beauty is terror,

Riddle Rosehearts was never one for parties.

Hell, he wasn’t even allowed a TV growing up. His routine was mundane, stable, predictable. Everything a party was not.

Study, study, study, sleep, study again. His mother had always been strict on what pleasures Riddle was allowed to indulge in. No games, no fun, nothing.

Unbirthday parties were one thing. A thing he could control. They lived by rules, structure, and he was the dictator. But at a wild party like this, hosted by Kalim to celebrate… Riddle couldn’t even remember what the party was for, everything was out of his control.

Cater and Trey sat beside him with confidence smiles, talking to the others in the circle with an ease Riddle envied. People didn’t talk to him. They were too scared.

He sat straight as he observed the crowd. A circle had formed— for what reason was unbeknownst to him as Cater and Trey had just plopped him down. He saw familiar faces like Ace and Deuce huddled beside you.

The three of you were laughing carelessly. Your head was thrown back as you laughed at something Ace said. You were clearly a little tipsy, which Riddle noted with displeasure.

Yet, he couldn’t stop watching you. The way your lips curled into a genuine smile, your eyes crinkling in the corners, your head thrown back in bout of laughter. It was a magnetic sight.

Ace’s eyes flickered towards Riddle, a smirk growing onto his face before he leaned over to you, whispering something in your ear. Immediately, your eyes flickered towards Riddle across the circle, and your grin turned mischievous. Riddle felt a surge of annoyance at being caught, quickly looking away, focusing on the strange stain in the carpet before him.

But the damage was done. He had been caught. You were still looking at him, he could feel it like lasers pointed straight at him or a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, a sentiment he played off as a side effect of the heat of the party.

Body heat, surely. Nothing else, especially not you.

He adjusted his tie, a familiar, grounding motion in the unfamiliar chaos of the party. As he fixed his tie, he had failed to notice the beer bottle being placed in the center of the circle. Whistles started to sound out from the circle, capturing his attention.

His eyes shot wide. This was not what he had signed up for. He glanced over at Trey and Cater who shared easygoing smirks. They were enjoying this too much.

“What is this?!” Riddle’s sharp voice cut out through the chatter, but it fell on deaf ears as the thrum of the bass and excited giggles. The bottle was already spinning, a dizzying green blur in the dim light. It slowed, wobbling, a drama queen taking its final bow.

It pointed right at him.

A wave of heat washed over him, prickling at the back of his neck. He was on display, the eyes of everyone else focused on him with eager attention to see his reaction. The stern housewarden allowing himself to be soiled? It was peak comedy. His mouth fell open, “This is an inappropriate use of—“

Before he could finish his sentence, Cater had grabbed him by the shoulders. “Seven Minutes in Heaven!” His sing-song voice announced, cutting him off.

The name itself sounded like a threat, shocking Riddle to his core. He had heard whispers of the game, of closeted encounters and stolen kisses, but he had always filed it away with other frivolous, rule breaking activities. It wasn’t for him. It was for the likes of people like Ace. And for you.

Ace’s triumphant whoop echoed Riddle’s internal scream. You were laughing, but there was a new edge to it than before. A glint in your eye that said, “oh, this is going to be fun.”

“Who spun it?” Cater asked, scanning the circle of faces. Your hand was still resting on the bottle. A devious smirk was placed upon your face as you gave the bottle a final, decisive tap in Riddle’s direction.

“I believe I did,” you said, your voice smooth as honey, carrying across the circle with impossible clarity. You rose to your feet, brushing off the imaginary dust off your jeans. “Well, Rosehearts, your chariot awaits.” You gestured with a flourish towards a nearby closet door, a dark, menacing rectangle in the wall.

His world narrowed to that very door. To your expectant face. To the sea of awaiting, grinning faces. There was no escape from this humiliation.

The collar of his shirt suddenly felt too tight, strangling him. He stood up, his movements so stiff they almost looked robotic. He could feel the watchful eyes of his peers as they followed him towards the closet door. He could feel their judgment and their amusement at his predicament. The rule-freak in the closet, how funny. His chest heaved in embarrassment.

It was a punishment for a crime he hadn’t even committed. He was just trying to follow the rules. Like his mother always told him to.

He walked towards you, each step a monumental effort. You held the door open for him, a playful smile still dancing on your lips. As he brushed past you to enter the cramped darkness, he caught a whiff of your scent— something warm and sweet, like vanilla and moonlight. It was disorienting.

The door clicked shut behind him, plunging the small space into absolute blackness. The sound of the party was muffled, a distant, rhythmic thrum. He could hear your breathing, soft and even, right beside him. He could feel the warmth radiating from your body. This was closer to another person than he had been in… perhaps ever. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic, trapped bird.

Your body was so close as you towered over him. Your fingers played with a stray strand of red hair, “So, you’ve ever kissed anyone before?” you asked into the dark, your voice a low murmur that vibrated through the stifling air. The question hung between you, bold and unapologetic.

