#Suicide Tourist | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lisired · 26 days

Text

forever yours

pairing: haechan x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut (lots of it), horror, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood, major character death, mentions of suicide, oral (m/f receiving), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), exhibitionism

summary: Thirst for exhilaration and a stupid dare brings you, your boyfriend Haechan, and your friends to the eerie camping grounds of Chimera - the name of a town rumored to be occupied by a number of vengeful, lurking spirits. But nothing is as it seems in this ghost town.

word count: 23k (see what had happened was…)

a/n: Halloween is gone but I just could not pass the opportunity to finally write a Haechan horror fic. as always, feedback is appreciated!

There was blood in your mouth.

A tart, pungent taste followed. Your tongue ached, crying with agony.

You pivoted around and groaned, “What the hell?”

As it turned out, the culprit was no other than Winter. And you were less than pleased to be met with the sight of your own best friend giggling in your face.

“You should have seen your face,” Winter teased, laughing to the point of tears.

You only rolled your eyes. Curse her and her stupid shenanigans. October was official and Halloween was fresh in the air and given so, she would be a constant of mischief.

Fortunately for Winter, she was your best friend. If not, you would not have hesitated to give her a very large piece of your mind.

You whined, “You made me bite my tongue.”

Your boyfriend, Haechan, snapped out of his fury-induced trance long enough to pull you close and ask wrathfully, “You’re hurt?”

“Just a little,” you admitted with a grimace. Now, it hurt to speak. You swayed on the heels of your feet to press a placating kiss to the corner of his lips and say, “Don’t worry, baby. I’m okay.”

Apologetic, Winter frowned and told you, “I’m sorry, bestie. I’m sure Haechan will kiss it better. Seeing as you were a total of two seconds from swallowing each other’s tongues and all.”

Like she was a fly, you swatted her away and sent her off snickering incessantly. Your boyfriend was most likely turned off by now, all things considered. You were about to kiss before Winter screeched, “Bug!” and effectively gave you the scare of your life.

You were in the middle of nowhere, after all. Chimera was a ghost town with a very tiny population and even fewer tourist attractions because anyone who valued their life would not dare explore the haunted hell town.

Not to mention you were in the woods. You were on creepy-crawly territory. A stupid, childish dare brought you to the wicked. Last weekend, Jaehyun instigated a game of truth or dare for old times sake, and dared you all to stay a weekend at the haunted camping site. So the story goes. Neither of you were adamant believers in ghoul tales.

At one point in his tetchiness, Haechan’s expression began to teeter between devilish and sinister, and a very gray area existed there. His dark eyes glared into the distance, although your best friend had already sauntered off in hounding of her next victim.

Very rarely did your boyfriend wind up on the suffering end of vexation, but having his time with you interrupted would never not do the trick.

Every time without fail.

Nevertheless, you couldn’t blame him, but it made your heart swell with sadness. Alas, jam-packed work schedules and even less time for yourselves, your time together nowadays was limited. You came home to each other every night, but grueling days of work meant you were often sound asleep by the time he arrived.

Sometimes, you would bring work home with you and stay up late, but Haechan would be snoring by the time you finally finished up and crawled under the sheets of your shared bed.

This put a bit of strain on not only your relationship, but your friendships. Which was part of the reason you agreed to the stupid dare in the first place.

Obviously, it still wasn’t just the two of you, but you’d make it work. You had to. Alongside your best friend, her boyfriend, Jaehyun, was here. Like hell he would send the love of his life into haunted woods without him there to protect her. As well as Ten and Yuta.

Your boyfriend was still displeased. A part of you was comforted by his protectiveness over you. Still, you wanted to soothe him before all hell broke loose. Bracing a hand on your boyfriend’s chest, you consoled, “Baby, I’m fine. I swear.”

Your lover was aflame, though the sweet sound of your voice made him soften. Only a little. He made sure you were flush against his body. “Promise?”

“I promise,” you replied, grinning from ear to ear. And sending his heart gravitating towards the moon. Then, you purred, “How about we go let off some of that steam in the cabin?”

Haechan smirked and you knew that you had your boyfriend back. “I like the way that sexy brain of yours thinks.”

Giggling, the two of you raced to the cabin.

Your new home for the weekend was a tiny wooden cabin that was surprisingly very warm and comfy. There were three in total, each surrounding a campfire area. A lake was not too far off and cleared for safe swimming. And there were a couple of trails nearby.

For an avowedly haunted campground, it was beautiful as far as you’d seen. There were vibrant wildflowers scattered everywhere and the water was crystal-fucking-clear. The sound of nature - leaves rustling in the wind and squirrels clambering up tree branches - was pleasantly therapeutic.

Now, you were thinking about morning sex with Haechan, moans masking the sounds of birds chirping.

The sight of you rushing to your cabin, nearly tripping over twigs in the process, was nothing short of comical. Though you found slight humor in your desperation, there was a rationale behind your every move. Above all, you couldn’t remember the last time you and your boyfriend had sex, and you were in need of a refresher.

The kind of refresher only good dick and loving could give you.

Haechan very nearly kicked in the door. You let out a cry of surprise when he jerked it back in place with his toe and flung you against the surface, kissing you none too gently.

You lingered there for a long while, making out in a hot, messy battle to conquer. Your chest heaved breathlessly, moans dangling from your lips in departure as you sucked each other’s tongues with pleasure. For a second, you pulled back, bringing your lips to that sweet spot on your boyfriend’s empty neck. For now.

When he made a sharp noise and swiftly lowered you to the bed, you knew you were in for one hell of a fucking.

It went without saying that this was going to be a far cry from a typical round of love-making. Your boyfriend was going to fuck you until every inch of the forest knew his name.

At the sight of you fumbling with his pants, Haechan chuckled and gathered your hands in his, teasing, “Slow down, baby girl.”

“Fuck me,” you heaved, as if the air had suddenly gotten thicker. Your eyes begged for him to give what you desperately craved on behalf of your body. “Hyuck, please.”

Your boyfriend gave a shake of his head, donning the most taunting smile. “Not yet,” he said, chuckling. It was nothing short of delightful to hear you beg for him, but he needed to savor you. It had been too long. “Not before I get a taste.”

Not a second later, your core throbbed, obviously excited about something now. Haechan was quick on his feet and between your thighs in the time that it took you to blink. Your panties disappeared with a yank, quickly tossed into oblivion. Your body shivered in anticipation, knowing what was to come. Haechan ate you out better than anyone to date.

You got comfortable, laying sprawled and vulnerable. Your boyfriend was in a temporary trance, eyeing your glistening cunt with sheer admiration. You could feel the heat of his breath there, making you tingle with want all over.

Haechan could feel himself twitching in his pants. Fuck, you were already so damn wet. Though that was nothing new. There was something about making out with your boyfriend that could arouse you like nothing else.

Before he caved, Haechan made sure to tease, “Be careful not to scream. Your tongue will hate me.”

That made you roll your eyes, identifying your boyfriend as his usual cocky self. Though for good reason. No man had ever made you scream much like him. “Try not to make me scream. Everyone will hate us,” you quipped.

“No can do, baby. I’m a natural.”

With a shake of your head, you shook with laughter. Granted, there was a good amount of feet between each cabin, but when at your boyfriend’s mercy, you were loud enough to wake the worlds below and above.

Ever the tease, Haechan lifted his lips and kissed his way from your belly down to the vertex of your plush thighs. You made a noise, noticing he’d skipped between. He nibbled at the edges, rendering you impatient and weaker. You could only writhe and whimper, aware that you were being tested. Or toyed with, for that matter.

Then, your lover went to town, having his fill of riling you up. You shuddered, eyes closing the very second his tongue muscled in your slick folds. Every muscle in your body was taut with tension. A kind of tension only concocted over time by a lack thereof to be broken loose.

There was a catch in your breath when Haechan lapped at you without holding back. He was a creature of desire, fingernails clamped harshly into your unfurled thighs. You were already moaning, already crying his name. There was no limit on him, none on pleasure when with him. You could already sense the tension dwindling in place of a different kind; the ecstatic variety.

Though you had been inclined to watch the view, your head angled back in a soft sigh, flush against the pillows. It was a talent how effortlessly Haechan could dismantle you. More or less. The language of your body was indefinitely etched into his memory.

“God. Oh my fucking…,” you gasped, sentence interrupted by an ensuing moan. This was only the beginning and yet already you were undone.

Haechan tasted your arousal on the very tip of his tongue and let out an unrestrained, beast-like growl of pleasure. In your mind, it almost seemed fitting. He lapped at you like a ravenous creature. But in his mind, you were the one to blame. You always had to taste so damn sweet.

You fisted locks of his hair in your fingers, back arching when he targeted your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your body was aflame, and you could feel the blood pumping through your veins hotly. “Don’t stop. Baby, please don’t stop,” you choked, promptly reduced to whimpers of pleasure. And cries of your lover’s name.

A vortex of pleasure consumed you, tossing you unceremoniously around the eye. Your thighs and toes tingled, a sign that your entire body was very much awake and alert. It came to life at Haechan’s touch, turned on at the way his tongue pivoted on your clit and penetrated your tight hole. There were sparks broiling under your skin, ignited everywhere.

Haechan slid two fingers inside your pulsing cunt and your eyes promptly rolled to the back of your skull.

For whatever reason, he was grinning from ear to ear. This was far from his first rodeo, and after years of this relationship, he had the once-mystery of your mind and body completely unraveled. No matter how much you tried to writhe away, overstimulated by the pleasure, there was no such thing as escape.

He liked watching you squirm as if you had anywhere to flee, bracing his palms on your naked thighs. He liked watching you involuntarily arch your back and rock your hips into his mouth with greed, your systems entering shutdown. Even more, he liked that he made so much of a mess of you that you could hardly seem to tell what you wanted anymore, but the arousal dripping from your cunt was a telltale sign of desire.

Just like magic, weeks of stress were long-forgotten. Haechan singlehandedly set you at ease and riled you up all the while. Tears of pleasure welled in your eyes and you clamped tightly around his fingers.

You never knew pleasure of this capacity existed before your boyfriend. He brought you to a different sphere and back, took you higher than you’d ever been. Darn the world. Your boyfriend showed you the universe and made you see every star visible to your eyes. No one had ever made you feel like this.

Which was not unbeknown to Haechan. When you began to explore your sexuality together, you detailed your past sexcapades very thoroughly to him. None as sensational as those with your boyfriend. As it turned out, they all lacked one thing in common; a partner with as much devotion to your satisfaction as your own.

They treated pleasuring you like it was menial drudgery. Not Haechan. Even now, he was ignoring the way his cock twitched between his thighs, aching to be freed. Your pleasure was paramount and he would not rest until he made you come.

He wanted to be the only one you needed and proved to you every single day that you were destined to be together. And you were content with that. You wondered how on earth you’d finally been lucky enough to find a guy that loved you as much as he loved himself. There was no one else for you, you knew that in your bones. Everything felt meant to be with him.

Unshakable and intangible. You wouldn’t have it any other way. This was a boy you would die and give your soul for.

And also wanted to suck the soul out of.

“Haechan, please. Fuck. Please,” you whimpered meekly, without a shred of idea of what you were even begging for.

Though Haechan knew. You were simply so predictable to him by now. He learned to recognize when you were near, all of the glaringly obvious signs, given that you were not subtle in the slightest. With you grinding into his mouth, it was no secret you were on the verge of a sweet release.

Haechan let his fingers pull the weight and clamped his teeth into the core of your thighs, then growled, “Come on, my pretty girl. Let go for me.”

Your dear boyfriend became ruthless at light speed, devouring you whole with his tongue like he wanted to leave not even a crumb of you to remain. His fingers were double kill, strumming you to ecstasy.

Your body submitted to his commands, because of course it did. Haechan dominated you. Even if you wanted to disobey him, it was your body’s natural choice to comply. Every inch of you was owned by your lover and he had no intention of giving it back. Not that you wanted it. You took delight in handing him the reins.

You were unstill, shaken with orgasm. There was a sharp tingle, swelling up your spine and closing in all over. It was too much. Your pussy throbbed, kneading his fingers hotly and you gave one final cry of his name before your body caved in to destruction, instantly going limp.

Though you were overwhelmed, you should have known Haechan was far from finished. Never one to stop at a single orgasm, your boyfriend ate you out until you physically could not take it anymore, making you shudder with unalloyed pleasure over and over and over again.

And given how long it had been since your boyfriend’s head had been between your thighs, you weren’t necessarily complaining.

Your chest was heaving and you were clinging to whatever remained of your breath for dear life when he eased up. Your most intense orgasms were always due to a combination of your boyfriend’s relentlessness and your extreme pent-up stress or sexual frustration.

“You screamed a lot,” Haechan said, sucking your arousal off his fingers and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You fought a tiny smirk. You always loved the way he looked with your arousal coating his plush, pink lips. Instead, you rolled your eyes and retorted through ragged breath, “Fuck you.”

Haechan casted a smug grin and didn’t hesitate to scoff, “I’m sure you want to.”

Damn it. Now you were absorbed in the thought of him fucking you within an inch of your life. “Please… I can’t wait anymore,” you begged, core still aching no matter how many times he pleasured you. He made you insatiable.

“I could never tell my pretty girl ‘no,’” Haechan crooned, inching in on you to scoop you in his sun-kissed arms. You giggled when he surprised you with a kiss. “I’ll take care of you.”

As always.

True to his word, your wonderful boyfriend began to shred himself of his clothes. With your voluntary assistance, of course. You gaped open-mouthed at the sight of his thick cock standing at attention against his stomach, lost for words and short of breath.

Never passing up the opportunity to tease you, Haechan chaffed, “Baby, close your mouth. You’ll catch flies.”

Heat wafted over you. Your voice was small, “Haechan…,”

“Shh. I know, baby. I know,” he whispered.

Your lover kneeled between your thighs and you spread them for him instantly. Haechan smirked at how pliant you were. He never needed to ask, because it was simply second nature for your body to bend to his every will.

He tapped his cock against your folds, asking, “How rough do you want it?”

“Break me,” you rasped without a second thought.

Haechan grinned, full of mischief.

He pushed in nice and slow, never wanting to hurt you. He lowered his head and met his lips to yours, kissing you as if it would distract you from the feeling of being slowly but surely stretched open. “Open up for me,” he hissed, pulse pumping at how tightly you gripped his cock, on the border of something vice-like.

“You’re so… so big,” you choked out, anchoring yourself in the sheets with your nails.

“Mm. Yeah?” Haechan asked, the slyest of smiles on his lips. “But you can take it. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You bobbed your head and your mouth parted, passing a soft moan.

Haechan thought you wrapped around his bare cock too good, too withering and tight. He was sure pleasure of this magnitude only lived between you and him, irreplicable. Even so quickly you were making short work of him, leaving him with shackled self-restraint and half a mind to destroy what was left of you.

You forwent the condoms roughly half a year into the relationship. Which was two and a half years ago. Though you took birth control pills and had no intention of becoming pregnant any time soon, if you were to have anyone’s baby, you knew it would only be your boyfriend’s. Thoughts of carrying his baby and raising a child together in your home plagued your mind, and you smiled from ear to ear.

Your boyfriend glanced at you through his lashes and an invisible string tugged his heart at the sight of you. “What’re you smiling about?”

“You,” you said with hesitation. “I love you. And I want to love you forever.”

“Funny thing to say to the guy that’s about to wreck you.”

You rolled your eyes. It would kill him to be serious even for a second. You added, “He’s also the love of my life.”

Haechan softened. Only a little. “I love you, too,” he whispered, touch betraying his affectionate words as his fingers found purchase at the flesh of your hips.

A grimace painted your face as Haechan sank his nails deeper and deeper.

From that point on, Haechan fucked you as if he loathed all there was about you, save for your body. He kept a brutal pace, seemingly fucking you fuller and fuller of his cock with every passing push. Over your soft moans, you could hear his hips meeting yours with a loud, resounding thwack, and your cunt gushing hotly.

Upon his death-grip, your lover’s name dangled from your tongue in dangerously sharp cries, sweet as honey and thick as tar. Your fingers scouted his biceps, desperate for some kind of anchorage. Haechan let out a dangerously low growl and you immediately tightened. For as long as you’d known him, your boyfriend had always been somewhere in the gray area between sadism and masochism.

When asked about it, he told you, “There’s no such thing as pleasure without pain, baby. A very thin line separates the two.”

As twisted as it sounded, you agreed.

The bed and your bodies performed in league to fill the void in the cabin, the former creaking with every reverberating slap of the latter meeting together.

You were unapologetically vocal, but Haechan too sang his praises when balls deep inside you. At first, you were pleasantly surprised by his unabashed responses. Most of the guys you’d been with prior would stifle anything above a throaty groan. But when your body talked to him, he spoke back even louder.

Your boyfriend never hid his affection for you. You were the reason he breathed everyday and he would let his body tell you as much.

Haechan clamped his tanned arm around your throat and you whimpered. The chokehold was tight just enough to not harm you, but still have you begging for breath. He gave you nowhere else to look but his dark eyes, gleaming darkly with lust and lust only.

He was all you could see. More specifically his eyes. Yours were locked there, unable to glance away. The only time they were out of sight was whenever your vision was peeling off at the edges by inevitable darkness.

Haechan cocked his head a little, observing his creation. You were coming apart at the seams, eyes widened and lips parted, trying to take in oxygen. “Hard enough for you, baby?”

“Harder,” you managed to croak.

Your boyfriend shook his head and laughed. Though nothing surprised him anymore. You took whatever he gave you with an insatiable kind of greed, as if there was no such thing as enough where he was involved.

Even when sated, you only kept coming back for more.

His pace was hard and unabating. A sharp cry split your lips when he bit your neck, nibbling at the flesh as he roughly fucked you into the mattress. You were unstill, a depthless well of ecstasy. Pleasure knew no boundaries. It was too greedy. It took, consumed, and it dominated.

Haechan was right. There was a thin line between pain and pleasure and you were somewhere in the middle, teetering in between.

The entire room was scorching. You soaked in the sight of sweat beading at your boyfriend’s forehead and gushed hotly around his cock, limbs locked together like a cluster of vines, hot skin on even hotter skin. Haechan’s grip on your throat slackened to hear you moan clearer when his tongue laced into you instead.

You sweltered. And were positive that you would die. What a marvelous way to die, you thought humorously. With the love of your life by your side. You would have it no other way.

Your back arched and you rocked your hips into his, desperate for more heat and friction. Only he could give it to you.

That was how Haechan could tell you were close and he brought his fingers to your wet sex, strumming your swollen bundle of nerves. He was almost there and he wanted you to finish together. You cried out his name, clasping his biceps.

“Cum. You know you want to,” Haechan hummed tauntingly.

Your legs wrapped around his hips to draw him deeper inside. There was something about being at the brink of climax that rendered your entire body weak. Every piece of you was tempted into doing whatever he desired; whatever his heart desired. You wanted to please him. More than anything, you wanted to make him proud.

Haechan clamped his hands around your throat anew and that was all it took to finish you. Your mouth opened, crying his name as you finally crossed the threshold of orgasm. The tingles returned, prickling with the warm, pumping blood through your limbs.

