.

“so what i was trying to say was,” ryung whispers, leaning his back against the wooden shelf lined up the wall. he sticks his hands into his denim jacket pockets, before pushing up the bridge of his glasses with a finger. “you think that you blew it with edward cullen in eyeliner two days ago. can you remind me why, again?”

“yes, ryung,” you whisper harshly, your back up against the shelf right in front of the boy. you cross your arms over your chest and furrow your brows solemnly. “i asked him to draw me. he probably thought i was so embarrassing. that’s probably why i haven’t seen him in two days. maybe he’s avoiding me. i wanna back out of operation sweet talk. now. i resign from my position, chief.”

“hey.” ryung frowns, knitting his eyebrows together as he plucks a book from the shelf behind him, taking a quick step closer to you to wack you in the arm with it. “there will be no resigning. you’re just overthinking. give it a few more tries before you give up. you don’t wanna see him frolicking in the freshly dewed grass with suyun on his arm next year, do you?”

you glare at him, a pout jutting at your lips. “…. no.”

“okay then.” ryung rolls his eyes, turning the book over in his hand to observe the cover. his face distorts into disgust when he sees its little women, and immediately shoves it back onto the shelf. “anyway,” he sighs, turning back towards you with a side smirk. “hwang’s football party is coming up, maybe you can—” his eyes immediately dart over to something behind you in the distance, his lips pursing into a line and his eyes widening behind his frames. “um… y/n. don’t turn around.”

your heart begins beating quickly inside your chest with curiosity, your eyebrows tightening above your eyes as you slowly turn around, peeking your head out behind the safety of your wooden shelving. your eyes suddenly land on heeseung, his arm around suyun’s shoulder as hushed laughter takes over both of them. you watch as they walk right by the sci-fi section. your heart immediately sinks to your stomach. ryung sighs. “… okay, i was wrong. they might already be frolicking in freshly dewed grass…. together.”

you let a small sigh pass through your lips, a small lump developing in your throat. “it’s okay,” you mumble, slowly turning back around towards ryung. “i get it, really. suyun’s a super attractive girl and she seems to be… seems to be super amazing to get along with and very funny, as i can see, considering they’re.. laughing and touching, and—”

“y/n.” ryung groans, taking a step closer towards you and grabs your arm, pulling you away from the fiction section. “stop you’re wallowing.”

you groan behind the boy. “where are we going?”

“well,” ryung sighs, dragging you throughout the aisles of books. “i just remembered i need to do a non-fiction book report about a predatory-prey animal relationship before friday.”

“… ryung, it’s thursday.”

“i know.” the boy replies in a disgruntled tone, his pace slowing down as the two of you near the vast book shelf of non fiction books. he slowly lets go of your arm, his gaze wondering around the infinite number of exposed spines. he places his hands on his hips, slipping his lip between his teeth. “it’s a very urgent matter, if you cannot tell.”

“yeah,” you snort, crossing your arms over your chest as you study your friend. “considering you put it off until the last minute. very good time management skills ryung, i must say.”

“why, thank you.” the boy mutters, running his fingers along the array of book spines, his eyes squinting as he reads the fine print lining each one. “man, i might just have to ask if i can extend my due date until monday. but if i do that, i’d have to study instead of going to the football party. so that would suck.”

“ryung,” you groan, leaning your side into the bookshelf, eyes observing your friend’s side profile. “don’t make me go alone.”

“just ask heeseung.”

“no. he probably already asked suyun. you know what, if you’re not going, then i’m not going.”

“you know what, y/n,” ryung mutters, plucking out a thick picture book with a prowling cheetah printed on the cover. he opens it up briefly and flips through its pages. “i’m not gonna do that to you. i’ll go, but i might be in the corner with my nose in a… cheetah survival instincts… book.”

you let out a relieved sigh, pushing yourself away from the bookshelf. “that works, ryung. that’s completely fine with me.” you suddenly freeze at the faint sounds of footsteps suddenly approaching shortly behind you, before you hear a light whisper right above your ear.

“y/n.”

at the sound of the all too familiar low-set voice, you quickly turn around in your spot, making sure ryung’s back was to you so he doesn’t witness you embarrass yourself. your eyes are suddenly met with heeseung’s, who’s dark lined brown orbs are hidden behind strands of dark brown hair, a half curve to his glossy lips and a mischievous glint hidden inside his dark eyes. before you can even part your drying lips to speak, the boy whispers again. “open your palm.” you blink up at him, before registering his words and lifting up your palm, spreading out your fingers.

“what’s….?”

you watch as the tall boy stuffs a quick hand into his pocket, his eyes never leaving your curious features. he slips out a folded up piece of notebook paper, and places it right in the center of your palm. “hope you don’t mind the quality,” he rasps lowly, “may have had to rush a bit.” your brain goes blank with a variety of burning, raging questions, only being able to watch as he begins walking backwards, the curve on his lip spreading into an admiring, amused smile. “see you around, y/n.” the dim lights of the library highlight his adam’s apple as he lifts his chin up slightly, observing you under his eyelashes. he then slips cooly back behind the bookshelf, his footsteps now becoming a distant thud.

you stand there, your brain trying to process everything that had just happened. ryung had now approached you, his quiet voice being heard over your shoulder. “um… y/n. what did he just give you?” you swallow the dryness in your throat and slowly look down at the crumbled piece of paper in your hand, before you slowly unfold it with a slow, inhaling, suspenseful breath.

ryung gasps softly under his breath. “oh…. my god.”

once you’ve unfolded the paper between your fingers, your mouth falls ajar at the image, your cheeks flushing red. scribbled beautifully onto the page, was a drawing of you, sitting on top of a sloppily outlined counter. a cup with a straw was positioned between your hands, the tip of the straw hidden behind puckered lips. your cheeks were dusted with a red color pencil and written lazily in the bottom corner of the page, was heeseung’s signature. right under it in minuscule letters read the date. exactly last saturday, when you had played pool at the bar.

“wait a fucking minute.” ryung whispers in your ear, your heartbeat throbbing in your eardrums. “is that you…. at the bar last weekend?!”

“i think… i think it is.” you mumble in utter shock, not being able to tear away your gaze from heeseung’s unexpected drawing. “look,” you whisper sharply, placing a finger on top of the scribbled drink in your tiny, pencil sketched hand. “my chocolate milkshake…”

“okay, y/n,” ryung chuckles nervously, backing away from your shoulder. “if i were you, i’d either be super flattered or super creeped out. i don’t know which one you should be.”