Riddle flinched as if struck. His mother’s voice, a ghost from the past, echoed in the sudden, suffocating silence.

“Decent boys don't indulge in such vulgarities.”

His face was on fire. He opened his mouth, ready to recite a rule, a regulation, anything to put this moment back in its proper box. But the words wouldn't come. They were tangled up with the feeling of your fingers near his scalp, the scent that was uniquely you, the sheer, terrifying intimacy of the dark.

He shook his head, a jerky, minimal motion. Then, remembering you probably couldn't see him, he choked out a single, strangled word. “No.”

A soft chuckle from your direction. Not mocking. Something else. Something warmer. “Good.”

And then you were kissing him.

Your lips were soft, impossibly soft, and they moved against his with a gentle, insistent pressure that sent a jolt straight through him. It was nothing like the chaste, formal pecks on the cheek he’d received from his mother. This was… alive. Wet, warm, and demanding a response he didn't know how to give.

His hands hung useless at his sides, fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. His brain, usually so neat and orderly, was a blizzard of static. Rule 437: No fraternization with… with… what was the rule? There was no rule for this. There was no precedent. It was just as it was. Just… you.

You deepened the kiss, a soft sigh escaping you as one of your hands came up to cup the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. The touch was electric. It anchored him to the moment, to you. His body, betraying his mind, began to relax. The tension in his shoulders eased. His unclenched one fist, his fingers uncurling slowly.

Hesitantly, experimentally, he kissed back. It was clumsy, awkward, all wrong angles and too much teeth. But you didn’t seem to mind. You just tilted your head, guiding him, your tongue tracing the seam of his lips. A gasp escaped him, and you took the opportunity to deepen the kiss further, exploring his mouth with a confidence that left him breathless. He tried to reciprocate your actions, but it was all wrong.

Adorably wrong.

“Don’t suck on my tongue so hard,” you murmured against his lips, pulling back just enough to speak. Your breath was warm, smelling faintly of the soda you’d been drinking. Your thumb stroked the sensitive skin behind his ear. “Relax.”

Relax. As if it were that simple. As if his entire life hadn't been a masterclass in tension.

But something in your tone, in the gentle, patient way you were guiding him, made him want to try. He tried to copy your movements, to match your rhythm. His hands, finally, found a place to rest—one on your waist, the other hovering awkwardly near your shoulder. The fabric of your shirt was soft under his fingertips.

The kiss became a conversation. A silent language he was just beginning to learn. You taught him with your lips and your tongue, with the way your body pressed against his. It was overwhelming, a sensory overload.

The darkness was no longer suffocating; it was a cocoon. A private world where the rules didn't apply. Here, there was only the thumping of his own heart, the taste of you, and the slow, deliberate exploration of a pleasure he never knew existed.

He was so lost in it, so consumed by the sensation, that he didn't register the bulge in your pants, slowly starting to rub against him.

A muffled groan rumbled in your chest. The kiss became hungrier, more desperate. Your hips rolled against him, a slow, deliberate friction that sent a bolt of pure, unadulterated heat straight to his groin.

His entire body went rigid again, but for a completely different reason. This wasn't just kissing. This was… more. This was the kind of vulgar, wanton behavior his mother had warned him about in hushed, scandalized tones.

And god, it felt good.

A strangled noise escaped him, half-gasp, half-moan. He felt dizzy, drunk on a sensation he couldn't name. His fingers tightened on your waist, pulling you closer even as a part of his brain screamed at him to stop. Rule 263: Maintain a respectable distance from… The rule dissolved into a haze of pleasure as you did it again, harder this time.

He was hard. So hard it was almost painful, confined in the stiff fabric of his uniform trousers. A wave of shame washed over him, hot and swift, but it was instantly drowned out by another, more powerful wave of need. He ground himself back against you, a clumsy, needy movement that was pure instinct. Your response was a low chuckle, a vibration that he felt more than heard.

“You’re a quick study, Rosehearts,” you breathed against his jaw, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck.

You found a spot just below his ear that made him shudder, a jolt of electricity that arced through his entire body. He tilted his head back, giving you better access, a silent plea for more.

He was melting. The carefully constructed walls of Riddle Rosehearts, Prefect of Heartslabyul, were crumbling into dust. He was just a boy, in a dark closet, with a person who was making him feel things he’d only ever read about in forbidden medical textbooks.

And then, light.

A blinding slice of it cut through the darkness as the door swung open.

“TIME’S UP!” Ace’s obnoxious, triumphant voice shattered the cocoon.

Riddle jumped back as if he’d been electrocuted. He stumbled, knocking into a rack of coats. The sudden brightness was painful, the cacophony of party noise a physical assault.

He stared at you, wide-eyed and breathless. Your lips were swollen and glossy, your hair messy, a triumphant, knowing smirk plastered on your face. He could see the prominent bulge in your jeans, a blatant evidence of what they had just been doing.