You gripped his cock and he came in turn, filling you to the brim with warmth with a sweet, high-pitched moan of your name.

Haechan glanced over at you. He never got enough of the look on your pretty face when you shuddered, still throbbing and milking his cock dry until he eventually stilled inside you. You heaved for breath and his eyes soaked in your whole body, barely fighting a smile as he noticed all of the bruises and marks leftover.

He never wanted to hurt you, but subconsciously, there was a part of him that found twisted pleasure. It meant you were his. He owned you, but you owned him. Every inch.

For a while, you both only laid there, smiling and laughing at each other. Then, Haechan swooped you into his arms and muttered into the crook of your neck, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You beamed. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Haechan replied, pressing the lightest of kisses to your lips.

“No, I love you more.”

Haechan whined, “Jesus, woman. I love you more, and that’s final.”

The two of you continued to bicker as if you were teenagers in love for the very first time. It reminded you of the early stages of your relationship, stealing and prolonging time before the other had to leave by initiating an “I love you” battle.

As the years passed, you learned to savor every moment you had together. Time became scarcer by the day. It was not to be had when you were two adults with heavy workloads.

Your boss made it his mission to call you into work even on weekends. Before he died, at least. That was a couple of weeks ago and needless to say, you were not very disappointed.

“Rest in hell,” you remembered your co-worker saying. To which you quipped, “No rest for the wicked.”

Haechan crawled back into bed with you after you were both all clean and the two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms. You could hardly remember the last time you had. It was always him after you or vice versa. Never together.

This haunted campground trip would ironically prove to be a nice oasis in a busy stage of your lives, it seemed.

A shrill scream penetrated the night and you were jolted awake.

Haechan wiped at his tired eyes and his voice was thick with sleepiness, “Is that Winter screaming in terror, because of Jay, or was that Ten?”

You nudged your boyfriend. “No, that’s definitely terror. The last time I heard that sound was when Winter walked in on Yuta taking a piss.”

“They all scream like girls.”

“You scream like a girl.”

Haechan whined, “Whose side are you on?”

Laughing, you shoved the duvet off your bodies and said, “Come on. Let’s go make sure these woods aren’t actually haunted.”

“Or worse - Yuta didn’t forget to zip the bathroom door,” he quipped.

You snickered.

Your boyfriend caged you behind his body, insisting that he wanted you to flee in the presence of any actual danger, and he led you outside the cabin. A shroud of fog hung near the ground. The sky was darker than the last you’d seen, perpetually mistier.

Haechan sauntered over to Yuta with you in convey and asked, “What’s with all the raucous?”

“Winter’s idea of a spooky Halloween,” Yuta said dryly, hands at his hips.

Your eyes rose and you saw Winter pointing fingers and snickering at a dismayed Ten, hairs standing on end. You figured he must have been the latest victim of her scares.

Ten’s chest heaved as he yelled, “You are not funny!”

Winter stuck her tongue out, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Damn right. I’m hi-fucking-larious.”

Jaehyun walked by, chuckling, and announced with a bag of marshmallows in clutch, “Time for s’mores.”

At the mention of s’mores, the six of you huddled together around the campfire like children at the distribution of sweet candy. Danger dissuaded none of you. Each of you were intent on treating this as a typical camping trip. Per your boyfriend’s idea, your phones were in a cardboard box in Ten and Yuta’s cabin for safekeeping, there were plenty of outdoor activities to keep you entertained, and you were going to spend the weekend bonding together.

Chimera, as wicked as it may have been, was eerily beautiful. And its nature was on another level.

“Calories,” Winter squealed rather fondly, clapping excitedly.

You soured the mood and said, “And cavities.”

Winter shot you a glare and had she not been on the other side of fire, she would have leapt over and nudged you in the elbow.

Instead, your best friend replied coolly, “Don’t worry. I packed Jay and I’s toothbrushes. I sent a reminder in the group chat, so I hope you guys didn’t forget.”

“I came extensively prepared,” Ten said, snatching a graham cracker from Jaehyun and shoving it in his mouth. Much to Winter’s amusement and Jaehyun’s chagrin. “I brought toothbrushes, books, water, ear plugs, flashlights…”

Haechan interrupted, “Ear plugs?”

Ten scoffed, “Oh, yes. You and your girlfriend and Jaehyun and Winter are notorious for going all night. I’d rather die than hear those two getting dicked down.”

“You’re just jealous,” you snapped lightheartedly.

Ten reached for a marshmallow and defended himself a little too swiftly, “Oh, honey. I get dicked down on the regular, but you guys have fun.”

Yuta leaned into your ear from the right and whispered, “And strapped down by you in his dreams.”

“I heard that,” Ten hissed.

Yuta played innocent and said, “Heard what?”

Your boyfriend heard it, too, but he only pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of your lips, rubbing it in Ten’s face.

For his comfort, the topic changed.

The treats began to cook at long last. Haechan made you a s’more, seeing as you were a camping amateur, and you merely watched with fondness twinkling in your eyes. You were so out of your mind in love with your boyfriend that even the simplest of gestures made your heart swell with warmth.

For the second s’more, Haechan guided you. You stuffed a marshmallow on the tip of a roasting stick and he held your hands in his as you held it over the fire. “Not too close. You don’t want it to catch on fire,” were his words, a certain concentration in his eyes tempting your heart to leap into the wavering flames.

Ensuing was a treat of chocolatey goodness.

Your friends were laughing and telling jokes over the campfire and somehow you became so engrossed in the conversation that you didn’t notice your third marshmallow was burning until it was too late. “I burned my marshmallow,” you announced with a frown.

Yuta had finished up with his, but out of the kindness of his heart, offered to switch. “Have mine,” he insisted.

“You’re too kind. Thank you,” you replied, appreciative.

Then, you glanced over to your boyfriend, though he was still chattering with the rest of your friends. For a second, you thought it went unnoticed, but he laced his fingers through yours without a word and that was the end.

You smiled. He was nothing like any of your past lovers. They were over-possessive and controlling, demanding your constant and undivided attention. Haechan, at worst, was a little clingy.

He never got jealous over tiny, harmless gestures. The bar was so goddamn low, but finally having a normal guy made you prone to constant comparisons. He was totally chill when you were in the company of male friends and the only time he ever got upset was when you were hurt.

Which was completely understandable. Instead of seeing you as an object to own, it represented his genuine respect and care for you.

He’s the one, you thought with a stupid smile on your face. Even your parents agreed and were already calling him their son-in-law. Most people you dated prior didn’t even make it past the front lawn of their house.

“Did you guys know that Chimera is actually named after a Greek mythical creature?” Ten asked, ever the bookworm.

Jaehyun insincerely sneered, “Nerd.”

Ten ignored him with a roll of his eyes and continued, “In Greek mythology, the Chimera were fire-breathing creatures that appeared as a lion with a goat head on its back, and a snake for a tail.”

Haechan asked curiously, “Isn’t it also genetic mutations?”

“In biology, yes,” Ten said matter-of-factly. “It refers to organisms with several different genetic complications or DNA molecules with sequences from different organisms done by laboratories.”

“Wow. What a way to take us back to high school,” Yuta teased.

You shook your head, intrigued. “No, no. I’m interested. Ten, continue.”

Ten flushed a little and his voice was quieter when he added, “Chimera also means a creature of the imagination. It’s something you dream of, but it’s a tantalizing, unattainable desire.”

Winter chimed in, “I’ve heard stories about Chimera. These woods particularly.”

“Me, too,” Jaehyun said. “The gruesome deaths, the questionable suicides. No wonder nobody wants to come out here, as beautiful as it is.”

You retorted, “Then, what does that make the six of us?”

They laughed.

“I heard a girl killed herself in these very woods,” Yuta said, voice low over the crackling sound of fire. “But rumor has it she was actually slaughtered.”

“In the early nineteen-eighties. I remember,” Ten replied, slightly unnerved.

Haechan snickered. “You weren’t even born yet.”

“I read a lot.”

That was obvious.

Winter whispered eerily, “They say that sometimes you can still hear her footsteps dragging across the dirt, lurking in the night’s darkness.”

Perfectly on cue, there was an eerie sound from the woods and you couldn’t convince yourself that you were the only one to hear it because each of your heads whipped around all at once. Haechan instinctively coiled an arm around you, prepared to protect you even against the soul of a girl that killed herself forty years ago if he could.

Or maybe she really didn’t commit suicide. Maybe her killer painted her death as a suicide and now she was seeking revenge on humankind for not seizing the murderer.

You immediately scolded yourself for being so silly. There was no such thing as ghosts or monsters. You believed in one evil and it was the human race. It’s probably just a squirrel or something, you reassured yourself. A squirrel with painfully inconvenient timing.

Glancing between your boyfriend, Jaehyun, Ten, and Yuta, you said, “And what the hell are the four of you sitting around for? You’re the men! Go investigate.”

Ten was purely dismayed by the mere thought. “And because I’m a man I should be sacrificed to the devil? Absolutely not. This is how people die in horror movies. They go around poking their nose into places they have no business when they should be running for their lives.”

“Let’s go together,” Haechan said, throwing you all assertive glances.

There was some reluctance, but you all begrudgingly agreed. As they say, no man left behind. Haechan still kept you flush to his chest, as did Jaehyun with Winter. He had his burly arms coiled above her hips.

“There’s no girl in the woods,” Yuta murmured under his breath. But you heard him through the thick, strained silence.

Jaehyun quipped, “Who knows. Maybe there’s one for you and you’ll stop showing my girlfriend your penis.”

Yuta retorted, “She’s the one that walks in on me. Maybe your girlfriend wants to see my penis.”

“Please be quiet,” Winter whined.

Jaehyun, on a mission to be the world’s greatest boyfriend (and a few places behind, in your biased opinion), silenced himself on command and tightened his clasp below her ribs. He wasn’t all too convinced that there was a ghost in the woods, but he wanted to ease her. It was far more likely that you were all overthinking the sound of some animal minding its business.

Your boyfriend had the exact same idea and held you even tighter. Whenever in the face of danger, his first instinct was - and would always be - to protect you. Only over his dead body would he allow harm to come your way.

But even in his soothing embrace there was still a sinister energy that plagued you, alerting you that there was something amiss here. Fog blurred your vision and darkness wore at it, making it difficult to see clearly.

Ten was prepared as always and turned on one of those flashlights he had mentioned earlier. He handed it to your boyfriend, the one currently leading your pack of six.

Ever courageous, he led each of you through the night’s wilderness, your pulse thumping in your body the entire time. For whatever reason, the fear in you was unshakable. You had no clue where it emerged from, but it completely unnerved you.

A sound of twigs snapping stunned you all and Haechan shone the light at a tree where the noise seemed to come from, just quick enough to see a squirrel scurrying up a tree trunk. As far as any of you could tell, it was the same tree the first noise sounded from. Haechan assuringly declared, “It was just a squirrel.”

Your breaths came easier. Exactly what you suspected, but it would never hurt to be one-hundred percent sure. Though even with that burden off your shoulders, unease still penetrated you.

Jaehyun, Yuta, and your boyfriend seemed fearless, while Ten and Winter were relieved that they’d been frightened over nothing. But you were still not entirely convinced.

Was it only you?

The rumors and spooky stories are getting to my head. That’s all, you consoled yourself. You’re in apparently haunted woods. Woods alone are scary enough, haunted or not. And this is your first time. Fear is natural.

Each of you turned around and headed back to the campfire you hadn’t dared strayed too far from and sensing your unease from a mile away, Haechan pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Don’t be scared, baby girl. If any monster pops out, it will have to get through me before it hurts you,” he whispered softly in your ears.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, either,” you huffed, voice muffled as you put your head in your boyfriend’s chest.

“Don’t worry about me,” he told you sweetly. “I’ve been told I resemble a bear. The worst-case scenario is one attacks the trashcan and I have to communicate with it to discourage it.”

“And what if it’s a wolf?”

Haechan tightened his hold on you, purring, “Well, I’ve also been told I’m big and bad.”

You snickered. Leave it to your wonderful boyfriend to melt your worries away with his equally brilliant humor. He made you forget why you had even been so scared in the first place, all by kissing you and making you laugh.

The six of you decided you’d had your fill of spooky stories for one night and retired to your cabins for bed. You heard more than a couple of noises from the cabin across from you - Jaehyun and Winter’s - and promptly wished you would have also had the brilliant idea of bringing some noise-cancellation headphones.

Fortunately for you, your boyfriend was a self-proclaimed genius (and maybe once or twice you fed his ego and agreed), and had an even better idea. He fucked you so hard that you tuned out the rest of the world, unable to hear anything over both of your own moans.

In the morning, you woke up and took your time to crawl out of bed. Haechan had worn you out and you could still feel the soreness in your thighs from the night before. Not to mention the gentle morning sex you dreamed of, moans soft over the sound of birds tweeting quietly.

It was closer to afternoon when you finally went outside and got some sunlight. Everyone was in their own atmosphere. You ate breakfast and listened to mother nature for a while.

There was a lake walking distance from the campground and one of the boys called out your name, boarding two three-person canoes. You recognized the voice as Jaehyun’s and he asked, “Wanna go canoeing with us?”

You mulled it over, but noticing Ten’s eyes on you was all the discouragement you needed. Each of the four boys were aboard, including your boyfriend. Ten was as dear a friend to you as the other two, but that was it. No part of you wanted to make things even more awkward and strained in the friendship than they already were.

Though you and Haechan may not have dropped any comments, Ten’s lingering eyes were definitely not lost on either of you. Besides, being with a bunch of guys was not your idea of a vacation well-spent. You refused to leave Winter alone at a potentially haunted campground.

For that reason, you had a feeling that Jaehyun was only asking to tease Ten, but you declined the offer nonetheless and said sweetly, “I’m good. I’ll stay and keep Winter company. You guys have some brotherly bonding time.”

The boys told you to have fun and you bid them likewise.

You immediately scouted Winter afterwards and found her taking pictures of wildflowers. Unnoticed, you decided to slowly creep towards her, but your fun was ruined when she said without turning around, “I know you’re there. You can’t beat the master at her own game.”

You frowned.

Winter turned around, smirking at the fact that she’d caught you with your trousers down. “What’s up, bestie?”

You flopped against a blanket she’d sprawled across the ground. “Do you think Ten likes me?” you asked, fidgeting.

“As more than a friend? Definitely,” your best friend said, coming to join you. “Jaehyun told me the boys are going canoeing. I can only hope Haechan doesn’t try to drown him.”

You knew she was only being funny, but the thought made you shiver. Of course, you knew your boyfriend well and he would never. The trust you had in each other was all needed to comfort him and to know that you were all his was more than enough.

He could be possessive, but not over-possessive. He liked to stake his claim to you, holding you and kissing you in front of people so they knew you were his, and leaving visible marks on your neck in your alone time for the same purpose. He never demanded your complete attention, as much as he adored being in the center.

Tiny gestures never made him feel bitter. You had no painful memories of your boyfriend’s jealousy. The opposite, rather. He fucked you extra hard until he felt better.

You fought a smirk. At worst, he was a little meaner than usual. But damn it did you like it when he was mean and rough.

You defended your boyfriend and said, “My boyfriend is an angel. He doesn’t get jealous.”

“Your boyfriend is a Gemini. Duh, he gets jealous,” Winter argued teasingly, seeing dead through you. A silent understanding passed between you. She liked the jealousy sex, too. “He was so mad at me yesterday.”

“That’s because he was angry. Not jealous. You hurt me and he hates when I’m hurt.”

“Whatever,” your best friend replied, fondling with her camera that Jaehyun bought her for her birthday this January. “Wouldn’t it be funny if I reviewed the pictures and I saw a ghost?”

You grimaced. “That’s one way to put it. For sure.”

“Okay, maybe not funny. But I don’t think these woods are haunted. I believe the stories about the suicides and murders, but evil spirits? That’s a humongous stretch.”

Never mind yesterday’s confidence. Now, you only shuddered. Though you wanted to agree, there was something about these woods that rubbed you the completely wrong way. And it wasn’t only the tales of ghosts. There was an intangible kind of fear ready to consume you. No matter how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t put your finger on where it stemmed from.

That was unnerving to you. Only the weekend before, you were more than excited. There was no telling what traps laid waiting in Chimera, much less its woods, which made you all the more determined to unravel its mystery.

Now, you wanted to leave the knots as tangled as they’d been discovered.

“I guess,” you told Winter. If she thought nothing of the environment, then there was a chance you were overthinking it all.

Winter heaved a pleased sigh. “It’s hard to imagine anyone could taint such a beautiful place with blood,” she said, gesturing around to Mother Nature’s handiwork.

“That sounded strangely poetic,” you replied, feeling as if you were in some sort of murder mystery novel.

Winter snickered. “As my favorite writer once said, ‘believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see.’”

You gave your best friend a look and asked expectantly, “And what does Edgar Allan Poe have to do with anything?”

“Nothing.” Winter shrugged her shoulders. “I just found it fitting.”

You laughed a little. In spite of its reputation, Chimera was by far one of the most beautiful places you had ever seen. Unsurprisingly, however, that alone wasn’t enough to attract tourists. When you checked the campground website, you ironically noticed they used its hauntedness as promotion to lure campers.

Clearly, it was working.

You found it interesting that Chimera was predominantly grass and trees. There were some signs of civilization, as you’d notice on the way to the campground, though mainly towards the center. Areas placed on the periphery of the town were especially rural.

For instance, the woods. Wildflowers consumed your vision and you understood why Winter was at peace here. You bit your lip. You didn’t want to be a buzz kill, but asked quietly, “Do you ever get the feeling that something you fear is hiding in plain sight?”

Winter nudged you gently. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just… I don’t know,” you exhaled frustratedly. “Something about this place keeps me on my toes.”

“Do you think that girl was killed here?”

You shrugged, trying to feign some semblance of nonchalance. “I think it would be easy to kill anybody here and get away with it. Think about it. There’s a lot of empty land to cover. Easier to live off the grid. You could be abducted from the mainland and no one would ever find you.”

“Okay, you’re thinking too hard,” Winter quipped with a wince. “I get why you’re scared, babe. But I also think you’re supposed to feel that way. For obvious reasons. What you need is a little distraction.”

That made you well with curiosity. “Like what?”

The second the boys were back from canoeing you and your best friend made a beeline to boyfriends, as if you couldn’t wait another. Winter had insisted only moments ago that good dick was all the distraction you needed and as badly as you wanted to make a spiteful argument, you had none to offer.

But you also wanted to simply talk to Haechan for a while. Not only was he a lover, but a friend wrapped into one. Your boyfriend had a natural ability to abate your fears, but he was also someone that would listen to them and help you wrap your head around them.

You fought a snicker at how badly that made him sound like a therapist. After this trip, you had a feeling you might’ve needed one.

Haechan sensed there was something off even from the other side of the lake and coiled an arm around below your ribs as soon as he got a chance, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Your eyes flickered. “How’d you know?”

“Gut feeling,” Haechan said with a shrug. “I know when my baby’s suffering. Talk to me.”

Your heart promptly ricocheted against your ribcage. You glanced around. Jaehyun and Winter had already snuck off to their cabin for some loving while Yuta and Ten were chattering about whatever, but you still were in need of some privacy.