“i don’t know either, ryung.” you mumble, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. “i don’t know, but i’m feeling super attracted to him right now.”

“ew. stop being weird.” ryung mutters, shaking his head teasingly at you with furrowed, hidden brows. he then turns back towards the nonfiction books and crosses his arms over his chest, a dry chuckle passing his lips. “god, you kids are crazy. i’m trying to look for my nonfiction book over here, and guinevere beck is drooling over the picture joe goldberg drew of her last weekend. awesome. this sounds like it’s gonna play out great.”

“you’re so supportive, ryung.”

“next thing you know, edward cullen is gonna suck bella’s blood before she can even say lee heeseung.”

“this is why you’re single.”

throughout the rest of your mind-numbing, boring school day, the only thing that ran inside your mind like a hamster on a spinning wheel, was heeseung and his drawing. your leg bobbed feverishly as you sat at your desk in economics class, mind distorting and blurring the sleep-induced words of your teacher, nothing but visions of that crumbled piece of paper melting through the cracks of your subconscious. as you ate lunch, as you studied in the student cafe, as you talked to your cheer friends in science class. it was consuming your whole entire being, it was devouring you whole.

it was eating at your system so much, that right before your cheer practice after school, you walked right out through the back double doors and right down to the field. you kept the folded drawing warm in the confinements of your jean pocket, your fist softly clutching the parchment as if afraid it might run away. your shoes crunched the gravel below you, eyes observing the football players gathering onto the vast field. i’m going to talk to him.

but unfortunately, to your dismay, you soon figure out that the boy is nowhere to be seen. the bleachers deemed themselves vacant, and it only brought a sour feeling to spread in the pit of your stomach. as you sulkily traveled up the gravelly hill back into the building, you check your surroundings. heeseung is no where in sight. of course this disappointed you, considering you were going to thank the boy for such a thoughtful, admiring, unexpected gesture. but now you couldn’t, and you don’t know just when you’ll get the opportunity again.

hiking up your short, blue and gold cheer skirt, the loud, echoing voices of the girl’s locker room settles inside your eardrums. the room is humid and makes your cheer top almost impossible to put on, considering the stickiness blooming on top of your skin. your mood was already faltered from the absence of lee heeseung, that there was no point in conversing with your cheer mates. you had already established this thought in your head, when a familiar, squeaky, annoying voice chirps right into your ear.

“y/n!” suyun squeaks, making your head want to physically pop like a pimple right off of your body. you imagined the puss would squirt all over rhee suyun. “are you going to go to hwang’s party after the game on saturday?” you don’t even dare turning around to look at this beady eyed rat right into her sinister little eyes. you begin fetching your comb from your open locker, quickly beginning to comb out the length of your hair.

“i don’t know.” you mumble, not willing to repeat yourself if she asked. “i always go, don’t i?”

“well yeah,” suyun chuckles, spraying heavy amounts of flower scented body spray all over herself. “i just ask this time because, well, i don’t want you to be sad when you see me and heeseung together. that’s really all.”

you pause your comb’s motions midway in your hair, clenching your teeth together. anger rises up your spine and blooms throughout your chest, your eyelids fluttering shut to maintain your own sanity.

“yeah, y/n…. i know you have a thing for him. i heard jay telling that little gay boy with the glasses on the phone last night.” her tone was almost too innocent, acting like she wasn’t the most vile being to ever hang around. you decide to stay silent, slowly finishing your brushing. “it’s okay, no hard feelings. at least you know he’s mine now, right? glad we could chit-chat, y/n!” you hear her locker slam with a soft thud, before her white tennis shoes clunk swiftly down the slick, locker room floor.

yeah, you think to yourself, as you push your locker door shut, hastily tying your hair up with your usual gold ribbon. your mind flickers with images of heeseung’s sweet drawing and the rosy blush he gave you, despite the fact that any possible blush you could have had that day would’ve been completely invisible from the low lights. he’s aaaalll yours.

god, ironically enough, you wish ryung was here. the one night you were supposed to go clothes shopping for hwang’s party, exactly one day prior, jay calls him up for help on his nonfiction predatory-prey book report. and who’s one to say no to their secret football crush only you’re aware of? not choi min-ryung. you’re fine with it really, you’re just walking by yourself down the risky, shop heavy part of town in the rain at 10pm. psh, you don’t need him.

you let out a solemn sigh as the plastic bag strap between your fingers grows clammy through the feverish, cooling air. your pace is slow and patient as the bottoms of your shoes clobber down the stone sidewalks lining the lines of shops by your right, all decorated with illuminating fairy lights and crimped, pastel awnings. you let your heavy shopping bag containing denim shorts and fishnet stalkings bump up against your legs as you walk, mentally groaning at the increasing amount of drizzles plopping on top of your head.

under the glinting moonlight, your eyes scan for any possible shop that would contain face paint of any sort, knowing the whole cheer squad and football team would be participating with cheeks striped with blue and gold. you can’t be the only one without it. as you walk by a craft store, your eyes trained on its beaded jewelry display, you’re suddenly startled by someone clearing their throat rather loudly beside its entrance.

you halt suddenly in your tracks, eyes trying to focus in on the figure sitting beside the entrance, their back against the brick. it’s hard to study them under the dim street lamp lights, only coming to the realization once the bellowing smoke cloud pouring from their lips simply dissolves under flickering, orange light. heeseung. “well, aren’t you a daring girl. seems a little dangerous to walk by yourself at night, huh, y/n?”

you watch in shock as he peers over at you under half lidded eyes, the back of his head lolling towards you as it leans against the brick. you watch the curve of his lip and the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows, his layered, brown hair brushed back from his forehead. he studies your frozen expression and lifts his eyebrows at you, his ringed thumb flicking ash from the back of his cigarette.

shit. should have wore my perfume. “uh,” you mumble, watching the glint of his silver, dangly star earrings. “i know, but… i’m fine.” is all you can mutter out as you watch him place his cigarette back between his parted lips. “what are you um,” your cross your arms nervously over your chest in an attempt of mock-confidence. “what’re you doing out here? stalking me?”

heeseung let’s out a short chuckle, eyebrows furrowing as smoke begins blowing out of his nostrils. “no, y/n.” he then lifts up the plastic bag seated beside him that you didn’t notice before. “same thing as you, i can see.” you nod slowly at his shopping bag, your eyes lingering on his figure as the top of your head is suddenly being pelted with raindrops.