“Over so soon,” you pouted sarcastically before leaning closer to Riddle, smoothing his mused hair down with an affectionate gesture. “Maybe next time,” you whispered, a promise that sent a fresh wave of terror and anticipation through him.

You walked out of the closet with an easy confidence, leaving Riddle to stagger out after you, his face burning with a humiliation so profound he thought he might combust. He couldn't meet anyone's eyes. He could feel them on him, though. He could hear the snickers, the wolf whistles. He saw Ace give you a triumphant high-five.

He didn’t remember the walk back to his dorm room. He just knew that one moment he was the center of a humiliating spectacle, and the next he was slamming the door to his room, leaning against it as he tried to get his breathing under control.

His body was still humming. His lips still felt the ghost of yours. The scent of you— vanilla and moonlight— seemed to have permanently embedded itself in his uniform.

He looked at himself in the mirror. The reflection was a stranger. His hair was a mess. His face was flushed. His lips were red and swollen. And he was still painfully, shamefully aroused.

You had ruined him. In seven minutes.

Jade 🍄

Azul 🐙

Now THIS is Yandere vibes

Mafia fishes are canon and I will not take criticism. Rosie can't– ofc– sleep again. Very predictable. Why? probably just the over looming thoughts as usual. Nothing new nothing new

ᥫ᭡. Riddle Rosehearts ᥫ᭡.

The calm evening breeze peeks through his window, his eyes catching how the pages of the book he's reading flutter. Grey eyes study the pages, wearied from revision since who knows how long. It's only when a whine escapes your lips that he looks up, eyes widening in shock as you stretch. The top you wear rides up your ribcage, showing off your figure. Your eyes are closed as you groan from how utterly tired you are. The fatigue leaves your body with a pop as you replicate the stances a cat might when as fatigued as you, wanting to laze around.

All he can think in the moment is how beautiful you are.

It's not as if you notice how Riddle's gaze never once leaves you, his face suddenly as red as the roses Cater had painted. He shouldn't stare, it isn't gentlemanly and not appropriate in any way - no matter how close you are to him. Not even if you're his lover. He has half a mind to scold you, to give you a lecture about how mustn't do so in front of him and much less others. Though, for some reason no words leave his lips and it's only then that he realizes that he's been subtly chewing on them, biting the flesh ever so slightly that it's a pretty pink. He's quite cute at the moment, utterly mesmerized by you - trying to look away, but he can't. He doesn't want to.

He's warm all over when you look back at him, opening your eyes and offering him a lazy smile - body splawed in a manner that only gave leeway to lewd thoughts. He feels so awfully guilty, his rosy cheeks burning a fire inside him. A feeling so rough as though a thorny rose bush was crawling inside him, wrapping around his heart till it burst. A fire traveling down his body to places it shouldn't.

He only looked away in response with a flustered scoff, making it clear that he was embarrassed. However, you weren't sure why. You could only crawl towards him from the other side of the bed, wanting to be closer to your love. He wished for the moment, to maintain his dignity, that you didn't. For the manner in which you came his way could only be called seductive, as if you wanted to ruin him or get ruined yourself.

He scolded himself internally, trying his best to maintain his composure. He felt so horrible for what he was thinking, the way he was thinking about you. It sullied you, and with the way he was raised he felt as though he'd committed a grave sin. His ashy eyes fell onto you once you'd reached him, curling into his side with a playful smile. You were so endearing yet so distracting.

You had no clue what you were doing to him, did you? Not when you leaned over to kiss him. It was tantalizing, playing with the restraint he was trying to withold.

Nevertheless, the book slipped from his hands and his lips met yours. One kiss wouldn't hurt, would it?

ᥫ᭡. Leona Kingscholar ᥫ᭡.

A peaceful slumber is all he wanted really, what else did he ever want? The short answer was: You. If there was one thing he'd rather have other than sleep, it would be you - in more ways than one.

It was a hot afternoon and with how Leona was, he planned on taking a long nap. Of course, with you in his arms, cuddled and huddled up to him. It would be hot and sweaty, though no matter how much you tried he wouldn't let go - at least not till half an hour. That was how it was meant to go. A simple nap and maybe some cuddling.

Unfortunately it didn't go that way. Not when he couldn't get a wink of sleep with how you clung to him, a leg over his - bodies touching as if melting into one. No space in between your bodies as if you were waltzing in bed. You nape was exposed too, as if tempting him to take a bite of a forbidden fruit. Yet your slumber was so peaceful, such an adorable sight.

He felt awful for how hot he felt, his face tinged crimson with fluster. He could only stare, for the first time feeling unsure where to touch. You were asleep and here he was thinking about the position the both of you were in, how vulnerable you were around him. How lucky was he for such a wonderful gift. He was scared to either wake you or something within himself - yeah he felt like such a dick, quite awful. Not very princely of him, huh?

It's only when you opened your eyes, asking what was wrong that he realized how long he'd been staring. Though it was surely your fault, if you'd simply stayed asleep he could ignore it - now though? It was so different.