You slithered into his arms and murmured, “I wanna be alone. With you.”

“There’s a nice little two-mile trail over here. Takes you around and back from over that way. We could shortcut it and be back in about thirty minutes or take the long way and come back in about sixty.”

“Let’s do it,” you said, gesturing for him to lead the way.

Going deeper into the forbidden woods was not your idea of resolving your fears, but the marvelous landscape gave you little room for complaints. Plus, being there with your boyfriend was almost romantic.

There was something about all this beauty that made you fear what was cloaked beneath.

Haechan was very patient with you and for a while you both walked in silence, absorbing your surroundings until he said, “Ready to tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know what it is, really. But this place gives me the creeps and I can’t explain why. It just does.”

“It’s not just the reputation, is it?” Haechan asked, seeing right through you.

It was almost scary how perfectly Haechan could piece you together. Nobody had you more figured out than he did. “You read me so well,” you murmured.

Haechan chuckled. “I call it the fear of the unknown. You don’t know what’s out there, so anything could be out there. The shit we fear is often the same shit we can’t control, and that’s why it scares us.”

“Does the unknown scare you?”

“No,” Haechan said, but draped an arm over you as a reminder you weren’t alone. “I like unpredictability. Anything could happen. But I understand why it terrifies some people.”

You teased, “Then, what are you afraid of?”

Your boyfriend’s tone and response in general was a hell of a lot more sober than you were expecting, “Stagnation and routine. I hate being confined to patterns. You already know that, though.”

That you did. Haechan mentioned he was considering switching jobs solely because he wanted more flexibility in life. The pay was nice and so was the insurance and paid vacations, but something had to give.

You supported him wholeheartedly, of course. Haechan never minded change and would have no problem adjusting, plus only having weekends (and scarce vacations) to each other was a ginormous test of your patience. He wanted more out of life. If he couldn’t spend it with you, then he saw little point.

“Is that all?” you pressed. He was brave, but not fearless. The reminder was very warm to you. And strangely comforting.

Haechan said without hesitation, “And losing you because of them.”

Damn it. Now, your heart was racing. It was no question how your boyfriend managed to sweep you off your feet. He was full of endless charm and sincerity. There was a kind of passion to him about you that was undeniable and never questionable.

You abandoned your self-restraint at the campground and rose off the heels of your shoes, meeting your lips to his. He had to be out of his goddamn mind if he thought he would lose you any time soon. There was no way in hell you would be capable of replacing him. In a world without your boyfriend, you would rather die lonely.

There was also something about learning your boyfriend’s fears that took the edge off your own. Maybe whatever they were rooted in was much simpler. This place spooked you because of the reputation attached. That was all.

And now that you were making out with your boyfriend, his heavy hands on your hips, you really couldn’t have given less of a damn about these woods.

He had the same idea and pulled you over by a tree. For a second, you clung onto your mind long enough to wonder what in the hell you were doing. Then, you lost it just as quickly. There was nothing but trees and plants out here. And maybe a couple of animals that would soon be traumatized. With the coast clear, you were welcome to be as reckless as you liked.

Haechan instructed, “Knees.”

You wasted absolutely no time in scrambling to your knees, what was left of your mind too warped to give a damn about the twigs crunching beneath your kneecaps. As always, you wanted to pleasure him and make him proud. Whatever the price may have been, you’d gladly pay it. No matter the sacrifice.

Your boyfriend was amused, though not at all surprised when you hurriedly reached for his pants, tugging them down before he got the chance to give the order. You wanted to taste that big dick down your throat.

There was something about Haechan’s size that made your mouth water and gape, ripe and ready, though also left you clenching around nothing at all. Obviously, you’d seen it a number of times before, but the element of surprise was a constant, non-changing factor. Damn it, you would never get tired of his cock.

Haechan noticed the dazed look in your eyes and smirked. He tapped his cock against your lips and said, “Do you got it, or do you want me to fuck your throat?”

“I’m going to suck the soul out of you,” you said with an unwavering kind of confidence.

Haechan gave a snicker. He fisted your hair behind your head and you swiftly got to work, wasting not another second to swirl your tongue around the base of his cock. You liked riling him up, liked taking your time to draw him between your lips and you knew your boyfriend liked it, too. No matter how much he bitched and whined.

“Fuck,” Haechan whined when your tongue teased the tip. He was hard as bricks, which took pretty much nothing to happen whenever you were involved.

You took his noises with delight, doing your best to ignore the tireless thumping between your plush thighs. As a distraction, you finally drew him inside your mouth, steadily swallowing him inch by damn inch as a measure to prevent yourself from gagging. Your cheeks were hollowed, breath entering through your nose.

Haechan’s grip on your hair tightened as he hissed, a telltale sign you were doing something very right. Your mouth was so unfathomably darn warm around his size that he was beginning to lose his mind, but to be frank, he lost it the very same day he met you.

A part of him used to hope that you would give it back, but insanity was a close friend of his now. Or maybe it was the dormant monster living eternally inside him, roused by you for whatever reason. And it was ravenously hungry.

A kind of greed came over and dominated you, possessing you to suck him like you genuinely intended to suck the soul out of him. As many times as you’d done it before, there could only be so much of his soul still there, though not pleasure. Pleasure was forever and always. “Just like that,” Haechan moaned, basking in the heat of your tongue pressed to his cock.

His praises only spurred you on. There was nothing you liked more than knowing how good you could make your boyfriend feel. Between the two of you lay a ride-or-die bond that nobody else would ever fathom. Even you somehow couldn’t comprehend how or why he drove you so crazy. You only knew you would do unspeakable things to please your boyfriend and sucking him off in the woods was far from the most bizarre thing on the list of shit you were willing to do.

You made eye contact with a traumatized rabbit for a whole second and it was all you could do to keep yourself from laughing and spoiling the mood. You gripped the base of Haechan’s cock, sucking him and stroking him all the while.

None of this should’ve had you dripping the way it did, but you could feel yourself only getting even wetter. You gagged a couple of times (with his size, it was inevitable) but never stopped, a sting of tears in your eyes forming out of twisted pleasure.

Haechan liked looking down and seeing you on your knees way too much, his dick in your mouth and your tear-stained face glancing back up at him. Fuck, you knew what it did to him when you looked at him like that.

Like a pretty little thing warped completely by him.

“I’m gonna cum,” Haechan said, tugging your hair. You hissed, but as he once said, there was no pleasure without pain. Nowhere did you say you didn’t get a thrill out of the sting. “Shit, baby. Are you gonna take it?”

You bobbed your head, humming around him and having a laugh smothered when he promptly made a noise of pleasure. He always wanted to last longer, but you made short work of him. A weakness if he knew one.

Noting that he was close to his peak, you pulled out all the stops to bring him to sweet release as quickly as possible. You loved witnessing your boyfriend disentangle, loved when he was running on empty without an inch of self-control. Haechan was at his worst here, rutting against your mouth to meet your pace with a roughness that never ceased to make you gag.

He was fucking your throat nice and hard, pulling your hair to use as he so pleased until the pleasure became so great that he couldn’t hold back anymore, a wave of warm cum painting your tongue. He never stopped fucking your mouth until his orgasm passed completely, high-pitched moans making you pulse rapidly. You swallowed as much as you could, not wanting to dirty your clothes and leave evidence of your lewd behavior.

Haechan pulled out eventually, chest undulating as he recovered from his orgasm, though he never forgot to ask, “You good?”

You nodded, wiping saliva from your mouth with the back of your hand.

“I hope you’re ready to get fucked,” Haechan said, helping you to your feet. Which made you snicker. If fucking in the woods was crazy, you were both out of your goddamn mind in love.

You moaned when Haechan kissed you again and you grabbed his cock in your palms, stroking him hard anew all the while. The longer you waited, the less you could ignore the fire igniting between your thighs that ached to be taken care of.

Haechan shoved you against the tree after a while and didn’t bother to slide your panties down, only slipping them to the side, courtesy of your skirt. Your palms dug into rough bark and he instead cuffed your wrists in his own hand, tightening them at your backside. He steered his cock to your entrance with the other, your arousal making it all too easy to skid right inside.

Your moans were instantaneous. Haechan stroked deeper and deeper until every inch was utterly nested inside your sweet cunt, his cock disappearing inside. He took pleasure in stretching you open, because even after fucking you time and time again, your cunt never seemed to get any less tight. He always had to coax his way inside, no matter how wet you were.

“Haechan,” you stammered, mouth hanging wide open with moans of his name.

As much as he liked hearing you moan his name, Haechan clamped his palm over your mouth, smothering your sounds while still keeping your arms locked behind your back.

Though you and your boyfriend had admittedly had sex in a number of places, some debatably strange, the middle of the haunted woods undoubtedly took the cake. The view was nice. You had to admit that it was somewhat romantic being fucked by your boyfriend against a tree while staring at an array of vibrant plants and pretty skies. And being out in the open aroused you a little more than it should have.

Your body shuddered when he released your wrists to cup a palmful of your breasts, slipping his hand beneath your shirt and his finger kneading your nipple. “You’re so beautiful like this,” Haechan exhaled. Even now, he sometimes struggled to comprehend that he could call someone as beautiful as you were his, but he would be damned if he let anyone snatch away his girl.

You listened contentedly to the sound of Haechan’s low groans of pleasure and sticks being crumbled beneath your toes as he pounded into you roughly, your fingernails finding purchase in the tree’s gnarled surface. All you could do was whimper, rooted in place and left to take all he gave you.

Haechan hit a deep spot and you cried into his palm, a weakness making your head spin with dizziness. He simply had a power over you, goddamn it. Your body could never get enough, a depthless well of lust and arousal in the face of your boyfriend.

As if he could hear whatever your muffled voice said in the crook of his palm, Haechan’s pace quickened, fucking you tirelessly with a passion that could never be sated. You wallowed in the sound of his hips slamming into yours with a sharp, wet slap. There was no denying what was happening if anyone made the unfortunate mistake of walking by.

Fortunately, your only company were harmless animals and possibly a couple of wandering ghosts.

The harder you were fucked, the harder it was to stand on your own. Haechan took and took from your body but left a crushing kind of pleasure that rendered you weak and another indescribable feeling, smothering you with the unknown sensation. But instead of fear, it aroused a dangerous curiosity within you.

“So good for me,” Haechan moaned, draping his lips over your already mark-stained neck. Your entire body was nearly coated in dark bruises ensuing after a long session of fucking and sucking and love-making. “You always gotta feel so damn good.”

His palm slacked on your mouth and you whimpered, “Baby, too much.”

Haechan slowed himself for a second and asked, “Do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head and ironically whimpered at his slower pace. God, no. You wanted Haechan to fuck you numb.

He snickered and picked back up his quickened rhythm. “That’s my girl,” he praised, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “Take it for me, baby.”

Never had your body ever felt so stimulated and alive, every muscle taut with pleasure. It was a lot, but you took it like a champ, loving the way your boyfriend’s thick girth filled you up, hard and stiff. Fire set you ablaze, heat igniting at the vortex of your thighs and shooting through you like a bundle of fireworks. You were smothered by heat, scorching all over.

Your bodies were on autopilot, sweat beading at the surface of your skin and making your clothes adhere. You were sticky with sweat and arousal and eventually bits of Haechan’s cum, the part you were most excited for. The thought of your boyfriend emptying his balls into you alone was more than enough to make your walls clamp around his cock, wanting to literally milk him dry. You moaned in anticipation.

“Want you to cum,” you whimpered, body thumped forward with every heavy thrust inside you. “Baby, please. I wanna make you cum.”

Haechan bit his lip when he heard you beg. Why did you have to be so damn sexy? It was the perfect way to bring him over the edge. “Gotta take care of my girl first, baby,” he whispered sweetly in your ear.

As soon as those words escaped his mouth, you finally noticed how close you were, body under pressure and ready to snap. You could hardly even stand upright on your own, knees very liable to giving in (and more sore than you could notice over numbing pleasure). You were prepared to be broken beyond reclaim.

“Baby, I…”

“I know,” Haechan shushed you with a sweet peck to your cheek. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m right here. Let go.”

That was all you needed to hear before you couldn’t fight release anymore and it toppled over, draping over you in totality. You came so hard that tears began to well from your eyes, your hands desperately clinging to the tree bark, bruises ready to form all over. Haechan brought his palm back over your mouth quick enough to smother a prolonged, sated scream.

He whispered praises in your ear even your body slackened, limp against the tree but still letting him use you as needed. You were trembling with anticipation, restless as you waited for him to fill you to the brim. “Baby, please,” you begged. “Fill me up. Fill me up...,”

Haechan developed a ruthless pace now, absorbed in your desperate chants and the way your pussy pulsed around his cock, endeavoring to trigger his climax. He was tangled in the heat of you, dangerously close and gripping your hips so harshly you whined, “Fuck,” into his palm.

Soon enough, listening to the sound of your sweet voice and muffled cries got the best of him and Haechan’s hips stilled inside, cock twitching with orgasm and promptly releasing hotly inside you. He gave a long hiss while you sighed pleasantly, satisfied at long last.

Your boyfriend cleaned you up while you rested against the tree, feeling lightheaded. He ensured your skirt was in place and brushed off tiny specks of dirt that had clung to your knees. Haechan, as always, was restless, but you were still trying to catch your breath from the hell of a nut that he had only now given you.

And you could feel his release still warm between your thighs, caught in your panties.

You were as fucked out as you looked and he wallowed in the darkly arousing sight of you, evidence of what happened etched across your face no matter the length you went to hide.

Haechan fought a sly grin and asked, “Ready?”

You nodded. But when you went to walk, you reeled. Tomorrow was Sunday and that morning you would be kissing these woods goodbye, but you had a feeling your boyfriend would leave you too sore to work come Monday.

Not that you were complaining. You could only wonder if that was part of his master plan.

“Disgusting,” Winter sneered lightheartedly when she noticed you limping back to the campground.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. I’m sure you and Jaehyun gave the boys a lot to raise hell about while we were gone.”

Jaehyun, directly beside his girlfriend, pulled her into his arms and said, “Hey, it’s not my baby’s fault she’s loud.”

Winter hummed in agreement. “Right. It’s his.”

“Who’s disgusting now,” you remarked with a playful grimace.

Haechan - for once in his entire life - was silent, too focused on helping you to a shower. He only chuckled a little and ushered you away to take good care of you.

You felt a hell of a lot more refreshed once you cleaned up and had a change of clothes, though ironically energetic. When in need of a nap, Haechan fucking the shit out of you plus a nice bath usually did the trick (although the bathroom luxuries were limited outdoors), but somehow you were given a burst of energy.

Though not too long ago you were spooked by what lay in hiding in these woods, there was now a rain cloud of dread and sadness hanging over you when you realized this trip would be ending all too soon. You were having way too much fun in the company of your friends and boyfriend. The last thing you wanted was for it to end.

This place was growing on you. And now that it had, it was almost time to leave. The goddamn irony.

You stepped outside. Jaehyun and your boyfriend were firing up the grill and Yuta was talking to a squirrel (you would rather not ask), meanwhile Winter was strangely nowhere to be seen. But Ten was at the empty campfire, spectacles sitting on the bridge of his nose as he flipped pages of a rather thick novel.

You chuckled. It was almost endearing. Some things never changed.

Your contemplative face was on. The conversation would have to be had one way or another. That much you knew. Your options were clear, though dull. Either address the elephant in the room, or create a rift in your relationship with willful ignorance.

So, you hauled ass right over to that campfire.

Ten was startled by your sudden presence and given the circumstances, he was prepared to give someone an earful over the unannounced interruption, but swiftly silenced himself when he noticed it was you who’d come to his side.

You winced when you noticed his jumpy reaction. “Sorry. Did I scare you?”

“No,” Ten lied and put his book face down. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to talk.”

That kindled his interest. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you replied nonchalantly. “What are you reading?”

“This book about the cycle of darkness and light. It’s in German. It’s about how the light replenishes what the darkness steals, but the darkness will always undo it again regardless.”

That genuinely piqued your curiosity. “Sounds deep.”

“Oh, yes. There are plenty of figurative details about hope and hiding your quote-unquote darkness to other people. The author likens human beings to the moon. We all have a dark side, but other people only see the lit part of us,” Ten said, and you beamed at his enthusiasm. “The part we want them to see.”

You leaned over to notice the novel was indeed in German. And impressed that he could comprehend it nonetheless. “Do you have a hidden dark side?”

“‘We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others, that in the end, we become disguised to ourselves.’”

“François de La Rochefoucauld,” you replied, recognizing the quote.

Ten stared at you, wide-eyed. “You know?”

You nodded with a smile. “He also said, ‘true love is like ghosts, which everybody talks about and few have seen.’”

Ten went dangerously silent and you knew you’d struck a sore spot, but you weren’t done applying pressure.

You continued, “You’re a really good friend, Ten. And a great guy.”

“Don’t.”

You cocked your head. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t be nice! Don’t be you,” Ten whispered frustratedly, standing to his feet. Which you did suit. “Do you know you’re the only person in this world who’s never laughed at me?”

It was your turn to be quiet now. Tension had a heavy hand clamped over your mouth.

“You’ve never mocked me. Never made fun of me. The only time you’ve made me feel less than someone else is when you and Haechan got together. Even then, none of it was your fault.”

Grabbing his hand, you crooned, “I’m sorry.”

That only exasperated Ten even more and he swatted your hand away, though careful not to hurt you, and hurriedly scooped his things into his arms. “Just stop. Don’t let me down gently. You’ll only make it harder on me.”

Ten stormed off before you could get another word in and you merely stood there, riveted in place. You glanced around and were relieved that nobody seemed to notice, but a sour sensation broiled in your gut as you wondered if you’d only rubbed salt in all the wrong wounds.

For fuck’s sake. Maybe it would have been a better idea to wait until you’d left the campground. At least then you wouldn’t have potentially ruined his whole trip.

Jaehyun passed out hotdogs as they were coming off the grill and everyone gathered together for an early dinner, but Ten was still nowhere to be seen. Yuta came to their shared cabin and offered him food, but he denied it, sulking all alone.

“I mean, shit. What did you do to him?” Yuta asked you once he returned.

You gave him a hard glare and ignored the question. “You guys should be nicer to Ten. He’s a little sensitive right now,” you scolded, then turned to face your boyfriend who was sitting directly next to you. “You, too.”

Haechan threw his hands up. “Yes, ma’am.”

You gave a prolonged exhale. It was no secret Ten had a mean crush on you, though you had denied it for as long as possible. Now that you’d confronted the issue at hand, it blew up in your face. For that reason, there was another unsettling feeling coming alive in the pit of your stomach, making your skin crawl.

But this time, you knew why. Ironically, you couldn’t tell if that was worse.

Nothing else was seemingly out of place and the evening carried on as usual, but you were definitely on edge. The shorter days meant an earlier sunset and by the time the sky dimmed pitch-black, most of the others had retreated to their respective cabins, in favor of escaping the approaching threat of bloodthirsty mosquitoes.

Except for you and your boyfriend, who approached you carrying two glasses of champagne and handing you one.

You accepted the glass and gave him a look. “And what are we celebrating?”

“Making it through the weekend. Alive,” Haechan joked, taking a seat next to you.