“ah,” you squeak, reaching your arms up above your head, as if that’ll stop the water’s ruthless beatings. you watch as heeseung climbs to his feet, dropping his cigarette down towards the sidewalk.

“c’mon, before it gets worse.” he reaches his hand out towards the craft store door, fingers wrapping around the door handle. he opens up the glass door for you, waiting for your figure to step inside. you quickly head inside the air conditioned store, an immediate sigh of relief slipping past your lips.

“thank you,” you mumble to him as he files in right behind you, the door closing with a slight thud. “maybe they’ll have face paint.” you mutter, eyes beginning to roam the infinite amount of uniquely lined shelves. you wonder down the first aisle you see, faint pop music wafting it’s way into your eardrums. your eyes scan the shelves briefly, acknowledging their souvenir-like knick knacks. you didn’t realize heeseung had been following you until you hear his soft voice somewhere close behind you.

“so, where’s your boyfriend?” you hear him ask, causing your heart rate to increase and your eyebrows to furrow. you slowly turn around in your spot, eyes narrowed on heeseung’s figure that was leaning coyly into the end of the shelf, one hand stuffed into the pocket of his ripped, black skinny jeans. his cheeks were surprisingly dusted with red, a shade you haven’t seen on the boy before.

“who’s my boyfriend?” you ask him hesitantly, watching his eyebrows tighten confusingly. he tongues the inside of his cheek and let’s a curious half smile tick up his cheek, his stuffed-in black button up clinging slightly to his abdomen.

“uh..” heeseung begins hesitantly, his eyebrows tightening even more above his brown, doe eyes. “you know… kid with glasses. number 12..?” you notice the way the red in his cheeks deepen just a little more.

the gears of your brain begin turning, a light red blooming at your own cheeks. “ryung?” you begin shaking your head softly, your lip tensing with a soft curve. “ryung is not my boyfriend. ryung is gay. he’s just my best friend.”

“oh,” heeseung let’s out an embarrassed, nervous chuckle, reaching a toned arm up to rub at the back of his neck. his eyes dart to a hawaiian bobble head on the nearby shelf. “that… that makes sense. i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize.” you giggle softly, flashing him a comforted smile. you turn your attention back towards the tacky knickknacks, plucking one off of the shelf to examine it in your palm. “he, uh, bailed on me last minute. to answer your question.” you see in your peripheral vision heeseung reaching out for a knick knack on the same shelf, turning it over into his palm.

“he’s not a very good friend, then, hm?” he mumbles, his tongue peeking out briefly to moisten his lips. “leaving you by your lonesome like this.” he then makes three tsk noises with his tongue, his head shaking teasingly. “highly irresponsible.”

“it’s not like i’m alone now,” you mumble, your finger dragging along the shelved objects as you slowly begin down the aisle. “you’re here with me.” you hear heeseung hum behind you, his signature, woodsy cologne floating into your senses.

“how do you know you can trust me?” he mumbles, eyes trained on the shelves. “you don’t really know me very well, y/n. i could be a criminal waiting to jump you and take all your money.”

you let out a short chuckle. “you’re right, kinda sounds like something you’d do. considering you drew me without my knowledge at the bar last weekend.”

“…. not gonna lie, that one hurt.”

you giggle at his reply, stopping in your tracks when you spot packs of face paint hung on metal rungs towards the bottom of the shelf. “thank you for the drawing…. by the way. i really liked it.” heat blooms to your neck as you slowly crouch down, fingers brushing along the words lining the packages. “just curious, what inspired you to draw me that day?”

heeseung hums low in his throat again, his fist rummaging inside his pocket for his cigarette pack. an admiring smile etches into his cheeks and lifts his rounded ears, strands of his hair falling into his eyes. “remember on the bleachers i told you that the skyline was just so pretty up there, i had to draw it?”

you pause your finger’s motions, heat blooming across your neck and throughout your body. “yes.”

you hear the flicker of heeseung’s lighter. “should you need a further explanation?”

you stay crouched down, ears tuning into heeseung’s scorching words, the tips of your ears burning red. “so… you think i’m pretty?” you ask him hesitantly, glad that your crimson cheeks were hidden from heeseung’s view.

“no,” he mumbles, after blowing out smoke from his new cigarette. “i think that you’re beautiful.”

you felt as if your body could melt into the ceramic tile flooring. “um,” you begin, your temples pulsing anxiously. “so… why didn’t suyun tag along with you tonight?” you ask him quietly, quickly trying to change the subject so you don’t embarrass yourself further.

“she’s already got tomorrow sorted out.” heeseung replies softly, leaning back into the shelving. you slowly climb back up to your feet, with two packages of face paint in your hold. “she also uh,” heeseung begins, a teasing smile edging at his lips as he quickly glances down towards the ground, lifting his cigarette to his lips. he takes in a huff as you turn towards him with anticipating eyes, his eyebrows quirking as smoke bellows out of his nostrils again. “she told me something about you.”

you suddenly widen your eyes, your brain remembering the last, dreadful conversation you had with the beady-eyed girl. your heart begins to thrash quickly against your chest. “what did she say?”

heeseung studies your facial features, that same, taunting smirk playing at the edge of his lip. “she said you have a secret you’re hiding from me. she wouldn’t tell me what it was, though.” he then cocks his head at you, his eyebrows furrowing teasingly. you watch the edge of his long, star earring dance against his shoulder. “anything you’d like to add on that subject?”

you swallow nervously in your throat, avoiding his intimidating, intense gaze. you pretend to peer down at the face paint between your fingertips. “…um, no. i don’t even.. i don’t even know what she’s talking about.” god, you sound so unconvincing. you wish you were a better liar.