Your arms clung around his neck, pulling him closer and your legs tightened around his hips. It was innocent enough, to you maybe - it could be a sign to cuddle and kiss. To him? All he could think about was how you'd look after hours and hours of intimacy. How hoarse your voice would be, how you'd shake and tremble at his touch - how you might feel even a morsel of the yearning he felt for you in the most carnal manner possible. How sore you'd be in every part of your body and how long the both of you would go on and on and on.

Don't blame him for finishing what you started, especially when you pulled him into a deep kiss. Needless to say, it would be long before you left his room. Not that you mind.

ᥫ᭡. Azul Ashengrotto ᥫ᭡.

The clean scent of the sea melted into a warm musk filled Azul's office. The desk filled with paperwork and contracts from poor unfortunate souls whom he'd save so graciously.

But who's going to to save him from you?

It's not that you're doing anything, simply sitting on a plush lounge chair, knees huddled with the slightest gap between, and hands holding your phone that you're seemingly engrossed in. Maybe it's because you're doing nothing that his mind is wandering.

Your lips part before you begin to bite them again - He can't look away. In fact, he hasn't finished a single document since you came in. All he's done is try and try only to be distracted by you - the way you clumsily laugh at a meme or the way you sigh, waiting for him to be done for the day. And yet all he thinks about is how you'd taste and how you'd feel.

With the way you sit there, it's as if you want him to be shameless. As if you want him to lose it and act on these impudent thoughts. Suddenly the room feels hot as his suit clings to him. You look up to him, smiling and asking how far he's done with work - he's certainly not and it seems he won't be anytime soon. Not when you're walking up to him and looking down at him with those eyes - what's a poor unfortunate soul like him meant to do when you've stolen his heart?

You lean over his table complaining, joking of course, about how long he's taking. And all he does is look at your plush lips, then your collarbone, and then down to your legs. He feels guilty, he doesn't want to look at you this way - what if you find him disgusting? It's wrong isn't it? Even if you're his lover.

But then he wonder again, is it so wrong to long for you in the manner he is? When you're this beautiful? As ethereal as a pearl, one he wants to cage within his arms.

Is it so wrong to want to kiss you right here and right now? Ignore all the paperwork he has, to melt into a heap of cuddles and your warm embrace? To have you so selfishly?

You didn't even need a contract, all you did was bat those lashes and give him that smile - one that left blood rushing to every part of his body.

So don't blame him after sitting down on his lap, because you both know where that's going to go - especially given the look in his eyes, all clouded in hunger and the need to worship.

ᥫ᭡. Kalim Al-Asim ᥫ᭡.

Loving comes naturally to Kalim with how happy he always seems, ready to include everyone. Though it's so different with you, it's so real. Devoid of performative actions to appeal to you on the surface, instead he truly wants you to like him for him. That true love written in fairy tales, that's what he'd compare to what the both of you share. All rosy cheeks, flustered words, and holding hands during the sunset. Kissing under the moonlight without a care of what comes tomorrow.

It's more than perfect. It's where his home lies, deep in your arms. That's where he is at the moment, simply cuddling with you. His head lies in your lap while his arms wrap around your waist. His face nuzzles into your chest as you lay back into dozens of silken pillows. Your hands find his milky hair, massaging his scalp slowly. It's the most sugary moment ever, like candied apples and cotton candy.

So why is it that Kalim's head is going to a place it certainly shouldn't - when you're doing the most innocent thing like scratching his head. When you're simply talking about your day. When all you're doing is speaking. So why does it feel so tempting, why does he feel so needy?

All he can do is focus on the proximity, the way his face nuzzles into your chest. The way his arms wrap around your waist. The way your floral perfume fills his nose, the one he got you.

It's suddenly so intimate, so sensual. Maybe it's the fact that you're covered things he's gotten for you, that fact makes him feel a certain way he hasn't before - the realization takes root in something other than joy. A feeling that blooms into something sensual and possessive. His body seems to act on his own, holding you closer and tighter. It's a failed attempt to clear his head since the embrace only gives a push to arousing thoughts. The fact that if he moved a little more he could push you down on the plush bed and be on top of you while you're under him-

It's you who brings him back from his thoughts, a giggle leaving your lips as you repeat a joke you'd apparently said which he failed to hear. You thought he was daydreaming.

Surely thinking of making love to you could classify as such, right? Maybe he's not as innocent as everyone thinks.

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Stu and Billy sat beside you in the library, looming over the poor boy you were tutoring. You could practically see the dark, purple aura floating off of them, suffocating the room. No matter how many time you told them it was just tutoring, they always clung to you claiming they had to supervise. Despite all the very many times you rolled your eyes, and told the boys you could handle yourself; they would simply smirk to themselves with a secretive look shared between them before claiming they were your bodyguards, and that they were “experienced” with dealing trouble. Whatever that meant.