“Mm. You know what champagne does to me.”

He nodded, like that was the whole point. “Yeah. I expect your hands to be all over me in five minutes tops.”

You snickered and sipped from your glass quietly. Haechan placed a cool hand on your thigh, a stark contrast from the raging heat of the campfire crackling merely inches away from you. The sensation was very welcome.

There was no one around save for you, your boyfriend, and a large number of still trees. Haechan was usually full of conversation, but he was too preoccupied in drawing circles on your bare thighs, caught in how much he loved them. You smiled slyly. The feeling was mutual. Your boyfriend had some thick ass thighs.

Then, your thoughts were dark, and you frowned at the reminder of the terrible dread reeling like a vortex in your belly. “Ten likes me.”

“No offense, baby. But I think you were the last person to figure that out.”

You frowned. “I think I always knew, but I didn’t want to accept it. Because I value the friendship him and I have and I didn’t want that bond to be broken. I still can’t really believe he has feelings for me.”

“I don’t see what’s so surprising,” Haechan said, glancing up from your thighs to look you plain in the eye. “You’re a likable person, babe. I say the guy has taste. Too bad you’re already mine.”

Your lover more or less played compassionate, but you could tell he didn’t actually feel too bad about the situation. Or much of anything for that matter. Funnily enough, that kindled a kind of uncertainty in you. “Doesn’t it make you angry?” you asked curiously, threading your fingers through his bright head of hair.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would it? I already know you’re all mine,” Haechan reasoned. “I don’t need any affirmation because I know I own your mind, body, and soul. It’s like I have you under a spell.”

Maybe the champagne had you under a spell, because you swore he looked even better than normal, skin glimmering courtesy of the crackling fire. You could see an identical inferno irate in his pretty brown eyes, blood-hungry and spiraling alarmingly out of control. You knew damn well you were playing with fire, but for whatever reason, you were dangerously in love with the burn.

Your lover’s lips attacked you and you submitted to his touch, within the firing line of danger. Your hands found his body promptly, desperate for warmth, and Haechan smirked because he had predicted as much.

He could never scare you. The more you uncovered about him, the deeper you fell into some depthless pile of doom.

Haechan coiled one arm around your backside while the other skirted between your thighs, grabbing a feel of your clothed arousal. You moaned, already getting wetter. “You do realize this is our third time today alone?”

“What can I say? I’m addicted to you,” Haechan said, kneading between your thighs and watching your lips fall with a pleased exhale.

You kept touching and sucking each other until Haechan inevitably got a little too riled up hearing your sweet moans and gently pressed you against the thick log, a blanket already draped above. Strangely, time seemed to move slower, like the whole world was frozen over and there was no one else there. Nobody to interrupt your reckless fun.

A tinge of heat blossomed inside your chest, rapidly spreading elsewhere when your boyfriend plucked your shirt and bra and started to kiss his way down your breasts. You clasped your palms on his shoulders, soft little sighs still doing a number on him as he nibbled at your flesh, cock growing harder.

Just thinking about all the many times Haechan fucked you into oblivion had you in a drunken stupor and you begged demurely, “Please, baby.” There was nothing you weren’t willing to do if it meant he would stop drawing out the inevitable, no matter how good his kisses were.

Haechan swore loudly and shoved a hand down your shorts, breaking the barriers and feeling your arousal coating his fingers. Did you always have to be so impatient and wet? Your head tipped back with a moan, body arching against his touch.

You whimpered in surprise when Haechan brought you to a stand to sweep the blanket over the grassy ground and again when he pulled you to the surface, grabbing your shorts by the band and promptly tossing them aside. Haechan made sure you were far away enough from the fire not to be a safety hazard, but close enough for light and warmth.

Not that you need very much of the latter. Your boyfriend touching you kindled sparks in your body hot enough to make you sweat all over.

Your boyfriend hungrily stripped you both of your underwear and then lined his hard cock at your entrance, slippery with your own slick. In your mind, an eternity seemed to pass before he winded inside, and you clung tightly to your breath before you lost it forever.

Haechan leaned below all the while, leaving a trail of sweet kisses up your stomach. You moaned loudly, arching into his touch, somehow feeling an elated sense of pleasure. You were blatantly more aware of his cock pressed deeply into your vice-like cunt, and your legs locked around his hips, pulling him even deeper.

There was something new. Drunk sex with your boyfriend was always fun, but it wasn’t this. It was sloppier. It was teeth accidentally clashing and giggling into each other’s mouths.

None of that was happening. Instead, every sensation was a million times more unrestrained and for a second you wondered if you were making it all up in your head or if your boyfriend was simply that good at pleasuring you.

The thought disappeared as quickly as it had come, because you were too distracted by Haechan’s warm breath on your neck, tickling the flesh as he whispered a bunch of sweet nothings into your ear, full aware that it would bring you over the edge. You felt like a mad woman, unsure of anything and everything except for how perfect it felt to be in your boyfriend’s arms.

“You feel so good,” Haechan moaned into your ear, and if you hadn’t already spiraled out of control, you sure as hell had now.

“Fuck. God, Haechan,” you whimpered, too overwhelmed. How in the hell could he feel so good? Every inch of you was sensitive, but every sensation was heightened. “I fucking love this.”

You were half-tempted to pinch yourself to determine if you were lucid dreaming, but then Haechan dug his sharp nails into your hips and you instantly knew there was no denying you were very awake.

Haechan poorly stifled a snicker and watched the bounce of your breasts as he stroked deeper and deeper. A wavering orange hue casted over your body and highlighted the irrefutable evidence of pleasure on your pretty face, courtesy of the campfire.

Lord have mercy, you were beautiful. Nothing made him prouder than being able to call you his girl. No woman before you had ever left him so love-struck, so downright in love. You made him crazy in a way that he would never fathom, but what he did know was that he was in over his head and not even death could part you.

A thought crossed your mind and incited a lustful greed within you, and you grabbed Haechan’s bicep, whimpering, “Haechan, stop.”

That pulled him out of his little pleasure-induced stupor and Haechan ground to a halt, quickly scanning your face for any sign of discomfort he might’ve missed in his trance. Needless to say, he came short of answers.

“I wanna be on top,” you explained, making him pull out and lay beneath you now. “Just sit back and relax.”

Haechan submitted to you because for fuck’s sake, he was out of his mind in love with you, and whatever you wanted he would give you. You could cry for the moon and he would steal it for you. No questions asked.

You switched positions to straddle his body, reaching for his cock and steering him to your entrance. Haechan moaned when he was fitted back inside, and your hands slipped to his chest as you eyed him, having the perfect view of his face tensing with pleasure of all kinds.

Had you not been interrupted by a moan, you would have giggled. Your fingers pranced around his sensitive nipples and Haechan called out your name, palms seeking anchorage at your ass. You were both obviously driving each other insane, in a war to see who could take the other off their hinges.

Haechan watched you bounce on his cock and it was the most beautiful sight in the world to him. Your mouth parted with blissful sighs and soft moans, your bodies an amalgam of sticky coats of sweat and hotness.

“I love you,” Haechan blurted through ragged breath, but goddamn was it true.

“I love you, too,” you moaned in the midst of fucking yourself on a very hard dick. And trying not to lose what was left of you. “Shit. Holy fuck.”

Haechan involuntarily thrusted up to meet your motions, matching your quick tempo. You could feel and hear the blood pumping rhythmically in your head, your pulse thudding. Each of your breaths were quick, like you could hardly breathe through the thick tension of pent-up love and desire between you.

You simply couldn’t stop, couldn’t get enough of the feeling. You couldn’t fathom why it was so goddamn good. Even Haechan had to notice you were riding him harder than usual, chasing satisfaction with a craving that could never be satiated. You felt like an animal, wondering what it was that made him feel even better than you thought possible.

Every insignificant detail was zeroed in on. Did he always have those little scratches on him? And had you been the reason? Your eyes fell up his neck and down his torso and you bit your lip smugly, noticing all the marks you’d left behind.

“Baby, I’m so close,” you whimpered, rocking harder.

“Come on, baby. You’re so beautiful,” Haechan groaned, close and throttled by the tension. You were closing in on him, wrapping around him so tightly and driving him to climax.

The muscles in your thighs tightened and slackened, and you bounced to the rhythm of the pulsing between your legs. Haechan reached for your hand and laced his fingers through yours, wanting to be thoroughly connected with you through every moment of your orgasm.

He uncontrollably rambled some more praises in your ears about how good you felt and how beautiful you were, and you couldn’t stop yourself from coming, teeth clamping into your bottom lip to stifle a loud cry and way too immersed in pleasure to notice the pain. Your throbbing cunt and smothered cries prompted Haechan and he released inside, still fucking you back until he rested with a long exhale.

Your body went limp, crashing at his side. Looking at the sky, you could see stars, but when you closed them, they were still there.

Haechan immediately started to kiss you and you kissed back, tasting ecstasy on his lips. Your boyfriend cradled your body, whispering, “You did so good. I’m so proud of you.”

You remembered giving a soft little sigh of pleasure and Haechan taking the liberty of redressing you.

Everything after that was a blur.

When you woke up, the sky was still perpetually dark, but you were in bed. You turned to your side and came to the eerie conclusion that you were very alone. Haechan was nowhere to be found.

Maybe he’s just using the restroom, you reasoned. Yeah, okay. That happened. For your comfort, you decided to wait up until he returned.

Half an hour later, Haechan was still a no-show. That was when you began to suspect there was something far more sinister at hand than a visit to the bathroom. You crawled from under the sheets and slipped on your shoes, determined to investigate the matter yourself.

There was a pounding in your chest. Where could Haechan have disappeared to for thirty minutes in the middle of the night?

Except for anywhere. He could be anywhere in these goddamn woods and you would never find even a trace of him. A cool dread plagued your body and you wrapped your arms around yourself, praying your boyfriend was somewhere safe. You had a strange gut feeling that something heinous had happened and it was all around you, suffocating.

You crept outdoors and oddly enough, noticed Yuta seated at the campfire. You remembered making love to Haechan there, because the memory was still fresh. For some reason, it felt like moments yet days ago altogether.

Why was it still lit at this hour? More significantly, what was Yuta doing there so late?

“Yuta?” you called out.

No reply. He was stiff as a boulder. You approached him stealthily, wanting to believe he was only playing an evil trick on you.

When you could finally get a front view of him, you cried out in a blend of surprise and terror.

Nothing could have prepared you for the gruesome sight of Yuta’s lifeless body. You shrieked and screamed until your voice could barely muster a murmur. For a good while, you only stood there, muscles stiff with shock. Tears silently began to drip as they gathered at your eyelashes.

You forced your eyes away from Yuta. His face had been burned so badly that you could hardly recognize him. The skin was disfigured with marks, wrinkly and apparently rotten. You noticed the purple lines around his wrists and his slashed throat and hoped he hadn’t been burned alive.

You refused to look at him, refused to touch him. You cowered away, repulsed by the consuming stench of blood clogging your senses. Feeling nauseous, you turned over and knocked over two near-full wine glasses in your wake, bending your knees. It made you want to throw up.

This could not be happening. You rubbed your eyes, like there was a chance sleep and your tears were making you delirious. A bitter taste parched your tongue as you prayed this was only a ghastly dream. You would not accept this as reality. You didn’t want to believe Yuta was - completely and irrevocably - gone.

But regardless of how hard you tried, your body scorned you, refusing to wake up.

This was a living nightmare.

For some strange reason, there was a canoe approaching the shoreline and you made a beeline for the lake, too blinded by your need for answers to pause and ask yourself why there was somebody paddling at this hour.

“Haechan?” you called out shakily.

Nothing. Where could he have gone? The night was far too dark for you to piece together who was on the canoe. Which was unnerving.

Dread hit you tenfold when it dawned on you that Haechan could have been anywhere, slain and blood-splattered like how you discovered Yuta.

Tears made your eyes burn. There was no way in hell your boyfriend was dead. But none of that explained what happened to Yuta. And were the rest of your friends okay?

Why did nobody hear you scream?

The growing questions only made you tremble with mystification. You couldn’t for the life of you comprehend why anybody would want to do something so unspeakable to Yuta. He had been nothing but an incredible friend to you for years and a wonder to everyone he met.

Anger briefly numbered you to your fear. Yuta didn’t deserve to die. Not in such a cold-hearted, brutal manner. Nobody did. The look on his face when you found his body was permanently etched into your memory. He had been burned beyond recognition. The damage was irreversible. Even if he somehow survived the burns, there was no way to undo the distortion.

Your heart had never been so heavy. There was a possibility the wound to his neck killed him, but there was also a fair chance it only damaged him enough to render him unheard.

What if Yuta tried to scream, but nobody heard him, either?

You should have known coming to this haunted city was a fatal mistake. The rumors of people slaughtered in Chimera should have been more than enough to dissuade you, but you each were too goddamn stubborn.

Look what that had gotten you. A dead friend, a missing boyfriend, and an uncertain status on the rest of your number.

The uncertainty about the rest of your friends only made you even sadder. Had they somehow slept through Yuta’s death, too? Or were they victims to a similar fate?

No. That couldn’t be the case. Because if it was, then why had you been left untouched?

Surely, there were no goddamn miracles in this godforsaken place.

You wracked your brain trying to remember what happened. For some reason, everything was fuzzy and disoriented. You recalled the whole day up to a point. Haechan and you fooled around in bed until you finally roused. Then, you had breakfast. The boys went canoeing. You went to annoy Winter with your paranoia.

The boys came back and you went on a hike with Haechan only to fool around some more. Then, you returned, took a shower, the boys fired up the grill and you had a conversation with Ten. He froze you out and stormed into his cabin for the night.

Everyone ate dinner without him, they eventually left, and you spent the night fooling around with Haechan under the moonlight.

Then, everything else went black. You didn’t remember getting into bed with Haechan, but you assumed he carried you there. Your eyes got too heavy after orgasm and you seemingly passed out.

That was strange. And maybe too much of a coincidence. But Haechan would never do anything to hurt you. Would he?

Don’t be silly, you chided. Haechan loves you and he’s fucking missing right now. Instead of questioning him, you should be trying to find him before it’s too late.

You didn’t even let yourself wonder if it already was too late. Haechan was not dead. Anyone could leave you, but not him. Not the boy who promised you forever and then some.

Haechan was the common denominator, but Ten was the missing piece. You hadn’t seen him since you tried to turn him down gently and there was no telling if he ever came out the cabin since. He may have been in his feelings, but no anger could prompt him to do this. You were certain.

You were certain about all of them. But if not them, then who did that leave? A ghost?

Your heart raced quicker than ever before as you bolted to the lake, and you halted dead in your tracks when your feet landed right at its murky edge. The sky was still too dark for you to make out the body on the canoe. You squinted, but you couldn’t even see a body at all.

Tall, thick trees covered the border of the lake. Moonlight filtered through some of the branches, though unfortunately, it didn’t come close to illuminating the canoe. You glanced at the water and saw a pair of eyes staring back at you.

And they weren’t your own.

For a minute, you couldn’t move. You went stiffly rigid, attempting to convince your brain that this was only a figment of your delirious imagination. But the wide pair of eyes didn’t move. They didn’t even blink.

Fear flooded back into your body, bleeding thickly out of you, and you lurched back with an eldritch scream. Everything happened so damn quickly. Your back hit the trunk of a tree and the branches rattled. A body plummeted violently into the cool water, but you didn’t register the splash, veins pumping icy dread instead of warm blood.

You didn’t investigate, slumping against the tree and pulling your knees to your bosom. You cried hot tears, because you recognized those eyes. They were the same ones you always caught staring at you. They were the same ones that looked at you with hurt and heartbreak the last time you’d seen them.

Now, they looked at you with lifelessness. And they unmistakably belonged to Ten.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, as if he could hear you. “I should have left it alone. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

There was no word to describe the depth and darkness of the feeling that plagued you now. You shuddered, an imagined nipping wind numbing you beyond the surface and to the very fucking core. It was brutal and ruthless.

Every inch of your body was bitter with pain. You were so dizzy with shock and consternation that you couldn’t even stand. Your head ached from crying so damn much.

You felt like you had done this to Ten. He was even harder to move on from. Your last memories were anything but happy and you could only picture the ache and longing absorbing his features, the hurt crushing the impact of his voice.

Nothing made sense to you. Ten fell for your gentleness, but resented you for letting him down gently. You wanted to understand him. You wanted to make things better, but you failed and now you would have to live with that mistake forever. Because it was too late to undo.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” you croaked quietly, voice absent. “Now, I’ll never be able to. Please forgive me.”

Every breath you took was pained. You could barely speak without your voice cracking. There was no welcoming feeling. Especially not the self-loathing that swallowed you whole and throttled you. Everything you felt was cold and lingering, dark and unfurling.

You must have spent an eternity sitting there sobbing your heart out, mourning your dead friend, because you only stood to your feet when you heard the sound of something meeting the shoreline.

The canoe. You had forgotten all about the damn thing and frowned when you saw nobody. You walked over and had your blood already not been icy, it would have run cold.

Jaehyun laid sprawled across the canoe, completely soaked, like he had toppled over into the lake.

“Jay,” you gasped, shocked. This whole time you had been calling out for a dead body. He was ghostly pale, hair stuck to his skin.

You made the decision to reach over, careful not to rock the canoe too much in case you tripped over, and felt for a pulse. Even a weak one. Anything that proved he wasn’t gone.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Jaehyun was ruthlessly still. His body was like ice and in your head, a temperature of a negative degree. You accidentally left a bloody print on his arm, recouping your hand when you begrudgingly accepted he was no longer breathing and there was no chance of him ever doing so again, and crept back over to the shore.

Just when you thought you had no more tears left to cry, they fell again, mocking you. You could dimly see your reflection, your tear-stained face a complete mess.

That was the third dead body. With each one, you loss more and more faith that any of your friends were okay.

But there was still Haechan and Winter.

That made you confused. Jaehyun would never leave Winter by herself. Especially not in the middle of the night in dark, haunted woods. How in the hell did he get on a canoe by himself?

The whole reason Jaehyun even came on this trip was to protect her in case this place turned out to actually be haunted. Was Winter okay? Jaehyun would never let anyone harm her, if there was anything he could do. They would have to get through him before they got to her.

Maybe they did get through him.

Rage warmed you and gave you life again. Whoever did this would pay. You would find them and seek sweet revenge. But first, you needed to confirm whether or not your boyfriend and your best friend were alive.

Now that you thought about it, Haechan would never leave you alone, either. It simply wasn’t in his nature and didn’t make sense. Not even a little bit.

When presented with a perceived danger, Haechan’s first instinct was to grab you and keep you sheltered in his arms. When you were frightened for your life, Haechan never failed to soothe you, promising you he would go through hell and back to keep you safe.

That wouldn’t change all of the sudden. He was no coward. Now, your heart hurt, wondering if he had given himself up to protect you too.

You turned around and made a beeline for Winter and Jaehyun’s cabin. You needed to find her. You needed to know she was okay. Together, you could get the hell out of here, but not before you found your boyfriend also.

The campground was the same as you’d left, still as lifeless as before with Yuta’s corpse by the campfire, and you weren’t too sure how that made you feel. You darted to the right, immediately charging straight towards your best friend’s cabin.