“yeah?” he quirks, his tongue swiftly rolling against the inside of his cheek and out between his lips, taking one step closer towards you. “y/n.” he whispers, leaning his head down closer towards your own. he props his elbow up against the shelf, leaning his side into his arm. his cologne burns your nostrils. heat blooms across your cheeks as you watch his eyes study your lips. “i’ll tell you my secret, if you tell me yours.”

your throat grows dry, slowly taking a step back from his looming, lanky figure. “i…. i can’t right now.” you tell him through a bite of your lip, watching his eyes examine your nervous features. “later. okay? i promise.”

heeseung narrows his eyes at you teasingly, his slender fingers slowly pushing his cigarette back between the comfort of his lips. “okay.” is all he mumbles, a sly curve growing up the side of his lip. the air seems to grow tense as you head for the checkout line, the manager catching heeseung smoking and kicks him out of the store. you giggle to yourself as you watch him exit through the glass door, a lingering thought dancing on the edges of your brain.

hwang’s party was absolutely nothing like you imagined, considering you thought it’d be held in his mother’s run-down basement. you stand right outside the gymnasium entrance, mascara coated eyelashes blinking up at the huge blue banner hung across the top of the doorframe that read go ravens! in tacky, gold glittered writing. there were hundreds of students filing in and out of the gym, all decorated in the properly colored spirit attire.

you feel your brain pulsing with each techno beat that pounds through the ginormous overhead speakers. you lean over towards ryung beside you, who was clad in his blue and gold ravens jersey and ripped, denim skinny jeans. “has hwang always had this many friends?”

you watch as ryung eyes the gym entrance with intimidated, wide eyes, his finger slowly reaching up to push on the bridge of his glasses. he slowly shakes his head at your question. “i don’t think so….”

“oh,” you shortly gasp, “did you bring your non-fiction book? for studying purposes?”

ryung chuckles nervously, a red color spreading to the expanse of his cheeks. “um, no…. i left it at jay’s house.”

you snort at his confession and slap him briefly in the back. “good job, dummy.”

you had asked ryung prior for his blue letterman jacket, considering you couldn’t find the right shirt for the occasion, and decided to wear it today over a plain, black cropped camisole. your fishnet stalkings sat uncomfortably tight under your shorts and against your skin, having to adjust yourself every few minutes. your hair had been tied up with your golden cheer ribbon, matching hairstyles with all of your cheermates. you almost reached up to itch your cheek but quickly changed your mind when you realized you’d smudge your blue and gold cheek stripes. “so… are you ready to go in now, or…. do you wanna stand out here like idiots for a few more minutes?”

“no, let’s go.” ryung chirps, clapping his hands together. he quickly begins heading towards the gymnasium entrance, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “c’mon, y/n, i heard they spiked the punch this year.” you roll your eyes and nervously begin following your friend inside, intimidated by the large groups of people around you. you and ryung suddenly halt to a quick stop though, when hwang suddenly jumps out in front of you.

“aye, my stoner loners made it!” the boy hollers, his shaggy blond hair adorning a blue stripe right down the middle of his head. he then pulls the both of you into a bone-crushing bear hug. the two of you groan. “bring me that promised devil’s lettuce, or what, kiddos?”

“hwang, please get me out of your armpit.” you groan, your nose face first into the warm, onion-scented cave of his forbidden forest. “please, before i start violently sobbing.”

“sorry, sorry,” hwang chuckles nervously, letting the two of you out of his clutches. “you guys go out there, and have some fun, alright?” he beams, placing both of his hands in the air for the two of you to high five. you and ryung hesitantly do so. “yeah! though i’d watch out for that spiked punch if you wanna be able to drive home tonight!”

hwang let’s out a fit of loud laughter, smacking the two of you hard into your backs before drifting off to converse with other new party attendees. the two of you stand dumbfounded in the middle of the action like little lost puppies, not sure what to do next. “do you want to.. um.. check out the food first.. or..?” you begin to ask, before jay is trudging himself through the crowd of already sweat-covered bodies right towards the two of you.

“c’mon, children,” the boy says through a half smile, clad in a black t-shirt thrown over a royal blue, long-sleeved undershirt. he pops the bubbelgum between his teeth and grabs both of your wrists, dragging you through the hoard. “i saved you guys some seats at my table.”

jay leads the both of you over towards a large round table lined up beside the other round tables by the gym wall, all decked out in gold tablecloths. two of jay’s buddies from the football team already occupy their seats, your eyes landing on the two open ones right beside jay. he pulls out both of the black, plastic chairs for both of you, keeping his grip there as you sit down against the plastic. he leans his head down between you two, so he can speak over the loud commotion of party goers. “what do you guys want to drink?” he asks loudly over the pulsing of the speakers, your eyes just now noticing his gold, glittery eyeshadow.

“uh,” you shake your head softly. “i don’t want anything right now. thanks, though.” jay nods at you, before turning his head softly towards ryung.

“do you wanna go get some of that spiked punch?” he asks the boy excitedly with a grin curving at his lips, which results in ryung hopping right out of his seat.

“fuck, yes!” jay then drags ryung back through the crowd, leaving you alone by two dudes you don’t even know. you’re not sure just how long the two boys are going to stay there, god knows what they’ll be doing, so you let out a small sigh and stand up from your seat.

right as you stood up, you noticed the lighting of the room had changed. from a bright, pink illuminating haze to a deep, purple one, darkening the gym and everyone’s facial features. the song had changed too, now sounding a little bit more and r&b and a lot more dreamier. you reach down to adjust the stockings sitting against your skin as you slowly emerge towards the center of the gym, where students were either seen dancing, making-out, or swaying lightly with their friends.

you nibble on your bottom lip as you subconsciously scan around the gymnasium for that one familiar face. after a good few seconds of not spotting the dark haired boy, you had concluded to yourself that he probably just wasn’t there yet. walking further towards the hectic crowd, your world suddenly comes crashing down onto you when you spot him. not only did you spot him, you also spotted suyun, who was indeed swallowing his face. they were kissing. rather fervently you might add, watching their hands claw all over each other. you suddenly felt dizzy, your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach.

there was something off about heeseung’s gaze though, but it was hard to see under the dark purple lights. you squint, walking further into the crowd, noticing his eyes aren’t closed, nor are they on suyun. they’re right, directly centered on you.

this makes your heart rate increase, now being bumped by surrounding bodies. your chest suddenly surges with adrenaline and with anger, a lump now forming in the back of your throat. an idea flickers to life up inside your brain, and you immediately begin weaving through the crowd. you trudge your way to the refreshments table, where jay and ryung still linger by. they seemed to be taking shots of the punch and laughing to each other when you approach them, your temples pulsing with frustration.