The boy was a junior who had to been begging for help with pre-calc around the student council meetings. As the president of student council, who were you to deny him? Ever since freshman year, you had tutored most of your peers. Even upperclassmen. Tutoring was even how you met your boyfriends. Stu needed it, but Billy was just too lazy to do his work. Still true to this day despite your golden boy influence on the two.

You were explaining some concept that went over both Billy and Stu’s head. Stu kept kicking your shin, egging you on to play footsy with him. Billy smirked at the way your brow kept furrowing with frustration at Stu’s antics before you cursed under your breath, and excused yourself from the table. You pushed yourself up from the table with a forced grin, one that passed as genuine but didn’t reach your eyes like usual, “I’m gonna take a moment to talk to my friends, Bradley. I’ll be right back, promise! Keep working on questions 4-6! I’ll check your work later. You got this!”

The boy nodded before bunkering down and starting the questions, you began to move past the various towering shelves with Billy and Stu walking smugly behind you. When you guys found a good corner, you flopped down onto a bean bag chair. Like a golden retriever with no concept of personal space, Stu flopped down onto your lap while Billy moved to lean against the bean bag right beside you.

You pouted as you pressed your forehead against Stu’s shoulder blade, whining playfully, “I love you guys, but why can’t you guys let me tutor in peace?”

Stu laughed, “What if someone tries to take advantage of our precious little golden boy? Tutoring is code for anal, isn’t that right, Bill?” Stu’s words shocked you, causing you to cough on your disbelief before turning to Billy, “He’s joking, right?!”

“Only when [Name’s] tutoring me it does,” Billy replied teasingly as he wrapped his arm around your tensed shoulders.

“Anal without me?!” Stu whined loudly before you clasped your hand over his mouth. “Guys you can’t say I’m doing anal with anyone! Especially out loud! In a library.”

Billy pressed his long fingers against your spine, almost counting your vertebrae as he ran them down your back. “Why? Will they think you got some anal disease, and you can’t donate all your organs to the little orphans?” He snarked.

“Be nice to me guys. And I’ve donated blood. No organs yet.” You sigh as you glance back at Billy exasperated.

“Can I have your spleen?” Stu piped up from behind your hand.

“Why do you need my spleen?” You exclaimed with disgust. “Let’s just go back. I have two more questions. Don’t you guys have something anyways? It’s the anniversary of..?”

Billy gave Stu a look that escaped your attention, but whatever the anniversary was did need to get attended to. After all, it was time for their big plan. Billy pressed a kiss and a tiny bite against your neck. His nose tickled as he held the feeling of his lips pressed against your skin. “Yeah, me and Stu have some business to take care of. Go straight home after this. I’ll be at your window later.”

Before you can speak, Stu adds in, “Me too!”

You nod, setting a mental note to leave the window open while you finish your AP Gov homework tonight before remembering that they never did truly tell you what their big plan was, “What are you guys doing anyways?”

“Unfinished business,” Billy said plainly before standing up and stretching. Stu kissed your cheek before clambering out of your lap and pushing himself up to Billy’s side. “Love you, baby!”

You waved them off sweetly as the two walked out of the library, returning to your tutoring session. Bradley was gone, yet his things were still at the table. You glanced around before catching sight of 3 guys towering over the junior, obviously tormenting the boy. You stormed towards them with the pre calc textbook in hand. “Excuse me? You’re interrupting our session.”

The guys turned around to face you with a mean smile. “Shouldve known it was you tutoring this faggot. Goody two shoes.”

“What did you say?” You said angrily. Your nose was scrunched in anger at the slur, and the bullying of the boy behind them. God, you hated guys like these.

“Faggot,” the guy repeated.

Before he could snicker at your fuming face, you had taken the hefty textbook to his face, slapping him with all your strength. He knocked himself against one of the book shelves, a couple books falling of the shelves. You would pick them up later. It was the right thing to do. So was teaching these guys a lesson.

The other two began to approach you to avenge the one you had hit with the textbook, but you had began to move to hit them too. You didn’t condone violence in the slightest, but this is what it had come to. One tried to lunge at you but you shoved the textbook into his stomach, causing him to curl in pain. The other tried to rip the book out of your grasp, but you managed to kick him off. Distracted with the two boys, you couldn’t keep your attention on the original guy who you slapped. He was moving to punch the back of your head before getting his head smashed into the wall by a familiar hand. Stu held his bleeding head against the wall, “Now, why would you do that? Gonna get your ass kicked by more than a textbook.”

Billy pressed his chest against your back as he glared at the others, an unbeknownst knife pointed at them from behind you. “Leave before things get worse. That includes you too.” He said to Bradley, not wanting your attention fixated on any guys except him and Stu. Especially after how much he enjoyed seeing you kick their asses. All he wanted was to steal you for themselves.