There were no lights on. The only source of light was the campfire burning in the center. It gave you hope that Winter may have been sleeping peacefully, oblivious to all that happened.

But unlike you, Winter was a light sleeper. Wouldn’t she have noticed Jaehyun crawling out of bed or something?

You frowned. You didn’t know what happened. Jaehyun could have sensed danger outside and went to investigate. He could have kissed her forehead and urged her to go to sleep.

You shook your head and slowly opened the door, ignorant of the blood print you’d left on the knob, pulse speeding at the eerie sound of it pushing open. The darkness made you wary. You couldn’t even be sure if she was on the bed.

For assistance, you turned on the light, and breathed a little in relief when you noticed a figure slumped under the sheets. But why was her head below the comforter? Winter never slept like that. Something about it being too hot and too hard to breathe.

The relief you felt was short-lived. Dread returned and you inhaled and exhaled deeply. A part of you didn’t want to know if your best friend was dead or not. But she was too still. Like she wasn’t even breathing under the covers.

You plucked the cover off her face and trembled. There was fresh blood on her chin, rolling down her lips. And a fork in her left hand. And you had a sneaking suspicion that you knew why.

Gently, you opened her mouth, and when you saw that a piece of her tongue was no longer there you had a painful moment of realization.

Your heart broke. It didn’t split down the middle, but broke into millions of pieces. Winter was dead. But you knew damn well Haechan was still out there somewhere, good and well.

You grabbed Winter’s lifeless body in your arms and cried into her shoulder, oddly comforted by the fact her body was still warm. Everything made sense now. This was all your fault.

Nothing was a coincidence. Winter frightened you and made you bite your tongue. Then, you found her with a fork in her hand, a piece of her tongue removed. Yuta gave you his marshmallow when you burned yours. Then, you found him with his face burned without a lick of mercy.

Ten always stared at you. He was always watching. He looked at you with a kind of adoration in his eyes. You found him staring into his own reflection, body slumped on a tree.

And Jaehyun offered to take you on a canoe ride with the guys. You found him sprawled across that very same canoe.

“I did this to you,” you sobbed, grabbing her hand. You bristled when you noticed blood on her fingernails, knowing it wasn’t her. Winter fought to protect her damn self.

And you knew who attacked her.

You were so overwhelmed. You had never felt this many emotions at once before. Especially not this intensely. You were wounded and betrayed. Angry and regretful. Frightened and loathing.

For a moment, you only cried in Winter’s warmth, holding her hand and blaming yourself for everything. You begged her to wake up. You begged her to smile and tap your arm, screaming, “Just kidding!”

This had to be a prank. This had to be some cruel joke that you were the butt of, a trick at your expense. You wanted everyone to open the door one by one and laugh at you for falling for such a stupid scheme, but you knew in your heart it wasn’t true.

You saw the very real marks on Yuta’s face. You saw the lifelessness in Ten’s eyes. You felt Jaehyun’s non-existent pulse. Even now, you could feel the warmth slowly leaving Winter’s body.

Eventually you pulled away, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You saw the blood on the sheets and frowned. That hadn’t been there before. Only then did you notice the blood dampening your clothes.

How long had that been there? Was it from one of the bodies?

No, because I only touched Jaehyun. And he clearly drowned, you thought. But pushed the thought of Jaehyun’s drenched body out of your head as quickly as it came.

There were more pressing matters at hand. You needed to get the hell out of here. And you needed to do so alive. Someone had to be the bearer of bad news. Someone had to tell your friends’ parents that their worst nightmare had come true.

You found the courage to leave your best friend there and crept outside the cabin. Your phone was in Ten’s and Yuta’s. Goddamn it.

The sight of Haechan emerging from the woods made you grind to a halt. You were scared for your goddamn life. You had no idea what your chances of survival were, but you got it now. Why you had been spared from your friend’s fate.

The Haechan you loved was not the man staring at you from afar. The Haechan you’d come to know was not the man approaching you. He was somebody else. Somebody you were not familiar with and did not know how to handle.

Adrenaline thumped in your head. You had a choice. You could flee or you could fight.

For now, you decided to play dumb.

“Baby,” you called out, colliding into his cold arms. “Everybody’s dead! Are you okay? What happened to you?”

Haechan stared at you unrecognizably. You knew you were looking danger dead in the eye. There was no warmth in him, no life. He had blood stains on his clothes and scratches on his face.

From Winter, you bristled inwardly. You banished the thought, knowing your cover would be blown the longer you thought about how he had preyed down your friends.

Haechan coiled an arm around you and said simply, “It’s not my blood.”

“Not your blood?” you repeated slowly, pulling yourself away. “Then, whose blood is it?”

Your boyfriend only smiled. “I think you know the answer to that, sweetheart,” he said sweetly, but you knew only venom was inside him.

You wanted to scream. There was no deceiving him. You could tell he already knew. Haechan read you like an open book and you knew he would never not have you all figured out.

Giving up deception, you cried, “Why?”

“Because you’re mine,” he explained with a gentleness to his tone, approaching you despite picking up on how adamant you were on keeping him at arm’s length. “Don’t you see? Everybody wants to keep us apart. We can be alone now.”

“Haechan, nobody was keeping us apart,” you said, unable to justify his actions.

“Yes, they were,” Haechan argued. “Like the old geezer at your job. He worked you too much and paid you too little. I was doing you a favor.”

You paused as you processed his words. He was talking about your boss. The same boss that mysteriously died a couple of weeks back. You put the pieces together.

You gasped, “You killed him?”

Haechan scoffed. “Don’t give me that look. I know you hated the guy. I remember the smile on your face when you told me your boss was dead.”

“Yuta, Ten, Winter, and Jaehyun weren’t keeping us away from each other,” you hissed, using rage as your fuel and hatred as your anchor. “They did nothing to us.”

“They were nuisances. You spent too much time with them. You’re better off without them anyway, baby. Winter hurt you and laughed in your face. I mean, what kind of best friend does that? Of course, I had to eliminate the bigger threat before I got to her.”

The bigger threat was Jaehyun. He would go to the ends of the earth for Winter and you could tell from the moment he was introduced to you. You gave him the golden stamp of approval for a reason.

Jaehyun would protect Winter until he had nothing left to give. You had no idea how Haechan took him down, but at this point, you didn’t want to know. It made you well with pain. You hoped they met again in the afterlife and in the next one with a much kinder fate.

Haechan continued, “Yuta was too comfortable. I didn’t like how he talked to you. He always got too close, leaning into you and shit. I had enough. And Ten definitely wanted to take you away from me. I know you saw how he looked at you.”

The pressure in your heart was building. You couldn’t breathe. You needed a pulse. The whole world was upside down. “You said… you said it didn’t make you angry. You told me that you didn’t care about those kinds of things. I thought you were different.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to them,” Haechan chided, stepping closer. You stumbled and he caught you in his heavy arms, not letting up even when you tried to swat him away. “I love you better than your exes ever did. They didn’t care for you, baby. They could never love you like I do. Nobody can.”

Struggling in his arms, you screamed in his face, “My exes didn’t kill all my fucking friends!”

Haechan started to laugh. You gaped at him and his audacity. There was no kind of levity in this situation and yet he was humored. You knew now that your boyfriend was a goddamn psychopath.

You managed to slip away from him by grace of his distractedness and barked, “What the hell is so funny?”

Haechan explained through bursts of laughter, “Do you think I could have killed four people by myself? We did this together, baby. Just look at yourself.”

You reluctantly did as told. That was when the blood on your clothes finally made sense and you started to feel dirtier than ever. Was your friends’ blood on your hands? That would explain the blood on Winter’s sheets.

Unable to endure the pain, you dropped to your knees, losing the strength to stand. The blood was everywhere. It stained your palms. Now, conscious of its presence, you were hyper aware that you were covered in your friends blood and the feeling was akin to being dipped in acid.

How could you have only now noticed? You were too frenzied searching for your friends, searching for a spark of life in this desolate city.

You clung to denial, chanting through sobs, “No. No, no, no.”

“Shh,” Haechan sang, pulling you into his embrace gently. He had stopped laughing, but this was a man incapable of empathy. No matter how convincing he was. “We’re finally alone, sweetie. No one to steal you from me.”

You hated yourself for not loathing the way his body felt around yours. There was a big part of you that wanted to go back to a couple of hours ago, when you thought it was only him and you in this world, and you had no idea the traumatic experience you’d have only hours later.

That made the world stop. You found peace for a split second before hell peeled the corners of your vision again. Your head rose up, and you looked Haechan in his empty, dark eyes.

Had you imagined the spark there? No. You had to look deeper. There was a fire there, a web of temptation, desire, and viciousness. That was what you saw in him. It was passion, but you had mistaken it for a different kind.

“Haechan?” you called out.

Your boyfriend said pleasantly, “Yes, my dear?”

“Did you put something in my champagne?”

“Yes.”

At least he was honest. For once.

“You spiked my drink,” you began, voice cracking. “Because you knew I would never agree to your sick ways in my right mind.”

To your dismay, Haechan didn’t deny the accusation, only giving you a sickening smile and stroking your hair gently. Like your whole world wasn’t upside down now. He, like this was some kind of joke, merely said, “Ahchoo.”

You bristled with a vicious wrath. Haechan was out of his goddamn mind. He didn’t give a single fuck about what he had done and frankly, you’d had enough of trying to converse. You needed to get out of here immediately and seek help. There was no way you would play along with his twisted delusion.

A chimera.

Your heart stopped when you once again came to the brutal realization that your phone was trapped in Yuta and Ten’s cabin. You knew Haechan would never let you get away with a phone call. If you could even make one. In the middle of nowhere, there was no such thing as Wi-Fi or service.

Plus you were surrounded by acres of trees and water. Where the hell would you go? The main road would be too damn obvious even if you somehow managed to get there. And without a car, you were positively out of luck.

Haechan’s tone was saccharine, but there was only poison in his voice as he leaned into your ear and warned, “Whatever you’re thinking; don’t you fucking dare.”

You glared Haechan dead in the eyes, adrenaline coming over you, and you gave him a smack across the face.

Then, you leapt up and bolted into the woods. Haechan only laughed when you slapped him, but you didn’t turn around, and you damn sure didn’t stop. Fucking psycho, you sneered.

You vanished into the thick trees, now grateful for the darkness, though time was running scarce. Daylight would be approaching soon. Shock made you lose track of time. There was no telling how long you’d spent losing what remained of your sanity.

You were a livewire, blood pumping in your ears. The sound of twigs snapping behind you made you hyper aware of Haechan’s manhunt and you knew he wasn’t far behind, but you never gave up. Your legs ached from the lack of oxygen, but your white flag was still lowered. You would never give him the satisfaction of surrender until you knew you’d done all possible to save yourself.

Your lover called out from somewhere behind you, “You can run, baby - I love a chase - but you can’t hide.”

The rage blindsided you. He was the epitome of a nightmare dressed like a daydream. How could you not have noticed? This was the man you spent every spare second of your day with. How could you not have seen him for the creature he truly was beneath the surface?

Haechan liked the hunt. There was still a chipperness to his tone even as he followed the noise of your feet scurrying through those dark, wicked woods. He was evil. He was a monster. But you knew now that the villains of this godforsaken town were not ghosts or spirits - they were the very people you trusted with your life.

Tears blurred your vision and shock made the world swivel. You refused to be another rumor. You refused to be reduced to another campfire story. You would fight for your life up until your very last exhale.

“Where do you plan on going, darling?” Haechan asked, tone welling with concern. “There’s nothing or no one out here for miles. You’ll die out here before you find someone to save you.”

You slammed into a tree and swore louder than you would’ve liked, knowing Haechan was hot on your trail because you could hear him chiding you for being so clumsy.

“But you didn’t die out there,” said your therapist.

You bobbed your head. “I got back up and I ran,” you told her, shuddering as you were forced to place yourself back in what was easily the worst day of your goddamn life. “He was so close. I ran into the daylight. I was in those woods for days. I had nothing. No food, no water.”

“You had resolve,” the therapist corrected. “Because of that, you’re here to tell the story.”

You nodded a little, because you only barely survived. You genuinely thought you would die that night. If not by Haechan himself, then eventually hunger or dehydration.

“Why does this always happen to me?” you cried. “Every time I fall for someone, they treat me like a possession. But I never thought it would go this far. How come I didn’t realize until it was too late? I even…their blood is on my hands.”

The therapist stopped you right there. “He took advantage of your trust and adulterated your champagne without your knowledge to make you easier to manipulate. You said it yourself. He knew you would never agree in your right mind.”

None of her consolation helped. Half a year had passed since the most traumatic event of your life. The wound still felt fresh. You could still hear your friends’ voices and see their faces following you everywhere.

And knowing that their blood was on your hands made things even worse. You could hardly live with yourself. None of this would have happened if you would have never met Haechan, if you would have never given him the time of day. They would still be here, living their lives.

It wasn’t fair that only you and that monster survived that day. You despised yourself for giving him access, but you loathed him for what he took from you.

For what he took from them.

She asked, “Have the nightmares stopped?”

The nightmares started a little after that weekend and hadn’t ceased since. They would return to you every single night as you slept, more or less the same as before. You would be running for dear life as Haechan hunted you down. The setting was never the same. Some nights, he would chase you through a labyrinth of trees. Others, through a never-ending hallway. No matter the setting, he would hunt you until he finally caught you and leapt over you.

But only once he uttered the same four words in your ear would you wake, “You’re all mine now.”

They were simple, but they never failed to creep the living hell out of you.

You shuddered. “No. But they’ve become less frequent.”

“And why do you think that is?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It happened after I started spending time with this guy.”

That piqued her interest. “New boyfriend?”

“Not really,” you replied, the mere thought making you tremble. “I’m talking to this guy - Mark. He’s really sweet and I do like him, but I told him I’m not ready for a relationship. Frankly, I’m not sure if I ever will be again. But we still spend time, because I like his company.”

“That is a completely normal response after being exposed to a traumatic event. It may cause you to be emotionally distant, self-protective, and wary of others intentions. It is a difficult part of the process of healing and learning how to navigate through life as you did before.”

Though you already knew the answer, you asked, “Will my life ever be the same?”

“Not likely,” the therapist told you honestly. “This is a new beginning for you. You’ll be learning to shed your old skin and adapt.”

You frowned.

The therapist concluded the session not much later and you went home. Therapy was new for you. Ironically enough, it was never your idea. Instead of pressuring you into explaining what the hell happened to you, Mark suggested you tried therapy.

To think of the boy sitting at home waiting for you was bittersweet. You sincerely enjoyed spending time with Mark, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to be vulnerable with him. Like the therapist said, you were being self-protective and wary of his intentions. No matter how hard you tried, you knew you would never be able to trust the same way again.

It made you feel as if you were keeping Mark’s heart chained away. Mark was gentle and the one to suggest you take things slowly, but a godawful feeling plagued you whenever reminded he was waiting for the girl he always wanted. And there was a chance you could never be that girl.

You wondered what he saw in you. What he saw in a girl so broken that she couldn’t bring herself to love anyone. Did he want to take advantage of your vulnerability? Was he the same kind of evil as the ones before him?

Love was a wager, but you had no more of yourself to give.

As you stepped inside your car, you monitored everything around you and likely quadruple-checked the backseat. Ever since that fateful day, you were hyper aware of your surroundings. You may have escaped Haechan, but that didn’t mean he would never come back to stake his claim to you.

You drove, obsessively checking your rear-view mirror. Nobody was following you, but you could never be too safe. You were more wary than usual today. There was something in the air.

Or maybe you were just extremely paranoid. That was more plausible.

You hated driving through town. There was a song on the radio and it reminded you of Winter, because she would burst out singing whenever it came on. Jaehyun would be sure to duet with her. You changed the station.

Then, you passed by a bookstore. That was where you met Ten. You remembered the very second your hands touched the same novel, fingers brushing against each other’s, and the glare you both exchanged then said loud and clear that neither of you would be backing down. But when he learned you had a copy of a book he’d been tirelessly hunting for, he let you have it and you promised to swap later.

Unbeknownst to you, Ten freaked the hell out that night when it hit him that he had unintentionally scored a very pretty girl’s number.

It was over for you when you saw the lake sitting at the side of the road. Yuta would meet you there for an afternoon jog whenever you had the spare time. Your friends would argue it was too romantic, but Yuta never gave a fuck what other people think. You were close, but he knew where you stood and Yuta would rather die than bone you.

Tears threatened. Why couldn’t you get them out of your head? The guilt was eating you alive. You wanted your life back. But you tainted the chance of normalcy the second you caught a monster’s goddamn eye.

As soon as you got home, you noticed another car parked in the driveway. Mark’s car. He asked if he could come over earlier to see you after your therapy session. You told him, “You know where the spare key is.”

It was definitely frightening, but you wanted to trust Mark. He displayed no suspicious signs, no red flags. Then again, neither did Haechan. And everyone knew how that story went.

No happy ever after.

There was an overwhelmingly strong aroma of sauces and spices hitting you square in the nose the moment you stepped inside your house and there was a trail of roses predictably leading from the front door to the dining room. You cocked a brow. Since when did Mark learn how to cook? This was the same boy that could barely make instant noodles without burning you both alive.

“Mark?” you called out.

No reply. Which was odd. Mark couldn’t wait to see you.

You hung your coat and followed the trail of rose petals as that was obviously what you were intended to do. The sound of old school romance music began to play even louder the closer you inched and you shuddered at how much it reminded you of Haechan.

When he was bored, he would turn on the speaker and sing his heart out to you, making you laugh at how he danced and gave you a five-star performance.

The memories used to make you smile fondly. Now, you were a well of unadulterated fear.

Even this specific song tore you down. Haechan loved Michael Jackson more than anyone you ever knew. As far as you were concerned, Mark was more of an old school rap guy.

You finally approached the dining room and your heart ricocheted at what you saw. There was Mark, bound to a chair with a gag in his mouth. And Haechan stood there with a twisted smile on his face as he saw you, holding a gun to Mark’s head.

“Mark,” you gasped, knees buckling.

You could hear Mark whimper faintly, though his voice was muffled. He looked at you with total fear in his eyes and you were more than apologetic, the self-loathing returning as you knew the innocent life of yet another person would ultimately be destroyed because of you.

Haechan playfully whined, “What about me? I’m here, too.”

“You fucking monster!” you screamed.

Your now ex-boyfriend switched on a dime and pointed his gun at you, sneering, “Sit down.”

With a fatal weapon pointed to you, you quickly complied, finding a seat at the table. You noticed there were two plates there, each at the head of the table. Mark was forced to sit at the side.

Because he had no part in this game. He was only another nuisance, as Haechan had put it in his own terms. Another obstacle to be eliminated. Tears stung your eyes.

Your ex was delighted by your submission and took his seat at the other end of the table, facing you, but he kept his gun tucked close. You couldn’t ignore the plates in front of you both. Only God knew how long he had been waiting for you. You knew he wanted you to play into the fantasy you’d obstructed six months ago, however, your ex-boyfriend was anything but deterred.

“I’m glad you finally made it. Mark and I were waiting for you to join us,” Haechan said, as if this was some friendly gathering and not a hostage situation. “Although, he was an unexpected guest. But it’s no biggie.”