“ryung.” you begin firmly, trying not to let your lip quiver. the boy’s laughter immediately dies down at your troubled expression, setting down his shot glass and walking closer towards you.

“hey,” he stuffs his hands into his pockets. “hey, what’s wrong?” you can tell he’s getting tipsy by the slur of his words, but you don’t even care right now. you grab onto his wrist and pull him into the crowd, where he begins protesting. “hey!” he exclaims confusingly, letting you drag him through the students. “what are you doing?”

your eyes quickly scan the group for heeseung and suyun again, your teeth nervously chewing on your bottom lip. you spot them, their lips still locked and his eyes still on you, and you turn back towards ryung. “ryung.” you begin firmly with raised brows, grabbing him by the shoulders. “i’m going to make-out with you.” the boy blinks, the color draining in his face and his eyes widening. his body goes stiff.

“what—?”

you immediately cut him off when you crash your lips onto his, the feeling immediately uncomfortable. you could tell the hesitancy in ryung’s rhythm, but he quickly responds the deeper the kiss becomes. you keep your hands tight on his shoulders as his hands find your waist, too drunk out of his mind to even make sense of the situation. you flick your gaze towards heeseung a few heads away from you, the music drifting loudly into the pits of your eardrums.

nothing else matters in the moment except heeseung, your eyes warning him, communicating with him. his eyes do the same, as his own kiss with suyun grows deeper and messier, his eyebrows furrowing in your direction. he’s got to be drunk, you think to yourself, as you stick your tongue in ryung’s mouth. what is heeseung doing? your mind was racing with questions that you didn’t have time to acknowledge, all you had to do was just keep kissing ryung and keep your gaze on heeseung’s, who’s eyes never falter from yours.

who’s it gonna be? your eyes seem to say, as you can feel the lump growing in the back of your throat. look away from me, do it. your eyes look at him with plead, with hurt, your mouth growing tired against ryung’s. is he doing this out of spite? your temples were pulsing and ryung was beginning to pull away, when heeseung parts from suyun first.

the boy disappears from suyun before you could even notice, your eyes beginning to blink tears from your eyelashes. ryung can feel it against his cheeks, and he slowly pulls away from you. “am i that bad of a kisser?” he slurs, his hair sticking up in places and his cheeks rosy.

“no.” you grumble, reaching forward to fix his crooked glasses. your neck starts to grow red with guilt, suddenly feeling ashamed for pulling ryung into it. “ryung.. i’m sorry i—”

“it’s okay, y/n.” ryung smirks softly, eyes flickering between yours. suddenly he’s being pulled away by jay’s eager hand, and he throws his head over at you before allowing himself to be dragged away. “i kinda liked it!”

you roll your eyes at ryung’s obvious drunken behavior, now suddenly being shoved around by more surrounding students. tears were threatening to spill from behind your waterline, and your head was beginning to throb with a raging headache. you were feeling hurt and betrayed even if it wasn’t your place to be, you just couldn’t help it. this boy knew what he was doing with your emotions like he always did, and that split your heart right down the middle.

your vision became blurry and your throat was beginning to burn, your gaze pointed down towards the overcrowded floor as you start weaving your way through the tightly packed gymnasium, shoving people’s shoulders and bumping their hips. you suddenly squeak to an unexpected halt when a warm pair of arms begin wrapping themselves around your waist from behind. heat immediately blooms across your already flushed face, the gears in your brain pausing their rotations. you feel a sharp chin being placed on the curve of your shoulder. “well, aren’t you just a pretty little snake?”

heeseung. your jaw clenches with bubbling anger, the tears becoming warm behind your eyelashes. “what is that supposed to mean?” your voice is wavered and quieter than you wanted it to be, but you couldn’t help it and you didn’t care. your blood was boiling and your mind was spinning.

“thought you said ryung wasn’t your boyfriend.” he whispers confidently into your ear, his breath reeking of mint and the slightest hint of alcohol.

“i thought suyun wasn’t your girlfriend.” you declare hesitantly, lacing your arms frustratingly over your chest. the heat from his embrace was making your skin prickle, the dreamy music from the speakers now a distant blur in the depths of your ear canal.

“she’s not.” heeseung quickly retorts, fingernails picking at the golden studs in your belt.

“then why were you kissing her?” your temples begin pulsing even more, sweat now trickling down the side of your cheek. you were annoyed. you just wanted to go home. silence begins embracing the both of you, the loud chatter and noises from the surrounding students filling in the white noise.

you hear heeseung inhale slowly, his arms further encircling your figure, trying to become closer to you. his chest was pushed up against your back and his face was right beside your neck, his body practically meshed with yours. “she started kissing me first, and i was going to pull away, but i saw you walk in. i was trying to make you jealous.”

this only made anger rattle up against your system even more, your jaw clenching in utter irritation. your mind was swimming with confusion, your brain about to explode inside your skull. your lips part hesitantly, your tongue laying dry inside your mouth. “what…?”

heeseung’s breath grows closer into your neck, his nose brushing up your jawline. goosebumps began to erupt all across your body, his breath warm in your ear. “i’ll tell you my secret….” he whispers, his embrace growing impossibly tighter. “if you tell me yours.”

you swallow the large lump settled warm inside your throat, your heart rate beating loudly inside your eardrums. you nibble at your lip and contemplate your next move, your mind going over everything that had just happened in the span of thirty minutes. you knew deep down exactly what heeseung’s secret was, you knew it was obvious. this was your chance, your one time opportunity to tell this boy how you feel about him, despite all the pent up anger you’ve been storing inside yourself. so with a shaky breath, and a hesitant tongue, you slowly turn around in heeseung’s grasp.

his hands stay warm on your waist as you settle your palms against the damp skin of his neck, the paint stripes on his cheeks nothing but faint smudges. your eyes examine his disheveled, crimped hair and smokey, black eyeshadow, his silver hoop earrings and his collared, unbuttoned blue t-shirt. a silver chain rested comfortably against his collarbones and the hem of his shirt hid behind his usual studded belt and black skinny jeans. your eyes nervously gaze up into his own, where a worried, flushed expression takes over his admiring features. “i like you.” you whisper to him, the words foreign on your tongue. your thumb brushes up against his prominent jawline. “now tell me your secret.”

you watch his neck as he swallows slowly, his eyes flickering among your features. the edge of his lip suddenly curves up subtly, his eyes panning down to gaze at your glossed lips. “i’ve known about your little game this whole time.”

as if your heart wasn’t already jolting out of your ribcage, you feel as if you could puke up the pulsing muscle any second now. your face immediately drains of color and you furrow your eyebrows hesitantly. “you.. did? what… how? how did you know?”