The four squabbled out before you could say anything, or give Bradley his textbook back. You went to ran after Bradley to check up on him as he hurried away anxiously, but were cornered by your boyfriends. Billy cupped your chin, “Don’t focus on him. Focus on me, alright?” Stu, right beside Billy, slid his large hand onto the small of your back, teasing the fabric of the sweater you were wearing.

“But.. his stuff. And he’s hurt! I have a first aid kit, and I need to apologize. I.. gosh, how could that happen!” You exclaimed stress. Stu chuckled, “I don’t know, but god it was hot! Who knew our sweet boy had it in him to hit anyone.”

“It wasn’t like that. I’m not violent,” you defended guiltily.

“That makes it even better,” Stu said,

biting his lip.

You glanced away embarrassed, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment. Billy forced your gaze back up, his hand still cupping your jaw. “Don’t be shy. We liked it. A lot.”

“You guys are weird. It was just the right thing to do.”

Billy and Stu shared another look before Billy started to ruffle your hair. “Always the hero. That’s why you got us, huh? To do your dirty work.”

“I-“ you began to try and deny the claim before falling silent upon the terrifying look in their eyes. “What do you guys mean?”

Stu started to almost laugh uncontrollably before kissing all of your face, “Oh, sweet boy, just know we’ll handle all of this. Don’t want anything worrying that pretty head of yours.”

The two began to stalk off suddenly, leaving you bewildered at your own actions and their odd behavior. What did they mean they’ll handle it?

Surely they wouldn’t hurt them. Or worse. Right?

✎ notes . . . this kinda sucks so I’m sorry— wrote this in a quick way to get my overthinking and laziness out of the way, but I hope you enjoy it!

The rumors were true. Ni-ki’s parties were truly one of a kind.

The alcohol buzzed in your mouth as you sipped on the solo red cup in your grasp. Your nose scrunched a little as you swallowed the liquid down. Alcohol was never your forte. Yet here you were. The music boomed loudly in your ears, forming a headache. The energy was suffocating. How couldn’t it be though? This was a Ni-ki party— infamous in their intensity.

The lights were dim and multicolored, LEDs being the only lights in the house. Seductive reds, chaotic greens, and dreamy blues had turned the house into a club. That, along with the alcohol supplied. When you had entered the kitchen earlier on in the night, pushing past the flirting couples and the drink hoggers, there had been a large arrangement of jellow shots, bottles you couldn’t even name, and more red solo cups than you could count.

Everyone was caught up in the revelry, but your mind had been elsewhere for a while. You had done your cameo for Ni-ki’s vlog maybe 30 minutes ago, so you had taken it upon yourself to sit down on the couch and people watch. People you’ve only heard of through various social media platforms littered around the living room playing various drinking games, socializing, etc. However, none of them were of your concern. Only one person was, and he wasn’t even there.

Sipping on your drink once more, your eyes scanned the room for Heeseung. He was supposed to be here, yet he had been absent since the party started. You pushed yourself off the couch with annoyance. You did your cameo, and now you just wanted to hang out with a familiar face who wasn’t the star of the party— surrounded by people. Where was Heeseung?

Going up the stairs of the familiar house, you went to his door. Turning the doorknob, your entrance was rejected. The room was locked. Your fist pounded on the door as you yelled out, “Hee! Let me in!” An annoyed look was displayed upon your face, ready to get away from the scene downstairs.

Thankfully, the door was quick to open, and you smiled at the boy before you. His doe eyes were wide as you pushed past him, sitting upon his bed. It was comfy, and you let out a sigh of relief as you relaxed into the plush blanket laid out on-top of his comforter. “Y/N?” Hee asked as he shut the door. He locked it once more before crossing to sit with you. His eyes traced your appearance, catching sight of the cup in your hand, “Why aren’t you downstairs?” Heeseung smiled cheekily as he said this. He nodded his gaze down to your drink, obviously sensing you were just partying moments prior.

You sipped on your cup teasingly, a smile spread across your lips as you faced him, before replying with a shrug and a plain, “Too much for me. Plus, I wanted to see a familiar face that wasn’t flocked by more people than I can count.” Heeseung chuckled, his nose scrunching cutely, “Fair.”

You bumped your shoulder against his, “You? I was looking for you, you know.”

Heeseung coughed a little in shock. You were looking for him? He couldn’t help the giddy smile that spread across his face before looking away from you towards his gaming set up. “I’m on Fontaine.. I got a little too absorbed.” He said embarrassed, but the way your eyes lit up gave away how his answer seemed to please you. You jumped up and headed to his computer, seeing a shot of Furina speaking to the Traveler.

“It’s the best written region, so I don’t blame you.” You said as you leaned against his chair facing him, now turned away from the computer screen. You had a wide smile, and Heeseung stared at you with a glazed look in his gaze. Just like your streams, there you were smiling so delightfully over this game. Yet you weren’t a computer screen away, and Heeseung wasn’t hidden behind a username. He was here. In front of you. And you didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, you came to him. Him. Heeseung. Not even y/nsupremacy ever got this pleasure.