You sat there and pleaded, “Haechan, please don’t hurt him. This has nothing to do with him. You want me? Just take me. Leave him alone.”

Haechan’s tone was lighthearted despite the betrayed nature of his words, “Wow. You like him that much? I thought I meant something to you.”

“That was before you slaughtered our friends like a beast,” you hissed, seething.

Haechan corrected, “More like a pack of wolves. Everything we do is a group effort, baby. We’re a team. We’re in this together. There is no you without me and no me without you.”

You met Mark’s eyes and instantly knew what he was thinking. This guy is a total psychopath.

He could tell this was what you had been hiding and you were aware. You had never discussed your trauma with him at length and Mark never made you feel any pressure to. Now, he understood what had you so scarred.

You called with disdain, “Donghyuck.”

Haechan ignored you calling him by his government name and changed his tone, feigning woundedness, “I can’t believe you tried to replace me, baby. You even told him where the spare key is. Did you actually think I wouldn’t come back to take what’s mine?”

“I’m not yours, Donghyuck,” you told him, words dripping with vitriol. “And I never will be again. You had your chance and you blew it.”

“How could you say that?” Haechan asked, eyes wide and dark with an emotion you had no intention of understanding. “After all I’ve done for you. All I’ve done for us so that we could be alone together. I love you so much.”

For a second, you were at a loss for words, then explained, “This isn’t love. This is obsession. You need help.”

Haechan furiously snapped, “I need you. And I will stop at nothing to have you.”

Your ex-boyfriend stood to his feet and you entirely expected hell to break loose, but you were thrown for a loop when Mark tackled him to the ground, somehow unraveling his ropes while Haechan was distracted by you.

Mark screamed at you, “Run!”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to leave Mark there alone to die. The past six months had been spent trying to recover from the blood on your hands and you couldn’t go through that torture. There was a chance you would lose another part of your sanity that you barely had as is. But Mark gave you a look and you bolted out of there.

As soon as you slipped out the front door, you heard a gunshot echoing and trembled, but you never stopped running. Your phone was in your car. You glanced around, expecting at least some of your neighbors to be concerned by the noise, though no one came.

Your brows furrowed. There were cars parked in most of the driveways and this was a notably safe neighborhood. How could nobody care?

The moment you got to your car you collapsed in relief when you saw your phone and immediately tried to dial the police, but strangely, your phone had no connection. You threw your head back frustratedly and nearly screamed at the top of your lungs.

You didn’t even want to ask what the hell was going on. Haechan had returned to resume unfinished business, and this time, he would not leave empty-handed.

Your only other option was to go find help and you felt a twinge of worry sitting in your stomach when you realized that entailed leaving Mark by himself. You had no idea what was happening - or had happened - in that house.

Without any other options, you searched for your keys and froze when you remembered that you’d left them in the pocket of your coat. Which you had hung up inside.

You heard the front door creaking open and exhaled in relief when you realized it was only Mark, escaping unscathed. For now.

Mark was heaving for breath and incredulous when he noticed you only standing there. “Why haven’t you left?”

“I left my keys inside,” you explained frantically, running into his arms. “I tried to call the police, but it didn’t work. And nobody came outside after the gunshot. I think he did something.”

Mark made a face because despite both your cars parked in the driveway, he didn’t have his keys, either. “We have to go right now. None of us were shot. He’s going to come looking for you any second now,” he said, grabbing your hand and yanking you down the street.

You could hardly match his long strides, but adrenaline gave you a surge of strength. Between your feet and your pulse, you couldn’t decide what was quicker. Your heart was thumping so loudly you swore Mark could hear.

The curiosity consumed you and you asked through ragged breath, “How’d you get out of the ropes?”

“Five years of summer camp in a row,” Mark explained. “I never thought learning how to untie knots would benefit me, but look at God.”

Noticing how tightly he was holding your hand only made you weaker. You hoped and prayed you would come out of this unscathed. Not only you, but Mark too. You couldn’t lose another person at the hands of your psychopathic ex-boyfriend. The guilt and self-hatred would consume you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t mean to drag you into this,” you cried.

“We’ll talk about this when we’re safe,” Mark told you, clearing another corner.

You heard Haechan’s smooth voice calling after you, but his tone was downright spine-chilling. He was out for blood. Mark held you closer to his chest as you both sprinted down the sidewalk, praying to god Haechan didn't know where you’d gone.

It was downright odd. Why was no one there but you three? The weather was perfect for an afternoon walk with your dog around the neighborhood, but there was nobody. Not even someone tending to their garden or taking out the trash. And how had no one bat an eye at the piercing sound of a gunshot?

Wondering if it was a coincidence or if there was something much more nefarious at work made your head spin. The emptiness was unnerving. You couldn’t comprehend how Haechan could have gotten the entire neighborhood to evacuate, but you had underestimated him once. You weren’t keen on doing so again.

Having Mark there to support your weight was the only thing keeping you from dropping to the ground in surrender. You were just so tired. You were tired of running, tired of mustering the strength to rouse another day only to be haunted by guilt and regret. It was close to consuming you. And there would nothing of you to remain. You were running on empty. Your body was exhausted, but your mind was worn thin.

“Come on,” Mark said, noticing your strength dwindling. “You can do this, baby. We can get out of here.”

Mark ground to a halt to face you and softened when he saw your eyes. He could tell this had ruined you. He would never know the girl you were before Haechan alas broke you.

There was an uncanny resemblance between now and your nightmares. Haechan was hunting you down like an animal, hot on your heels. Only now, you had Mark to protect you. But deep inside, you knew there was nothing that could stand in Haechan’s way when he wanted something.

Mark cradled you in his arms when you slept and kept the monsters under your bed away. But this was the real thing. He couldn’t save you. No one could.

It all just happened so fast.

A loud snap rended the air and the very next second, Mark was crouching on the asphalt, stomach gaping with blood. He was wide-eyed, a hand cupping his stomach.

“Mark!” you screamed.

You dropped to your knees, crouching beside him, and tried desperately to keep the blood from leaving him all too soon. But there was so much. The sight of the deep color staining your hands only made you nauseous with deja vu.

Mark was weak, still on the sidewalk. He couldn’t scream, but you could see the pain in his pretty eyes. It thoroughly devastated you.

“Don’t leave me. Please, Mark,” you begged, tears stinging your eyes. But you couldn’t hear yourself speak. You couldn’t hear yourself think. You were so fixated on Mark slowly fading away beneath your fingertips that you didn’t notice the presence behind you until it was too late.

Haechan’s voice was saccharine but his eyes were welling with ire, “He’s not going to make it, darling. There’s no one out here to help him.”

You ignored Haechan, plagued by fear or hatred or all of the above. Watching Mark die would be too overwhelming. At least you had no recollection of your friend’s deaths. Seeing Mark take his final breaths would kill you too. “Keep your eyes open for me,” you told Mark, noticing he was going cold. “Keep them open!”

Mark was struggling, but he tried for you. You could feel the last piece of you die as he fought for his life and you sat there, unable to do anything to keep him stable. He was dying. He reached for your hand with his trembling arm and squeezed with all the strength he could muster.

That angered Haechan and seething with rage, he coiled his arms around you, pulling you away from Mark.

You kicked and threw your arms back, screaming at the top of your lungs, “Get your hands off me, you sick son of a bitch! You’ve taken everything from me! I fucking hate you!”

Haechan was unbothered, only cooing, “You don’t mean that, baby girl. One day you’ll understand that everything I do is out of love for you.”

Mark was coughing up blood now and the sight was horrifying. Tears rolled down your cheeks. You were in so much pain, covered in wounds only you could see. You could only imagine what Mark was feeling now as he took his last breaths.

Mark called out your name faintly and said with the last of his strength, “Thank you for being the best thing to ever happen to me.”

You screamed in agony and grief when Mark’s eyes shut on you. You begged him not to leave you. Though he was only unconscious, you knew you’d seen and heard the last of him.

Your pain was converted to anger and you thrashed in Haechan’s arms, only wanting Mark’s embrace. “Let me go,” you shouted, trying to escape. But to no avail. Your hands burned with his blood. Every inhale was agonizing. “Let go of me!”

“Shh,” Haechan whispered, swiping a trail of tears from your face. “Don’t you see? He was trying to come between us.”

Haechan still kept you close by, but finally released you. You kneeled to the ground, too overcome by dizziness to stand. Your mind was screaming at you. Your heart was pounding. Every piece of you was so dead yet alive altogether. You could only scream, wanting to take your friend’s fate for them.

Nobody heard you. There was nobody there. You cried and raged, but save for you, Haechan, and Mark’s lifeless body, the whole neighborhood was empty. You were alone in your pain and suffering and nobody would hear you cry.

“Why?” you turned to Haechan and screamed, lips trembling. “Why do you keep doing this to me?”

Haechan pressed his lips to your ear and told you with no hesitation, “Because there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Had you not already dissolved into tears, you would have. Life as you’d known it was forever gone because of this man and it had become unbearable now. There was no way you could live with yourself anymore. The guilt was overpowering. You were being self-protective, but Mark had died to protect you. Winter, Jaehyun, Yuta, and Ten had died at your expense. The feelings that plagued you now were simply too much for the human mind to handle.

Your palms hit the ground, scuffing the asphalt. Your body was limp with defeat. There was no fight in you anymore. He had broken you.

“You win,” you croaked, surrendering. “Whatever this game is, you fucking win. I can’t do this anymore.”

Haechan beamed, all too excited by those words. “I knew you would come around.”

Haechan cradled you in his arms and you let him. You had no more strength or will to fight him. He had milked you dry. You only sat there unmoving, wondering where you’d gone wrong. If this could have been avoided or if Haechan destroying your life was merely inevitable.

Pain throttled you, hands clamped bruisingly around your neck. You cried and screamed until it was out of your system and your voice no longer worked. Haechan endeavored to soothe you the whole time, stroking your back. Even your tears were precious to him. He hated to make you cry, but one day you would understand why this needed to happen.

For now, he had won. You said it yourself. There was a big grin on his face as he claimed victory.

“There, there. It’s time to go now, babe,” Haechan cooed, lifting you into his arms. He liked that you still instinctively wrapped your arms around your neck, and he stared into your eyes, in love with the beauty within them. “You’re all mine now.”

“I’m yours,” you repeated back quietly, accepting. “All yours.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek.

#haechan smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #haechan x reader #nct imagines #haechan imagines #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

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elizais · 3 months

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dazai who doesn't explicitly tell the agency about his lover

how dazai acts when he has a crush/partner outside of the agency reader doesn't work at the agency nor is given a part if that makes sense?? this is dazai not explicitly telling anyone about her but when the agency picks up on it fluff fluff fluff, dazai in love

dazai who walks into the agency day after day, sometimes much later than others but still there nonetheless. walking in and smiling to himself more, his silly little crush on his mind. his silly little crush who he would not let be a quick hookup. he genuinely couldn't shake her out of his mind.

dazai who leaves work giddy one day, excited to go on another date. after completing all his work on his own so he could talk about the case to you. he actually read all the paperwork so he could tell you everything in it! kunikida is a fool to think he actually just started being responsible.

dazai who is seen checking his phone whenever he gets a notification and smiling as he types out something. smiling to himself when he sees your simple or complex messages. despite knowing how much you value someone who cares about work, he is willing to message you all day instead.

dazai who doesn't tell the agency immediately because he doesn't want them to think you are just a fling. he definitely had a bad reputation but he was willing to change everything for you.

dazai who doesn't notice that ranpo notices all of his new mannerisms. fridays must be a date night as he chooses to dress a bit nicer, adjusts his bolo tie before leaving and doesn't just throw his coat around like he usually does. choosing that carefully hanging his coat up would be better to prevent wrinkles.

dazai who only starts telling everyone about his special lady when he is on his phone (messaging you) and is teased by ranpo across the room.

"sooo what is her name, dazai?" the master detective asked as he sat on his desk, kicking his feet. upon hearing his name, osamu was instantly snapped out of his trance. "have i not told any of you?" he smiled. the rest of the agency looked up from their work, confused.

"i thought you gave up on the waitress ages ago?" yosano asked. "i did, months ago!" dazai responded as he walked towards the coat rack that he hung his coat up on. pulling out his wallet, he took out the polaroid of the both of you.

"that's [name]!" he shown the room, kunikida didn't seem to believe him until he took the photo out of dazai's hands. "do you not believe me?" dazai asked, fake offense in his voice.

the rest of the agency began to gather around the photo, in awe of the adorable picture. they had to admit, the moment in time of the two of your heads squished together with grins plastered on both faces.

"my belladonna.." he whispered to himself. "now that i think of it, there have been less suicide attempts.." atsushi pondered. "why would i do such a thing when i have her? at first when she declined a double suicide i was disappointed as she is the most beautiful woman ever but her personality is even prettier.."

this whole new attitude was incredibly different from everything they knew about dazai but if anyone deserved happiness, he did. and if he talks about you like this, then they had to be happy for the both of you.

dazai who after that day, brings a framed photo of the both of you and places it next to his laptop. a messy collage of small photos smashed into a frame. another polaroid with you dressed up with him on halloween. (the statue of liberty and a tourist). another photo of you dressed up at a fancy restaurant. there is even one where you both have messy hair and you have pressed countless kisses to his face with red lipstick on.

dazai who will never let you be in harm's way. he made a promise to protect people and if he could let you meet the man who made him a better person, he would in a heartbeat.

dazai who goes to yosano when you get sick for advice because he will NOT take any risks even if it is just a cold.

dazai who does not wipe off lipstick stains before work, and takes pride in having faint marks on his face from you.

dazai who can't wait to let the people who take care of him meet you, the reason he carries on.

dazai who is so happy when you get along with the rest of the agency. although when you and the agency girls are hanging out he becomes the third wheel.

dazai who talks about you all the time to kunikida, claiming he was an "expert boyfriend" and is more than happy to give kunikida relationship advice.

a/n! so this won the poll!! as always, weekends are writing time for me so please excuse my lack of presence on here from time to time!

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #armed detective agency #osamu dazai x reader #osamu x reader

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rinhaler · 5 months

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Alexa, play - WUSYANAME - by Tyler, The Creator

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ boyfriend!Yuuji Itadori x f!reader x bully!Megumi Fushiguro

Yuuji Itadori = the love of your life and best boyfriend you've ever had. He loves giving head and he's a total sweetheart. You thought his best friend Megumi would be just as sweet when he joined your art class. But, ugh, he's the worst!

disclaimer: this series is a re-upload from my old blog @fuwushiguro ! warnings will be added accordingly per chapter ♡ I'm going to upload chapters weekly until they're all moved from there to here !

chapter one: What Is Your Name, What Do You Bring?

18+, consensual sex, oral, face sitting, aftercare, disrespecting sex workers.

chapter two: Drown In Some Syrup

18+, consensual sex, oral, disrespecting sex workers, bullying.

chapter three: We Groove and We Dance

18+, dubcon/noncon, consensual dry humping, bullying, fingering, drugging, choking, degradation, bladder failure (NOT piss kink), vomiting, marking??? clubbing.

chapter four: Think Slow, ‘Cause I Move Fast

18+, exhibitionism, semi public, fingering, bullying, drugging mentions, bladder failure mention, vomiting mention, praise kink, brief fainting (ish).

Chapter Five: The Root Of The Apple

18+, panic attack, mental health issues, alcohol consumption, drug taking, bullying, drugging mention, bladder failure mention, marking mention, family drama.

Chapter Six: Smell Some Perfume, Head In The Wind

18+, (kinda) panic attack, cocaine use, familial issues, handjob, misogyny, dry humping (a little??).

Chapter Seven: We Can Sit and Talk, Baby, Get It Off

18+, consensual sex, sleepy slow sex, praise kink, water infection mention, sleeping difficulties, alcohol consumption, smoking, panic attack mention, drugs mention, family drama, arranged marriage mention, bullying.

Chapter Eight: It’ll Probably End With Me Being Forgot

18+, consensual sex, face sitting, praise kink, drug taking, bullying.

Chapter Nine: We Can Switch Off

18+, long distance relationship, slight intimidation and name calling, relationship pressure, family difficulties.

Chapter Ten: Get Your Passport, 'Cause We Runnin' Off

18+, PG chapter tbh, daddy kink mention??, attempted/thwarted bullying.

Chapter Eleven: One Minute, It's a Beautiful Scene

18+, PG chapter tbh!

Chapter Twelve: I Pick a Tail Number and We Could Be Tourists

18+, alcohol consumption, arguing, name calling, strong language lmao, PG chapter tbh!

Chapter Thirteen: I Got Your Bitch Movin'

18+, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, infidelity, gaslighting, manipulation, paranoia.

Chapter Fourteen: Bright Light, I'm Like a Moth

18+, dubcon, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, infidelity, gaslighting, manipulation, paranoia, degradation, handjob (m+f receiving), oral (f receiving), overstimulation.

Chapter Fifteen: Tell Me Where The Piece Go, 'Cause I'm Lost

18+, drinking, pining, arguing, etc.

Chapter Sixteen: I Think That I Got What You Need

18+, phone sex, praise kink, sex toys, substance abuse, pining, slut shaming, arguing, family drama??, etc.

Chapter Seventeen: I Value The Times That I Take You Out

18+, pet names, cheating, arguing, family drama, cocaine use, depression, (sort of suicide discussion), pining.

Chapter Eighteen: Call Me If You Get Lost

18+, pet names, cheating, family drama, smokin' weed!!, depression, blowjob, fingering, pining

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youraverageaemondsimp · 6 months

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Incomprehensible Horror. // Demon!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Halloween Special 🎃

MDNI, DD:DNE(?): reader discretion is advised.

block the tag #MAE:DARK!CONTENT to prevent seeing dark content from me.

WARNINGS: dubcon, cunnilingus, demon fucking(?), p in v sex, past life, mentions of abuse, plotting, murder, multiple orgasms, oral (f. receiving), size kink, cum eating, slight breeding kink, spooky vibes(?), manhandling, so much canon divergence, GoT S8 spoilers(?) kinda idk, the plot is shifted and extremely altered to fit this story. + not proofread

WC: 3.8k

A/N: the original draft got deleted and i had to rewrite it because I wanted to publish this before Halloween is over, so this is slightly rushed :(

There was something extremely eerie about the red keep that always set you on the edge whenever you would hear stories about it.

The burnt down remnants of it untouched as the city around it prospered, only developing more as the time passed on, with skyscrapers, branded shops, turning into what you would call a 'modern city'.

King's Landing was not the way it was anymore, the destruction of it provided a reason to rebuild the city entirely, it was a lengthy process but definitely worth it.

A seemingly innocent city until you look past the sky scrapers, shops, etc, revealing a sinister and a tragic history of the land, a story that involves a royal family fighting and going mad for the throne, only to succumb to their madness and go extinct.

There have been many attempts in the past to rebuild it, but all in vain as there have been cases of construction accidents, fatal injuries, suicides, making it impossible to rebuild it, so they turned it into a tourist attraction.

What a way to make money.

Yet they close it off the moment the sun begins to set.