“let’s just say,” heeseung softly chuckles, cocking his head at you. he scrunches his nose for effect in his next words. “suyun overheard jay talking about it last week. and suyun tells me everything.”

“so,” you begin, your palms beginning to grow warm against his neck. for some reason, the lump in your throat was developing quickly again. god, jay, you little shit. “you knew this whole time, but you still led me on? you still played around with me? is that what’s happening?”

“y/n.” heeseung begins softly with raised eyebrows, pulling you closer into his chest. he leans his head down towards your ear, where he noses down your jawline. “i’ve got more than one secret.”

you can feel him smirk up against your cheek. you blink, your cheeks growing flushed as everyone around you becomes an afterthought. you could predict his next words, but oh, how you wanted to hear him say it. “can you tell me…?”

“are you sure you don’t have one more?” heeseung whispers, his lips stretching into a lazy smile as he nibbles the flesh of your cheek, his slender hands traveling along the curves of your waistband. “i think you’ve got another.. dirty lil’ secret in the back of your mind. i’d like you to share it with me first, y/n.”

your cheeks flush with heat at his low-set whisper tingling into your ear, the alcohol in his breath intoxicating your own system. you swallow thickly in your throat and slide your palms down over his bare, toned shoulders, blocking out the way hwang yells something stupid over the speakers to the dancing crowd. the feeling of heeseung’s warm, heated touches and sinful whispers sure does make heat swarm to the pit of your belly, arousal soon clouding up inside your brain. it’s like he could read your mind. “i want you to..” you whisper hesitantly, swallowing nervously in your throat. your heart was beating erratically against your chest, and you could tell heeseung had noticed your nerves.

you hear a light hum breathe out through his lips and against your cheek, pulling his head back slightly to rest his chin back onto your shoulder. he then clasps his hands together against the small of your back, pulling you closer into his chest. “go ahead, y/n…” he whispers, beginning to sway softly to the overhead music. you take a deep breath and wrap your arms further around his warm neck, your cheek resting comfortably on his shoulder as the comfort of his embrace begins easing your nerves. “you can tell me, i promise i won’t judge you.” he whispers again. “tell me what you want me to do.”

you swallow the lump developing in your throat as you flutter your eyelids closed, focusing on the faint rhythm of you and heeseung’s swaying hips. you can hear his quick heartbeat against your chest, his breathing soft by your head. “i want you…” you lick your lips briefly, “to touch me.”

heeseung hums coyly. “i’m already touching you, y/n.” he whispers, and you can practically hear the amusing smirk etched across his lips. you roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you.

“you… you know what i mean, heeseung.”

“it might just be the spiked punch, but, i can’t figure it out for the life of me. please do explain, y/n.”

you groan shyly into the curve of his neck, heat blooming against your skin. you feel heeseung’s chest vibrate subtly with his soft chuckle, your lips parting hesitantly. “stop… i’m not explaining. tell me your other secret.”

heeseung breathes in a shaky breath, before letting it softly travel out through his nose. “i want you to wear me,” he whispers lowly into your neck. “like your pretty perfume.” your skin bursts out with an array of goosebumps, your letterman jacket now sticking to you with sweat.

your mind moves a mile a minute. “what.. what do you mean?”

you hear him chuckle softly at your question, before he parts his lips. he moves his head closer towards your neck, where he slowly and carefully, bites down softly into the skin of it, where he slowly begins sucking a hickey right into the flesh.

you gasp lightly at the sensation, warmth beginning to fill the pit of your belly. you let your hands roam around the nape of his neck and reach your fingertips into his damp curls, thankful for the business around you. a new, upbeat song had begun playing from the overhead speakers, bringing in more swarms of hyperactive students.

your body had been flushed with permanent heat at the suction of his lips on your skin, his bite soft but hurtful. it felt good, a little too good, and that feeling soon spread throughout your whole lower body. he slowly lifts his head back up once he’s sucked a good, evident purple bruise into the line of your neck, his lips shiny and parted. “heeseung,” you begin, eyes flickering among his prideful half smile. “heeseung, please…. i- i want… more.”

he lets a quick giggle slip past his lips, his hands finding the indentions of your hips to settle them there. his fingers had slipped under your letterman jacket, where the coldness of his rings stung your bare skin. “i dunno.” he shrugs, eyes focusing in on your desperate lips. you notice the red blush to his tan cheeks. “maybe if you beg for it some more.” he teases, “i like the way you say please.”

before you can even reply to his suggestive statement, he’s suddenly being pulled away from you. you catch suyun in the act, her face distorted in anger and her grip firm on his arm. “we’re going to the car.” she huffs, heeseung keeping his eyes trained on you.

“wait!” you plead, but you can only watch as heeseung gets pulled through the crowd. you bite your lip and begin trudging through the students towards them, where you hear their hushed banter.

“… i can’t believe you’re cheating on me!”

“… suyun, we’re not even dating, for christ’s sake!”

“… that doesn’t even matter!”

your emotions get the best of you as you begin weaving your way through the crowd, your head pulsing. night begins settling down around your small university, tiredness beginning to spread its way throughout your skeleton. you don’t let that stop you as you watch suyun and heeseung disappear down the hall, your chest beginning to heave with heavy breaths as you skid to a stop right at the gymnasium entrance. you bend over slightly to rest your hands onto your knees, dreadfully watching as suyun takes heeseung around the corner.

shit. you begin to nibble on your bottom lip in frustration, wondering just what the hell suyun could want with him. as you decide to wait for his arrival, rather shamefully you might add, you walk over towards the wall beside the gym entrance, letting your back lean against it. you fold your arms over your chest as your mind begins racing down the track of your own thoughts, conjuring up scenes of suyun’s displeasure. she’s probably telling him off, you think to yourself, hands reaching up towards your ponytail to readjust your slipping, gold ribbon. he did makeout with her to woo me over. you let a small, patient sigh escape your lips, counting the minutes you stand here by your lonesome.