Heeseung had followed in your steps as he nodded, and stood in front of you. His eyes traced your face before flickering from your lips to your eyes. Your hair was styled nicely, sticking to your aesthetic but fitting the vibe of the party. It looked so soft. Heeseung couldn’t help the way he leaned in further towards you, almost wanting to plant himself close enough to feel it. Then his eyes drifted, you had two nice necklaces framing your neck. God, was your neck pretty. And your outfit? He always had admired your style, and it was true you always dressed well. Especially now. As his eyes lingered, he spoke softly, “Mhm… You look nice, by the way.”

“Thanks, I probably smell like booze and sweat though. Ruins the whole thing, huh?” You joked, still not the most responsive to his flirtations. It still felt awkward for you, knowing your history, but Heeseung only knew the tip of the iceberg. Since he clearly didn’t remember, you remarked in your head bitterly. Despite, trying to brush it off, it still hurt thinking about the past. You sighed as you glanced from the floor back up to Heeseung. His gaze was scarily intense, and his brows creased in frustration. Noticing you making eye contact with him, Heeseung shook his head as he leaned in, towering over you with an odd expression. “Not at all. Never.”

Your mouth opened to respond, yet nothing came out. Heeseung was usually rather.. awkward or even shy around you. Which made sense. How could he act suave when you very clearly didn’t like him in the slightest? Yet things had changed over the past couple of weeks. You seemed to tolerate him, at bare minimum. Enjoy his presence even. I mean, who calls every night, plays each other’s favorite video games, and stares at each other like that if they didn’t? So maybe that’s why he was behaving like this.

He fixated on you as he waited for you to say… well, anything. Your eyes, you hair, you. Anything to give away whatever was going on inside that head of yours. He frowned a little. Why were you so unresponsive all the time? It frustrated him. The progress gained from you hating him to those small moments between you two where you seem to return even an inkling of his feelings surely meant something, so why were you still keeping him at a distance? What were you hiding? What had you been hiding? Why didn’t you like him?

He closed his eyes as he thought. You came up to his room for a reason, right? The way you’re looking at him has to mean something. Surely, you don’t hate him anymore? Maybe he isn’t delusional. Maybe you wanted this even a little bit. Maybe this isn’t just for clout cause he made that stupid, stupid comment. His eyes flickered back to your lips before licking his own, testing something, “What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

“You— what??” You say shocked as you stumble back a little, yet your back hits against his gaming chair. Your chest heaved slightly as you processed his sudden words. “You’re gonna what?”

“Kiss you.” He said firmly.

“I.. well. I would—“ You paused as you stared back at him with wide eyes. Why was he asking that? You looked off to side before dragging your gaze to his shoes. Quietly, you whispered, “I guess, I would kiss you back.”

Heeseung’s brows furrowed slightly before he leaned down to brush his nose against yours. Not how he expected you to answer. He expected a dumb joke, a diversion, yet you answered him. “Promise?”

Despite the air catching in your lungs, you nodded as your eyes flickered to meet his lips, barely touching yours. “Promise.”

Heeseung smirked a little before sliding his lips against yours before a soft smile spread across his face, his teeth clashing against the soft surface of your lips. He hummed as his dreams came true. Months of fantasizing of feeling your lips finally coming true. The kiss, tentative and hesitant, a soft brush of your lips upon each other, ignited those feelings boxed away. Your hands grasped onto Heeseung’s broad shoulders as you couldn’t help the tears that spilt from your lips. They fell into the kiss, turning the sweet softness of it salty. Heeseung hummed as he tasted your tears, peaking his tongue out against the plush feel of your bottom lip. His eyes fluttered open as his hands caressed your face, “Why are you crying? Did you not like it? Did you not wanting to kiss me? Fuck, y/n.”

More streams poured from your eyes, but you smiled that charming, lopsided grin that made Heeseung’s knees weak. You moved your hands from his shoulders to wipe away your tears embarrassed— just like the first time you had kissed him. He still didn’t remember. Maybe you thought that sense of Deja Vu would hit. Heeseung’s hand, large and warm and cradling your cheek moved up and met yours. He cupped the hand that you had used to wipe your tears before kissing your cheek. “Why are you crying?” He asked again, softly. Begging, almost.

“You don’t remember,” you replied, “I do. I still do, and I always have. I can’t forget it. Even though it was so insanely long ago. I can’t. Yet you can.”

Heeseung held your hand tighter, “What? What did I do? Tell me, please.”

You laughed before glancing up, into those eyes that had taunted you for years. “Middle school, there was that party. You didn’t know me. I was the weird emo kid who played FNAF in the back? Ring a bell?”

Heeseung’s eyes went wide, “I do remember.” His eyes scanned your face, seeking the resemblance. It was your sister’s party. His older brother had been invited, but their parents were out of town, so he dragged Hee along. Heeseung hated it. All these kids he didn’t know, the smell, the noise. He just wanted to go him and play on his computer.