You had visited it a lot, having been living in King's Landing for a while, it was basically harmless, making you wonder why it was rumoured to be haunted, when it's just a disfigured building with half of its structure on the ground.

It was a casual weekday for you, returning to your apartment from work after the sun had long set, you took the elevator up the building, the music abruptly coming to a stop way before you reached your floor, leaving you confused, but you soon broke out of your confusion when you heard the familiar 'ding' indicating that you reached your floor, and as soon as you left the elevator the automatic doors slammed quickly, causing a loud sound, startling you.

It seemed as if the elevator was having technical difficulties.

You make a mental note to take the elevator less often until it is fixed.

You quickly scurry to the side of your apartment, pulling the keys out and pushing it into the lockhole, turning it, which opens the door, but you stumble over something and lose your balance, holding the wall for support to not fall until you finally push yourself back onto your feet and look down.

It was a package.

But you had not ordered anything.

Weirdly enough, there was no address.

You should've left it there.

But you took it inside.

Your curiosity got the best of you, and the package not having any address only further fuelled your justification for opening it.

It was a book.

An occult type of book to be exact.

You opened it and skimmed through the pages, it seemed more like a personal diary than an instruction based book for spells.

And it was convincing enough at first until you read a certain page.

“Go to the ruins of the red keep at 3AM, and chant this, 'Oh rōvēgrie zaldrīzes dārilaros, māzigon naejot se iōragon gō nyke, ivestragī aōha kasta se melkasta laesi jurnegon rȳ nyke, iksan isse jorrāelagon hen aōha dohaeragon, kesan krenyikhé tepagon mirros ao jaelagon' for a miracle!” (Oh great dragon prince, come forward and stand before me, let your blue and purple eyes look at me, I am in need of your help, I will gladly give anything you wish.)

This made you chuckle, what kind of prank was this? This was so badly written to the point of making any paranoia you felt about this book dissipate immediately.

I mean, chanting spells? to summon a dead prince? it made you laugh, and of course the location was the red keep, a place rumoured to be haunted. It couldn't not be more obvious than that, because whatever this was, was clearly a joke.

So you pushed the book aside and settled for bed.

Sleep did not come to you.

Which you found odd.

You would usually be extremely tired, and the moment you lay on the bed, you would be pulled under the depth of slumber.

Yet now you squirmed, not being able to find any sleep.

You don't know how many hours passed, making you frustrated.

And your mind wandered off to what you had read earlier.

You glanced at the time, it read 2AM.

You purse your lips in thought, not knowing what to do.

You got up from your bed.

You knew this was a bad idea, sneaking into the red keep, with the stupid book in your hand as you navigated through the building, and then you ended up in a room with a bunch of paintings of the past targaryens.

You set the book down and kneeled, looking at the verse you were supposed to chant out loud, you bought out your phone and looked at the time, it read 2:59AM.

One more minute.

You did not know why you were doing this, normally, you were a rational person, you usually don't let your curiosity win in situations like this, having control over it, but in this case, it seems you had lost all your control, and it seemed as your mind is being controlled to do whatever was written on that page.

Besides, it's not like anything would happen.

It seemed fake after all.

Trying doesn't hurt.

You never really believed in ghosts or demons yourself, so what were you scared of?

And so as soon as the time read 3AM, you chanted the saying out loud.

You waited.

And waited.

You looked at the time, 3:10AM.

Nothing happened.

You let out a scoff, what did you expect? A demon to appear?

You collected the book and left the scene, annoyed that nothing happened, but you were also glad nothing happened at the same time.

The air felt colder than before, and lights seemed to flicker constantly whenever you crossed a street light, everything seemed out of place and odd, the buildings looked distorted.

Was your paranoid finally getting to you?

You felt a chill run up your spine.

It felt as if someone whispered in your ear, causing you to jump and look back, only to find nothing.

This was setting you on edge, you quickly walked faster back to your apartment, you frowned when you saw the "out of order" sign on the elevator, knowing that it was not there when you used it to come down prior to your visit to the red keep.

You sighed heavily and took the stairs, climbing to the floor you lived in, but for an odd reason, the stairs seemed to go on for longer, the more you climbed, the more they went on, you did not know if you were seeing things for feeling that way simply cause you were spooked, but you know for a fact that climbing 7 floors should not take more than 10 minutes at a slow pace, and yet here you were still climbing at a fast pace yet the stairs seemed to be never ending, you did not know if you were hallucinating the scribbled out floor numbers assigned to the respective floors or if they were originally like that before.

You looked down the stairwell, and it only seemed as if you climbed 3 floors, which left you baffled. You ran up as fast as you could, and to your relief you saw the '7th floor' on the board, indicating you were on your floor. You sighed in relief, making your way to your apartment, you did your best to ignore the constant flicker of lights, and what seemed like a dark figure standing from the corner of your eyes, the keys fumbled in your hands, it took you a few tries to unlock the door and when you did, you saw the figure move towards you, so you quickly rushed inside and slammed the door shut behind you.

You leaned against the door breathing heavily, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths, to try and calm your mind. You cannot tell if this was just your mind playing tricks because you're so worked up, or something odd is actually happening, but you know for the fact that whatever you were seeing was real.

Your apartment suddenly starts smelling putrid, making you scrunch up your nose. The smell was unbearable, as if thousands of dead rats were in your apartment, decaying away. It made you want to throw up, the foul scent leaving you light headed as you went towards your bedroom, to access the attached bathroom.

Luckily for you, the bedroom smelled like it usually would instead of dead rats, so you took a deep breath of the normal air, the nausea beginning to slowly fade away.

“For what have you summoned me, mortal?” a deep voice says, making you freeze in your spot, you turn around and your eyes widen in horror, as you take in the sight in front of you.

The face of a goat with horns, and scales that belonged to a dragon running down its upper body, stopping at it's elbows, black fluid dripping from its body, covering it's most intimate area, and its legs covered in scales as well, your voice was stuck in your throat, not being able to scream as the sheer panic made it unable to.

It looks confused at your horror filled face before looking down to its body and sighing annoyedly, and then its body distorts, the sound of bones cracking, flesh turning and squeezing, you watch the entire thing happen, the way its body is changing shape until it stops, making your breath hitch in your throat.

It took the form of a human man, face now mimicking a normal human, yet it was also disfigured, with a scar running up his cheek to his eyebrow, and an eye patch on his left eye, before he took it off, revealing the sapphire placed in the eye socket. His gaze was piercing, staring daggers at you, as he grew visibly frustrated at your silence.

“Can't you speak?” his voice booms across the room, causing you to snap out of your fear, and finally answer him, “I-it was an accident, I didn't mean to.” you answer and that displeases him, face now carrying the expression of a scowl.

“You followed as the book had instructed, did you not?” he asks and you nod, “Then it is no accident.”

“I did not think it would actually work, it was my mistake, please its an accident-” your voice cracks, still trying to process what was happening, trying to form words that made sense. He pushed you against the wall, his hand wrapped around your throat, long sharp nails digging into the skin of your neck, restricting the passage of air as you struggled in his grip, “On accident you say? Then you must pay the price for wasting my time.” he said darkly, and released you, causing you to fall to the ground, coughing and taking lungfuls of air.

“Should I kill you and then take your soul? Or take your soul directly and watch as the light fades from your eyes, screaming and writhing in agony in my hold.” he ponders genuinely and you gulp in fear, tears welling up in your eyes, knowing that something stupid is now costing you your life. “Please forgive me- I did not mean for any of this to happen.” you beg, voice hoarse.

“Forgive you? You should not have stifled me to begin with, now you must pay the price for your own stupidity, what shall I do hmm? My time is incredibly precious after all.” he looks down at you and you quiver in fear.

He grabs your hair and pulls you to your feet, making you stand, his hot breath fans against your face as you look up at him, and then he scans your face, taking in your features and then his eye widens as if he realised something.

And then he smiles, the grip in your hair becoming even tighter, causing you to wince in pain, “Please- let go of me- I'm sorry.” you grip his hand, trying to make him let go of the hold he has on you, “Aemond- please.” and that's when he releases you.

“Ah, so you do remember me.” he says, amused and you look at him confused, “Huh? What do you mean?” you ask him genuinely and that's when you realised you called him Aemond, it came out so naturally to the point you did not notice it.

But you still had no idea what just occurred.

Who's Aemond?

He grabs your cheeks, “I had waited so many years.”

What is he talking about?

“I won't lose you this time.” he says and before you can respond, he presses his lips against yours, one hand wrapped around your waist as the other holds the back of your head, pressing your face against him.

Your head felt hazy all of a sudden.

Why does all of this feel familiar?

You don't protest when he pushes you on the bed, climbing on top of you, you just stare at him, blinking in confusion as he tears away at your clothing, “Oh how the fashion has changed overtime, I remember last time you were wearing a black gown, mourning the death of your husband.” he whispers in your year and you feel ringing in your ear.

“What an amazing actress you were, mourning him in such a convincing way, only to get fucked by me after the funeral.” his hands trail down your body, “Such good memories, to have you underneath me, moaning my name constantly like a prayer, you were the first woman I ever desired after my death, the one who broke my curse, letting me become a true demon, it was on accident too back then.” he chuckles, he grips your pants, tearing the fabric as if it were paper.

“Until they found out of course, that you conspired with a demon, and planned the murder of your own husband.” his voice turns dark, and the ringing in your ear gets louder, your mind spins. “I remember not being able to do anything as they burned you alive at the sept, sigils placed around you to prevent me from interfering, to watch your flesh on fire as you screamed in agony, screamed my name in pain and it was then I swore that I would destroy that city.” he growled darkly.

“And so I did, possessing my own descendant and burning the city down, not too long after your passing.” he recalls with a satisfied smirk on his face, “Do you still remember my full name?” he looks at you and the ringing suddenly stops, and everything seemed to be spinning around you, his face becomes blurry and your head begins to hurt, eyes beginning to water as you feel that you were set on fire, letting out a loud scream at the sheer amount of pain coursing through your body as memories you didn't recognize flowed through your mind, you writhing below him in pain, letting out loud cries, “Shh..” he caresses your head and suddenly the pain stops, making you breath heavily, making you close your eyes.

“Aemond Targaryen.” you hear your own voice speak and you open your eyes to look at him, he has a smirk on his face, a small smile grazes your face as well, lifting your hand up to caress his cheek, pulling his face towards you to kiss you, lips engulfing his, you breathe in his scent, and he suddenly doesn't smell putrid anymore, but instead of cloves and ash.

“Fucking cunts, all of them, they remained silent all throughout the time i was abused by him, but the moment I get my own revenge, they burnt me alive.” you say after pulling away from the kiss, gritting your teeth.

You felt so confused with yourself.

Both memories of your past life and current life clashing against each other, fighting for dominance, to decide who you were.

“It's over my love, I burnt them all down.” he kisses down your neck, to your breasts, and down to your cunt, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. You smile at him, spreading your legs wide for him to settle freely and latch his lips onto your clit, making you throw your head back when you feel his tongue move skillfully against the bundle of nerves, you grip his hair, shoving his face further into your cunt.

“Fuck- you taste the same as I remember, I missed this cunt so much, seven hells.” he curses, licking away at your cunt, you moan as his sharp teeth grazes your clit. “Watch your teeth-” you whimper, feeling his fingers prod at your entrance, before gently pushing them in. He pulls away from your cunt and watches his own fingers be engulfed by your cunt as he thrusts them in and out, he groans at the sight, wishing it was his cock plunging inside you. “Goodness gracious, you're so fucking divine.” he murmers before latching on your cunt again, tongue swirling against your bud.

You feel the band in your stomach, “Aemond, I'm cumming- I'm- fuck-!” you reach your peaking on his hands, back arched as the orgasm ripples through your body. You breath heavily and watch aemond climb up, his knees on the mattress of your bed as he bends your legs, your knees pressing to your chest.

You watch as he grabs his cock, your eyes widening at the sheer size of it before flitting over to his own, he smirks, “Aemond it won't fit-” you whine but he shushes you, “You took it with no problem before, tis the same.” he lines in up against your entrance, “But still-”

“Remember when we did it the first time, you said it wouldn't fit? Only to have you crying and cumming all over my cock like a common whore.” he says and you sigh, remembering the memory.

He slowly pushes his cock inside you, taking his own time, throwing his head back in pleasure, “Seven hells, you feel so fucking good, the gods be damned.” he grunts, feeling pleasure at the way your cunt is wrapped around him so perfectly. You grip the sheets below you for support, clenching your eyes shut as you try to adjust to him.

He grabs a hold of your legs, throwing them over his shoulder before he grabs your hips and starts thrusting in and out of you, making your body jolt up and down the bed at the force. Your moans of his name soon fill the room, and he moans too, closing his eye in pleasure as he continuously shoves his cock in and out of you.

He opens his eye to look down, only to smirk when he sees the outline of his cock in your lower abdomen whenever he thrusts fully inside, he presses a hand against it and you squirm, the pleasure amplifying, making your toes curl.

He leans down, causing your legs to fall off his shoulder and be pushed up against your chest one more, his long black tongue enters inside your mouth, extending far back into your throat making you gag before he pulls it back, finally letting both your lips meet. Your hands shoot up to his hair pushing him against you, he hums in satisfaction. His scales are back on his body, along with his horns, partly turning into his demonic form, you feel him grow in size, both height and mass, and eventually down there, which rips an orgasm from you, wetness flowing down your hole and dirtying the sheets and you choke on your own spit at the sudden peak.

He pulls out, and you look at him in confusion, knowing he didn't peak yet, but soon the confusion is replaced with anticipation as he flips you around onto your stomach, your body knows what to do immediately and you support yourself on your arms and knees. Aemond doesn't waste another moment before pushing himself inside you, letting out a loud moan when he feels you clench around him.

His pace is brutal and fast, only seeming to care about his own pleasure, he grabs you by your hair and tugs on it, causing you to curve your head backward but not lean back, he's fucking you like an animal in heat, the size difference making it easy to manhandle you as he wishes.

He soon feels his peak arriving after pounding into you like a madman, and he spills himself deep inside you, cumming so much to the point it makes you feel bloated and so full, you whine when you feel his pull out. He watches as his seed leaks out of you, gathering it with his index finger and tasting it, humming at it.

“I wish my seed takes.” he mutters.

He turns you on your back again, and holds your legs wide and spread apart, and spits on your cunt, before leaning down, holding your thighs apart and once again presses his warm mouth against your cunt, only this time he shoves his long tongue down your hole, you can feel him licking around there, eating up his own spend, and that's when he flicks his tongue upwards inside you, grazing your gspot and your thighs shut around his head, trying to prevent him from making you cum again, too overstimulated and tired.

“Aemond- another time, please- I'm so tired.” you whine, your eyes closing, and he listens to you, pulling away, withdrawing his tongue from inside of you. He climbs next to you in bed, shifting into his full human form again and pulling you close.

“I won't let anyone take you away from me now.” he murmurs in your ear and you nod, turning and snuggling close to him.

There were so many questions left unanswered.

Each and everything was an odd occurrence.

From the encounter of the package to you summoning a demon, who turned out to be the one you loved & fucked in your past life, even conspiring with him to kill your abusive husband, and to fucking him again, and now laying safely wrapped in his arms.

Who was the one that sent you the package then?

Just then you remember an odd event.

You remembered the text and pictures of the book with a bunch of spells and summoning rituals, you hadn't noticed it then but it was the same handwriting as yours.

It was your diary.

And you remember losing it the day right before you were burnt to death.

And you remember writing the words you had heard in your dream, confused back then as what "3AM" meant.

You did not want to dwell on this anymore.

Because you realised that it would drive into madness.

And so, you drifted off into slumber in the arms of your beloved.

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me-and-your-husband · 8 months

Text

widow's bite (1) || e. williams

summary: "...the dangerous Black Widow is to be approached with caution, as the Black Widow's bite can cause death. she encases her victims with silk, then kills with poison from her fangs."

you're a black widow. you're sent to kill Spider-Woman. something inside of you just can't do it.

warnings: smut in future chapters, ellie is 18 and reader is 19, dreykov being gross which is canon, mentions of suicide attempt, canon death (sarah), swearing maybe? probs more, not proofread cause i'm lazy

word count: 4k

a/n: soooo i got this request and although it took FOREVER for me to write it, i was so excited that i just had to make it a series...i SWEARRR i'll try to update regularly but going back to uni is kicking my ass a little. also, ellie is basically mcu!peter. some of the avengers may make appearances. tony isn't dead.

You stood tall in front of the massive screen in his office. Videos of a girl in a red and black suit swinging through New York City illuminated your solemn features. At the top of the screen, there were only a few words: Spider-Woman: TERMINATE.

“She keeps coming so close to discovering our New York base,” Dreykov’s accent spread through the dark room. “I can’t have her getting in the way of my work. This is important.”

You nodded, eyes never leaving the screen.

“You will bring her body back to me. She seems to have some sort of abilities, abilities I can use to make you stronger. Better.” His thick hand slithered up your shoulder. “Do you copy?”

“I copy.”

His lips twisted into a sinister smile, his gross breath hot on your cheek. “Always so obedient.” He licked his lips.

He smiled, “You take off…” he glanced at his watch, “right now. I don’t want to see you again until she's dead,” he spat in your ear.

“Yes, sir.”

"Hey! Come back, mister criminal!”

Faint thwips filled the air as Ellie swung past corporate building after corporate building, chasing some burglar who happened to try robbing Delmar’s when she was ordering sandwiches for her and Joel. He would have to wait. She was just lucky she had her suit under her clothes.

He booked it down the sidewalk, cash flying out of the duffle bag, throwing pedestrians to the side as he tried escaping Spider-Woman.

She grunted as she dodged semi-trucks and cars, bikers and typical New York tourists. She almost lost sight of him when he turned a corner, but she could still hear his laboured breathing.

She could sense that he had stopped, under the impression that he had thrown her off his trail. He was resting in an alley up against an apartment building. Climbing to the roof, she perched herself on top as she looked down at him, hands on his knees as he panted.

“Hey, man, I think you forgot this!” She yelled as she dropped next to him. Before he could react, she cocooned him in webbing and left him stuck against the wall.

“You got a pen by any chance?” She asked, to which she had to dodge a ball of spit directed at her head. “Should've guessed.”

She pulled her calculus notebook out of her backpack with one of her good pens and scribbled a note on it:

“This is the one that robbed the bodega. I think you should cut old Delmar a tax break for his troubles.

Love,

Spider-Woman”

She called it into the station and webbed the note to the criminal, webbing his mouth shut too while she was at it.

As she walked out of the alley muttering “all in a day’s work”, she heard the faint pleas of a small child. Letting her heightened senses guide her, she swung until she found the source coming from an open window in a different apartment complex.

She slid the window open far enough to get inside, putting her hands out in front of her when the child noticed her and was frightened.

“No no no! Just your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Woman, not gonna hurt you! I promise,” she said, getting to the little girl's level. The girl’s eyes softened and she seemed to trust Ellie.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, lip trembling. “My sister…please help.”

“Okay, where is she now?”

The little girl pointed outside of her door, “The kitchen.”

Ellie took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m going to go help her. You stay right here, okay? Don’t move.”

Something inside of her told her that something was wrong. She brushes it off as someone else being in danger.