your mood then wilts when time passes a little too slowly, now doubting the boy might never come back to you and fulfill your pathetic, eyeliner-frenzied fantasies. once you decide suyun’s probably just killed him and threw his body in a ditch somwhere, you slowly lift your back from the wall and turn on your heel, ready to walk sorrowfully back into the gym. i guess i could join ryung and get drunk off spiked punch, drowning my sorrow in fruity alcohol. speaking of, i wonder what he’s been—

your head then snaps back behind you once you hear soft clicks of footsteps heading down the slick, tiled hallway, your eyes softening at the sight. heeseung heads back down the length of the hall rather cooly, for someone who just got screamed at, a fist in his jeans pocket and a cigarette perched between his lips. his eyes fixate on you, peering over at you under his dark, smokey eyelids. he keeps his gaze locked as he slowly lifts a hand to the end of his cigarette, taking a huff before smoke bellows out of his nostrils. his hair had been pushed back from his forehead, his layered, brown locks laying perfectly disheveled atop of his head, really pulling off the wind-swept look, you think. his cheeks stay flushed and his exposed collarbones glint with sweat under the lighting, your heart rate increasing as he approaches you.

“waiting around for me?” he quirks as his pace slows the closer he walks towards you, your own feet beginning to move towards the boy. you watch his eyes rake down your figure briefly before smoke wisps out behind his askew smirk. “how sweet of you.”

“what did suyun want?” you ask him softly, stuffing your own hands into the comfort of your shorts pockets. his eyes stay on you as he’s silent for a quick second, pulling the cigarette away from his lips to flick at the end of it.

“she just yelled at me for liking you. apparently, i led her on. even though,” he raises his eyebrows, “i actually have told her i’m only interested in her as a friend. plenty of times. she just doesn’t like to listen to stuff she doesn’t wanna hear.”

you smile amusingly at his story, your own eyebrow quirking up. “so… where is she now?”

“she left.” heeseung replies softly, rolling his eyes teasingly. he then takes another huff of his cigarette, slipping his bottom lip between his teeth before throwing his head back to gaze down the hall, his eyes examining his surroundings. “so… what do you want to do now?”

your cheeks flush at his taunting question, your gaze averting down towards his black shoes as you shrug your shoulders, a shy curve growing at the edge of your lip. “how’s uh,” you lift your head up to look at him. “how’s your hickey looking under this light?”

heeseung’s eyes dart smoothly down towards your neck, where you watch the muscle of his jaw softly clench. he then inhales deeply through his nose, before exhaling dramatically through an approaching, teasing smirk. “looks too fucking perfect on you. no surprise, anyway. only makes me want to give you more. god, so badly, you don’t understand. i’ve been keeping it in for too long, y/n.” he tsks with his tongue before slowly shaking his head at you. “too fucking long. you’re intoxicating.”

your body swims with burning heat. “are you sure that just isn’t my heavy vanilla scent?” you begin teasingly, trying to hide the utter anxiousness and arousal in your subtly coy tone. you slowly walk up towards him, placing your hands firmly onto his shoulders as you watch his half lidded eyes gaze down at your features.

“that scent smells good too, but, i assure you, it’s not.” he mumbles, reaching his free hand up to run his fingers softly through the lines of your hair. “how about i take you somewhere else?” he then whispers, his adam’s apple bobbing slowly in his throat. “let me give you what you’re wanting from me.”

your heart begins pelting loudly against the confinements of your ribcage, the pit of your belly swelling with pooling arousal. your eye then catches a lonesome door just down the end of the hall, where a gold plaque that reads supply closet is bolted onto the door. god, you’re so impatient. “..please?”

before you know it, you’re being softly placed onto a small, plastic table located in the crammed, stuffy room of the locked supply closet. the two of you don’t even care, for your lips are moving too fervently against each other’s to even recognize what little room you have.

the dim room was only being lit up by a single, flickering lightbulb hanging from a chain into the ceiling, heeseung’s head brushing it as he slid quickly through the door. you had peeled ryung’s letterman jacket and threw it to the dusty floor somewhere, your hands tangled up in heeseung’s sweaty hair as his own palms were secured lowly onto your hips. he leans in desperately to deepen your messy kiss, his eyebrows furrowed as he slips his tongue into your mouth, resulting in a soft whine from the bottom of your throat.

heeseung was breathing heavily through his nose, his body flushed with heat. his hands then slide down to the curves of your sitting thighs, where he then slides his hands on top of them. he presses his ringed thumbs into the soft meat of your thighs, slowly spreading them farther across the table. his teeth drag your bottom lip harshly as it recoils with his release, his glossy eyes fixated on the slickness of your lips. “i want to eat you out.” he mumbles confidently, causing a pang to bolt at your core. he then sticks his thumbs up under the hem of your shorts, goosebumps erupting against your skin. he then lets a lazy curve tick up his lips. “it’s already wet under here. just makes me desperately want to tongue-fuck you.”

you let out an uncontrollable whimper at his words, your fingers clinging tightly around the sweaty locks of hair curling around his nape. “go ahead, please. do it, i want it.” you let out breathlessly, your eyebrows furrowing with want. he only smiles in reply to your pleads, pressing his lips down into the soft skin of your neck, where you tilt your head to the side to give him more room. he immediately begins sucking a harsh hickey into your skin, his fingers smoothly and slowly unbuttoning the top of your shorts. you adjust your legs to let him slide them right off of you, gasps of breath slipping from your lips as he sucks painfully slow into your neck.

he then drags your underwear and fishnets down your legs together, his lips moving down the line of your throat. he quickly discards them towards the floor, his hands then pressing onto the table for his own leverage. your exposed skin is cold against the plastic of the table, goosebumps prickling at your legs. his lips quickly work there way down to your chest, where you immediately pull down the strap of your camisole to give his lips room. he sucks a soft hickey into the side skin of your breast, your mind swirling at the feeling. you lace your hand through the curls on the top of his head, a whine leaving his lips when you tug on them slightly.

he works his lips down the length of your body, cocking his head to the side to suck another hickey into the dip of your bare waist. the feeling of warm saliva and the harsh bite of his teeth only increases the heaviness of your breathing, whines climbing up your throat. he’s leaning over your thighs now, his hands now gripping the sides of them softly. he sucks another hickey into the side of your thigh, where you feel him hum against the plushness of your skin. his rings are cold against your thighs, his fingernails digging softly into them. “you’re like a sweet, little treat.” he rasps into your thigh, peppering it in wet, quick kisses. “like my own, little dessert, wanna devour you whole and lick you clean.”