“I.. I had walked into that random room with the FNAF poster, and there you were.” He said breathlessly, “You were watching some anime, and I was so nervous. Yet you patted that spot next to you, and we sat and binged the whole series for like two hours!”

You nodded, “And?”

“And.. and,” he murmured as the pieces clicked in his head. “Our hands touched.”

“Yup, and you looked down, yelled I had cooties and ran away,” you remarked with a bitter laugh. “Then before I even knew it, I was the kid with gay cooties who no one wanted to be friends with in school.”

Heeseung gulped nervously, “I can’t believe I forgot that was you.” His eyes now looked sad and more doe-like than ever. That was you. Weird gay, FNAF kid was you.

You bit your lip before continuing, “I know you weren’t the ones spreading the rumors. I know you probably only told your bother or your friends, but they ended up spreading it. I was bullied relentlessly. It was awful. I ended up moving schools.” You sighed. “And it got worse. I.. I tried apologizing to you for fuck sakes! Remember that?”

Heeseung’s eyes almost popped out of his head. Behind the school. You stood shaking like a little lost puppy, playing with your sweater sleeves as you whimpered out that apology. He didn’t know his friends were there. He didn’t know that they had followed you. Yet they did, and that’s when they snuck on you two. Pushed you. Into Heeseung. And you two had kissed.

“You kissed me.” He said softly as his thumb rubbed your hand comfortingly. It was awful. Your lips were chapped. And the audience was no help. The little boys laughed as you pushed yourself off of Heeseung, and ran away crying. God, it was humiliating.

“Glad you remember now,” you remarked with an awkward chuckle. “Had to retell you my middle school nightmare for you to.”

Heeseung faltered, “So that’s why you hated me.” His brain was wrapping around the information, taking it in word after word.

“After first,” you started, “I didn’t blame you directly, but it was hard. I thought we could’ve been friends. And even though I knew it probably wasn’t you spreading those rumors, I was still wandering about it. That you made everyone hate me even more just cause I accidentally held your hand. I had no friends before then, and it just got worse after that. It’s why I started streaming in the first place— I just wanted friends. Luckily, it worked out after a couple years. Plus, I meet Lix and Chan.”

Heeseung nodded, “And I didn’t even recognize you.” He laughed in disbelief. How didn’t he recognize you? Yeah, you had moved schools, but he never even noticed.

“So when you hit on me about a year ago… I was pissed. I couldn’t help the resentment towards you that had built up. I thought you were doing it on purpose. To humiliate me all over again.” You told him honestly, ignoring the heavy feeling in your heart.

Heeseung immediately shook his head wildly, “No! No! Not at all! I thought you were so cool and beautiful and awesome and—“ Your hand cupped his mouth as you smiled up at him softly, “I know.”

“Now,” you finished with a little eye roll, “Not then. That’s why I avoided you. Hated you, even.”

“Cause of those rumors,” he said understandingly.

“And,” you said awkwardly, “You were kind of my gay awakening. That night in my room? I held your hand on purpose, and it backfired. Then that kiss? I liked it!”

“What?” Heeseung said with a boisterous laugh. “You were my gay awakening. When I found your streams? You changed my brain chemistry. Girls, girls, girls to just you.”

“So, I guess we’re even,” you said awkwardly. The conversation was bound to happen, yet you still hated it. Hated having to admit everything behind why you acted that way you did towards him. Heeseung nodded before he took his hand from your face, and moving it away. Then he hugged you. Strong, comfortingly. He hugged you. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. I’ve known that for a while.” You say teasingly. “I forgave you before I even knew I forgave you.”

Heeseung quirked his brows as he smiled, “What does that mean?”

“I think I always kinda held feelings for you even in my little ‘I hate Heeseung’ era.” You say embarrassed as you lean your forehead into Heeseung’s chest. “Chan and Felix called it.”

“Then you’re right— we’re even,” he said softly as he pressed a kiss to the center of your head. “Cause I’ve had feelings for you even when I felt like you hated me, and I never had a chance.”

“You had a chance,” you snickered. “Obviously, I let you kiss me.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes before tickling your sides, forcing you to burst out of his grasp in a fit of giggles. After pausing his touch against your sides, he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his bangs back away from his forehead. “You did not make it obvious!”

“That’s cause you didn’t see my private Twitter!” You exclaimed with a joyous laugh. “Felix and Chan were dogging on me for them!”

Heeseung wrapped his arms back around you, “I’ll have to ask them about it sometime then.”

You huffed before letting yourself melt into his hold. It felt nice. Nice to admit your feelings. Nice to bury the past. Nice to be here. To be his.

“Does this mean I can hard launch us?” You said mischievously.

“Yeah.” Heeseung laughed before kissing you once again. With a joy that surged from his body to yours. You smiled harder than ever before backing away, “And I’ll let you meet my cats.”

“Yes!”

prev || masterlist || this is the end :). thank you for reading!!

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