your body melts at his breathless words, goosebumps erupting across your whole body when his warm lips edge closer towards your pussy, his fingers then spreading your thighs out even more. he peers up you darkly under his eyelashes as he pauses his head right at your wet cunt, your mind swimming at his lustful gaze. he lets a half smirk crawl up his lip as he keeps his eyes up at you, slowly letting his tongue fall out between his parted lips and licks a slow, detrimental stripe up the sensitive line of your pussy.

you let out a breathy gasp at the sensation, your thighs suddenly tensing beside his head. your fingers grip the edges of the plastic table, the back of your head falling against the wall. “oh, fuck.” you whine, sweat beading along your brow. his tongue stays out as your juices gleam atop of his tongue, a short chuckle slipping past his mouth. he then slides his tongue between his lips, glossing up their pink skin.

“you’re so pathetically wet.” he mumbles, as he leans his mouth back into your pussy, his tongue giving the line of it another quick lick. “just from a lick. too fucking cute.” he whispers, as he presses his warm, wet mouth into your cunt. whines escape your lips at the wet feeling, his tongue circling around the tense warmth of your clit. you can’t help but reach out for his hair at the pleasure, tightly wrapping your fingers around his curls.

he begins almost whining against you, his feverish tongue lapping deeper up inside you. he then cups his mouth against your cunt, his tongue curled inside you, and begins sucking lightly, his fingernails digging deliciously into the soft, red skin of your thighs. your mind goes fuzzy at the feeling, soft, airy moans spilling from your lips. his deep, desperate hums vibrate against your core and send shoots of pleasure down your spine, your fingers pulling on his hair and your thighs tensing tightly against his head. “heeseung…”

a sharp whimper warms your pussy as you tug on his hair, the ends of his cold hoops dragging up against the exposed flesh of your thighs. with his hair in your fist, he lifts his head up away from your cunt, his eyes flashing deeply and desperately up at you.

you peer down at the boy, his lips slick with your wetness. it’s dripping down his chin and smearing around his cheeks, his eyebrows furrowed tightly. “so fucking filthy,” he whines, eyelashes batting up at you. “never needed my mouth on someone’s disgustingly wet, mind-fucking pussy more in my life. i want to obliterate you until you’re fucked-dumb with my tongue.”

just heeseung’s sinful words alone were enough to cause another rush of arousal out of yourself, heeseung’s wet lips peppering kisses quickly into the side of your thigh. “you still with me, baby?”

“yes.” you choke out, heeseung nodding swiftly up at you before pressing his mouth back into your soaked cunt. he whines more at the slick amount of heat he laps up with his tongue, circling it around your clit and sucking on you softly. your brain fogs up and your thigh muscles are sore with how much they clench around the boy’s head, his hands having to push them down harshly onto the table.

he prods his tongue in and out against your clit, his, fast heaving breath humming against you. you can’t take it anymore, lines of whimpers slipping past your parted lips and your desperate fingers clawing at his hair, your arrival growing with each passing second. heeseung can feel it too, licking, deep, dirty stripes up the inside of your cunt, his face slick with your arousal. “come on baby, please,” he whimpers into you, dragging his fingernails softly up and down the length of your thighs. “cum on my face,” he whines, “please? will you make a pretty little mess for me?”

his words were only an icebreaker as your high suddenly takes over you, your lips parting with an uncontrollable whine. your fingers had gripped hard into his hair as you cum all over his mouth, his fingernails gripping hard into your thighs. “fuck,” he groans, once you’ve finally released all that you could onto his flushed face. you let your shoulders slouch back against the wall, your eyelids fluttering shut as your tired body falls slack. your lips are parted with heavy, deep breaths, your face slick with sweat and your thighs trembling with ache.

“ah, shit, y/n.” you hear heeseung rasp, as he slowly climbs up from your cunt and leans over you, his hands now balancing himself against the table. you peer up at him, his cheeks shining with cum and his hair matted to his face. his lips provocatively gleam and you watch as your arousal drips down the defined curve of his chin. he then smiles widely down at you, a prideful blush blooming in his sticky, wet cheeks. “i didn’t know someone could cum so fucking much.” he says through a breathless chuckle, leaning in towards your lips to press his wet mouth against your own. “made such a fucking mess. got so wet for me, made my head spin.”

you smile shyly at his statement as he presses multiple, messy kisses into your dripping mouth, his hands going to situate in the curves of your hips. “i want to go again.” you whisper teasingly against his lips, your hands crawling up his jaw to cup his sweaty cheeks in your palms.

“you’re a nasty girl.” heeseung softly chuckles through a smirk, peering at you with raised eyebrows. “your little number 12 friend is probably worried sick right now.”

“i think that punch will keep him occupied.” you reply through an amusing smile, as heeseung leans in to pepper your jaw in quick kisses, his hands pulling your hips closer towards him. “wow, heeseung,” you mumble teasingly, “all that, and you haven’t even asked me out yet.”

you feel the boy giggle lowly against your ear, teeth nipping at the curve of your jawline. “i have to think about it.” he whispers into your ear, teeth now prodding at the skin of your earlobe. you let a small giggle airily slip through your lips. “i’ve got the rest of the year, don’t i?”

a/n: I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS FIC HHH :(( please let me know with an interaction of some sort, i absolutely appreciate all types of feedback <333 HEVEHEF IVE BEEN THINKING OF MAYBE DOING A PART TWO BUT IM NOT SURE IF I WANT TO MAKE ANOTHER HEESEUNG SERIES AGAIN..?.?.?.? IS THAT LAME??! idk guys decisions decisions. lemme know if you’d like another part so i can get a good idea of if i wanna do it or not 🤔 maybe i’d make a taglist 🤔 idk yet..! BUT ILL LET YOU KNOW!! hehe <333

my cool kid homie squad: @5xiang @svnoofy @qolaroidlove @vampbrr

( p.s. join my cool kid homie squad (perm taglist) or your moms a loser… and you won’t be considered one of heecrush’s cool kid homies… wow… would never wish that on anyone. sniff.. 😪😪 )

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