As she creeps out of the child’s room, she surveys her surroundings. It looked like a regular New York apartment, a little messy, but nothing her and Joel’s place hadn't seen. Everything was fine.

Until it wasn't.

She suddenly had difficulty breathing when you jumped from somewhere above and wrapped your legs around her neck, squeezing. You elbowed her head repeatedly.

She grabbed you by your hips and threw you off of her, gasping for breath. Her naivety still told her that you needed help.

Was it her naivety?

“Calm down, lady! I’m trying to help you!” she said, still gasping. She watched the girl scurry past her and over to you. “I thought I said—”

She stopped talking when she saw you hand the girl a twenty, eyes still trained on Spider-Woman.

Once you knew the child was a safe distance away, you attacked. His voice rang in the back of your head. No casualties. No witnesses.

You lunged at her, hands finding her throat.

“Woah, at least take me on a date first,” she remarked as she easily slid out of your grasp, jumping up to the ceiling and latching on. She webbed your left arm to the wall. You let out a grunt of dissatisfaction as you squeezed your fist, a blade coming out of your cuff and slicing through the web. It was installed in all of the Widows’ suits in case of capture.

“Oh. That's pretty cool, honestly,” she said as she dodged a bullet from your pistol, flipping down from the roof. You charged her again, this time taking out her legs and pinning to the ground. You threw a hook right at her jaw, to which she exclaimed “Ow!”, catching the next one with ease. Your eyes widened as she flipped the two of you over, pinning you underneath her.

“Look, I don't want to—”

Before she could finish, you had sent electric currents through your suit, effectively tazing her.

In her incapacitation, you were able to flip over again and pressure your knee against her neck. While she struggled for air, her legs flailed underneath her. She managed to knee you in the stomach, opening up an opportunity to throw you off her. You both stood up, ready to go at it again, both slightly out of breath.

“Are you gonna say something?” Silence. “Can you even talk?”

She lunged forward in an attempt to pull down the mask that covered half of your face, a piece of fabric resting atop the bridge of your nose. Before she could grab it, you grabbed her wrists, locating her web cartridges. You released another electric current, frying them.

She stepped back, trying to shoot webs, but to no avail. That's when she saw the text on the bicep of your suit: WIDOW-893. “Shit!”

You threw a swift kick into her abdomen while she was caught off guard and knocked her down to her knees. Her eyes widened as you threw punches at her face, too dazed to think of blocking. When she finally grabbed your fist, she could feel the blood from her nose leaking through her mask and could taste metal.

“You’re a Widow? Like Nat?”

You struggled to get your hand out of her grasp. Instead, you pushed all your weight forward and landed on top of her chest, pinning her arms.

You reached forward and slid your fingers under the fabric of her mask. She struggled underneath you, but you had her pinned and she wasn't going anywhere.

You basked in her struggle, slowly sliding the mask off her face.

“I was sent to kill you.”

“So you do talk. Wait—”

“And that's what I’m going to do.”

“Please don't take my mask off. Please. Please don't kill me. Oh god, I have so much to live for, please—!”

You slipped her mask off completely to be met with her perfectly curved and soft lips, her delicate green eyes, and her pretty freckles, her auburn hair messy from having it under the mask. Her brows furrowed and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for it to happen. When it didn't, she slowly opened one eye, and then the other. She was met with you admiring her face, gaze raking over her features.

Your eyes were wide and seemed slightly glassy, and she couldn't help but wonder why they looked so distant. Why it looked like you were trapped behind them.

She realized you weren't pinning her down anymore. She loosened an arm slowly from underneath you and brought it up to the fabric around your face, gently beginning to tug the mask down.

Your cold grasp on her wrist stopped her. “Don't.”

“Why not?” She whispered.

You tore your gaze away from her, standing up. You turned your back to her.

Looking back at her once more, you said, “Because it will end badly."

You moved to leave through the window, but a thought stopped you briefly

The truth is, you didn't know what to do. It's like you had just gained free will, like she had broken some spell. You had thought you were operating on your own terms until now.

You'd been sent to take out powerful men, some women, usually old, usually established, usually somewhat corrupt. But when you saw the fear in the eyes of a girl your age, your body shocked you back into free will.

Your back still to the girl, you just shook your head and jumped.

She coughed as she pushed herself up off the ground and shoved the mask back down over her face, wondering if she'd ever see you again. If she'd ever find out who you really are.

“This is WIDOW-893,” you said into your comm-link, talking to an obscure agent you'd probably never meet. “I need an extraction. I’m sending you my location now.”

Static sounded in your ear before a harsh male voice began, “Has the mission been completed?”

You elected to ignore the question.

“Has the target been eliminated?”

More silence as you hunted for a place to lay low for a bit.

“Widow, has the target been eliminated?!” The agent’s frustration was palpable in his voice.

You swallowed. “Negative.”

“What do you mean, negative? This mission was of utmost— Sorry? Yes, sir.” Some keyboard clicks. “She can hear you now.”

“893, why wasn't your mission completed?” Dreykov’s invigorated voice droned through the comm. You searched for an excuse that wouldn't get you terminated. Or worse.

“The target seems to have heightened senses. She was able to get the jump on me before I was in position. My identity was almost discovered so I was forced to retreat.”

Dreykov let out a pained sigh. Slowly, he said, “I’m only going to tell you this once, agent, so listen very carefully. You are disposable. The mission must proceed, regardless of your comfort. We can easily terminate you and move on to the next Widow. Copy?”

“I copy.”

“Now, if this happens again, I will have you terminated. You get a pass this time because you're one of the…finer specimens we have. You will not be sent an extraction. You will complete this mission in terminating Spider-Woman. Do not make contact until then,” he said, and you could almost feel his hands slithering up your back and around your neck. “And don't think you're not being watched.”

With that, the connection was severed.

Ellie threw the soggy McDonald’s bag down on the kitchen table as Joel stood at the sink washing dishes.

“Couldn't get sandwiches from Delmar’s. Poor guy got robbed again,” she said as she began digging in the bag for her fries.

Joel turned around to give her a shocked look. “Someone’s gotta look out for the people in this city. Lord knows the cops ain’t doin' much,” he said, shaking his head.

“Well…Spider-Woman looks out for people,” Ellie said, tearing the waters. Joel never really sided with J. Jonah Jameson from that stupid news station, but he was never really for the “vigilante” either.

He sighed. “Look, Ellie…I know you think Spider-Woman is cool and all, and I think it's good that she looks out for the normal people of New York, but I think it's irresponsible. I mean, I’m sure she's got people in her life that love her and she’s puttin’ her life at risk seven days a week,” he said as he dried the dishes and put them away.

“Yeah but,” Ellie said through a mouthful of fries, “If you had that power, wouldn't you be responsible for using it for good?”

“Yes, I suppose. But with great power comes great responsibility, Ellie. And with responsibility comes an immense need for balance. Remember that,” he said, turning to look at her.

Ellie swallowed the last few fries as she took a moment to digest what Joel had said. She gave him a meaningful smile before he turned back around to put the last few dishes away.

She couldn't help but think about your “power”. Was it given to you, or forced on you? How did you become so skilled? You were her age, or at least not far off. She’d never met someone so close to her age who held such a huge responsibility. But was it really a responsibility if you were being forced into it?

She knew she'd probably never come across you again, so there wasn't really a reason to overthink it. Right now, she just wanted to finish her Physics homework and watch The Empire Strikes Back with Jesse.

Weeks had gone by and every moment plagued your mind with thoughts of Ellie. Or rather, if you had it in yourself to kill her.

Your immense training in Covert Ops was indeed handy for situations like these. You shadowed Ellie almost 24/7. You followed her on her commute to her high school, which you noted to be Midtown. You surveilled her through the cameras you'd planted in all of her classes. You followed her after school to the alley where she'd leave her school stuff and switch to her second life. You climbed from building to building as you followed her web-slinging as closely as possible without being seen. You searched and searched for something to justify it, something to prove she's a bad person and deserves to be terminated. But nothing. Nothing when she helped old ladies carry their groceries inside, or rescue little girls' cats from trees, or stop lecherous men from harassing women on the street. Especially nothing when you spied through her living room window and saw her laughing with her dad every Sunday morning.

Three weeks after your first attempt at termination, you had stumbled across the perfect moment to investigate your target’s bedroom. She was at a field trip to the Museum of Modern Art with her class, and her dad was at work.

Around noon, you whistled as you climbed the stairs to the apartment, smiling softly as you find the right one. You knock for good measure, and when nobody answers you slide two bobby pins out from your hair when to pick the lock. Classic, but it always works.

When you open the door you lock it again from the inside so nothing would seem astray. You feel an uncomfortable, throbbing pain in your chest as you look around at the framed portraits of your target and her dad, lots from when she was young. One of her holding a medal in a soccer jersey. One of them at a planetarium together. One of them with a model dinosaur in the background, a hat atop its head, both of them grinning.

You creep through the hallway, looking for one room in particular. Opening the first door, you enter an office space. You decide it might be useful in gathering intel on her family.

You slide open a drawer of the filing cabinet labelled “records”. There seemed to be two sections, one for her father’s business, and one for their personal records. The latter had significantly less material. You slid out the folders and placed them on the desk, taking a seat in the chair.

The first folder read: ADOPTION RECORDS

You skimmed the papers and deduced that about five years ago, a man named Joel Miller (presumably the target’s father) and a woman named adopted a girl named Ellie Williams, but had fostered her long before that with a woman named Theresa Servopoulos, the word “deceased” in brackets next to her name. Anna Williams, her single mother, died shortly after childbirth and a woman named Marlene took her in. However, Marlene gave her up to a foster home once she hit school age.

Another folder read: MEDICAL RECORDS

Ellie had a long history of optometry visits prior to about two years ago, then they just suddenly stopped. There was nothing else really interesting in her file.

Joel, however, was a different story. Medical records that yellowed and flaked at the edges sat in his file from over 20 years ago. He was admitted for a self inflicted GSW to the head shortly after the death of his daughter, Sarah Miller. He was admitted to a psychiatric ward by request of his brother, Tommy Miller, shortly after.

Another file read: ELLIE’S SCHOOL RECORDS

It was evident that Ellie had excelled in school ever since she had settled in with Joel, specifically in the math and science areas. Her transcripts highlighted a bright 4.0 gpa. She had a bright future.

Now with a name for your target, you decided to search her room to gain some more personal intel. Tucking the files away and closing the drawers, you stalked out of the office and down the hall to what was Ellie’s room (the words “Ellie’s Room!” scrawled on a banner on the door making it painfully easy).

The door creaked slightly when you pushed it open. You were immediately hit with the vague sent of pine and mahogany. Dirty flannels and socks were piled in a corner or sometimes littered around the room. An empty ramen cup sat on her nightstand. Notebooks and textbooks filled with complex calculations sat open on her book. Her blankets were peeled back, revealing astronaut bedsheets. “Cute,” you thought.

The cracked open window let in a nice breeze. The light blue walls were littered in posters, photos, and banners. Next to a lesbian flag above her bed were photos of her and the two friends she was always with. Plastered around her room were covers of comics, something called Savage Starlight. There were silly math reference posters, Star Wars posters, and just about everything you would never expect from a crime fighting vigilante.

Her laptop was left open, and a few clicks and an easy password guess later, the screen unlocked to Ellie’s web browser. Her search history made your brows furrow. You expected to find “How to buy weed NYC” or “porn” at the very least.

Search: Is there more than one Black Widow?

Search: Natasha Romanoff history

Search: The Red Room

Search: Dreykov The Red Room

Search: Dreykov Russia

Search: Black Widow Assassins

Search: Natasha Romanoff Phone Number

She had been researching you. Hell, she hadn't done a very good job by the looks of it. And did she really think The Black Widow’s phone number was public information?

You grabbed a figurine from Ellie’s desk and toyed with it as you took a moment to think. Was it really worth taking the life of an innocent girl just for the sustenance of your organization? Was it even your organization? It's not like you could remember how you got there. It's not like you remembered your family, or your friends, or what it was like to have them… It wasn't so bad if you didn't really have anything to compare it to, right?

A soft pressure around your ankles made you look down. Silky webbing coated your boots.

“Sit down,” her voice came from near the window. You turned as much of your body as you could and watched as Ellie gestured to her desk chair. With no choice but to oblige, you sat. She webbed your arms to the armrests, not taking any chances.

She spun the chair to face her direction and then leaned back against the window.

“What do you want with me?” She inquired, green eyes searing into yours.

“I told you. My mission is to-”

“No. If you were going to kill me, I’d be dead already.” Good point.

You broke eye contact and looked around her room dramatically. “Cute room. I like the flag.”

“Tell me what you want with me,” she said, stalking closer to your chair. “I’m not asking this time.”

“What happened to the ‘friendly neighbourhood Spider-Woman’ I met? Do you rest all your guests like this?” You quipped.

“Yeah? Well, forgive me if I’m not so friendly to the one who tried to kill me, has been stalking me for weeks, and broke into my apartment.”

You roll your eyes.

Her large hand wraps around your jaw, forcing you to look in her eyes.

“Roll your eyes one more time and see what happens,” she growls. “Now tell me.”

You jerk your jaw away and kick her in the stomach, enough time for you to effectively sever the webs around your wrists and ankles.

“Fuck, I forgot about those,” Ellie says under her breath as she webs her bedroom door completely shut and stands in front of the window to block your exit.

“Move,” you demand.

“Nope.”

“Move. Or this won't end well for either of us.”

“Nah, I think I’ll just stay right here ‘till you tell me what you want with me.”

You charged her, attempting to throw her to the side and leap through the window she entered through, but she's stronger. She's like brick as she pushes you back.

“Just let me go. I’ve made up my mind anyways. I’m done with you.”

“No can do. I’m not in the habit of letting pretty girls who try to kill me go so easily,” she said, and you felt your cheeks heating up. She webbed the window shut and sat down in her bed, gesturing to her desk chair again. “Come on. I just want to know what your people want with me. Then you can go, I promise.”

You knew it wouldn't hurt to tell her. You'd have to go on the run from Dreykov anyways. Rip your tracker out and all. So you sat and watched as she reached into a drawer in her nightstand and pulled out a pack of peanut M&Ms.

“Want some?” She asked as she peeled it open. You shook your head and she shrugged. “More for me, then.”

“What do you want to know?” You asked.

“Start from the beginning.”

You cleared your throat. “I was given the mission to find you and-”

“No. I get that part, I’m not stupid. I want to know how this happened to you. And how I can help you out of it."

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a slash thru your user means i'm unable to tag you!

taglists

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sehodreams · 2 months

Text

a good girl's paradox

TW and Tags: plus size!coworker!reader x coworker!lee tang (he changed his name to Gyeong-su in the episode), mentions of violent acts (stalking, killing, bullying), smut, p in v (with protection), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), suicidal thoughts, trauma, related to the series but it changes the storyline for the fic purposes, unclear descriptions of the place (Busan) because I have no interest into learning more geography for a fic.

WC: 10K

Summary: Everyone goes to that province to hide, and you’re not the exception, but it’s also said that everyone wants to leave, and perhaps, you’re the exception to that.

Comment: Sorry guys I know I have a lot of requests and other drafts waiting, but I love this man so much I couldn’t help it, I started it yesterday and finished it today because I've been having so many problems finishing other fics and decided this was not going to be one of those half done. It's long so there are definitely mistakes, please be kind, again, English is not my first language.

Feeling the ocean breeze mess up with your hair and leave little particles of salt on it, you sat over the bench and watched the sun appear over the horizon. It was incredibly calm, and beautiful, and you inhaled the aroma of the sea in front of you, an aroma your mother used to love when you were younger, always carrying you in her arms to take you there and watch the sunrise together while eating marmalade and butter sandwiches.

You stopped completely going there once she passed away, and everyone knew why you tried to avoid its existence as if it woke up all the melancholic memories you had with her.

The truth was, you always hated it, and you stopped completely going only because you had no reason to do it anymore. You could make your own decisions once she wasn’t around anymore, and your father never cared enough to keep you company even on important events, so for as long as you could, you just didn’t go.

However, now that you saw it in front of you, you did remember some moments with your mother, her smile, and her excited voice telling you to wake up and watch the sun appear.

‘’Fucking sea’’ you said once the sun completely stayed up there, an orange light showering the whole scenery making it even more breathtaking, but still hating it.

You stood up, grabbed the suitcase handle, and walked alongside the sea, trying to catch a cab in that part of the countryside little city, different from Seoul, which was always awake, you saw how only a couple of people were walking around there, and most of them where fishers getting ready for work, or maybe they were coming back, but you, a city girl your whole life, didn’t know.

You found a taxi not much later and telling him where you were going, the driver rolled his window even more, and giving you a good look, he nodded for you to jump in.

‘’It’s not far from here’’ he said, and you nodded, not feeling like talking much with him. ‘’When you leave, don’t let them charge you too much, never pay more than 15 dollars for any cab, and never go to the sea at night.’’

That last sentence caught your attention, sounding like advice but with a hint of uninterest, assuming that you were going to leave one day.

‘’When I leave?’’ you asked.

‘’You’re going to a rented apartment, I know that building, we know everyone here, and you’re a city girl, I can hear it in your voice, all pretty and clear, something happened to you there so you came here to hide, it’s always the same thing, but your kind never like it here enough to stay’’ he answered sure of his statement.

You looked out the window, the sea was blue, pure, immaculate, and the sun wasn’t orange anymore, a clear sky showing the clouds up there, which you could see reflected into the sea.

But it all looked so grey to you, after all, a beautiful thing like that one still killed people every now and then, fishers who tried to make a living, tourists curious of what was deep inside, or simply people who tried to refresh themselves with the cool temperature of it in the summer, so you nodded.

It was beautiful, a dream, but you would never fall in love with it, if you never did it before even with the memories of your childhood, why would you do it now?

‘’Thank you’’ you said, agreeing with him.

You’d never like it enough to stay.

Still, you kind of appreciated his words after living there for almost a month.

Something you never forgot was how that driver, only with that short conversation, helped you so much, because it was true, you never had to pay more than 15 bucks for any cab, and every time the drivers tried to take advantage of you because of your accent, you only had to spit a short fuck off before they called you a bitch and accepted your bills before driving away.

At first, it was hard, you had never cursed in front of another person and you felt almost sick whenever you did it, but after deciding no one knew you there enough to have the right to judge you, or reminding yourself to just say what went through your mind to not punish yourself later with an I should’ve done something different, you started to feel better with your life there.

Also, he had been right about city people hiding there.

There weren’t many, but they were there, and it was incredibly easy to recognize them.

Apart from the dialect, which was pretty much obvious, there was just something about them that screamed I’m not from here that you always noticed.

Perhaps it was the way most of you were programmed to be colder than most of the countryside people, always being respectful and polite, but always lacking that warmness they had, most of them treating each other like friends or family, while all of you were from the exterior, uninvited guests that one day would leave, and knowing your place, all of you said thank you, hello and goodbye without smiling or eye contact.

It wasn’t that bad for you thought, you had already told yourself to not be involved with people at all if it wasn’t necessary to avoid useless problems, but again, you were only a girl, and Gyeong-ah was just a girl too, and girls, as much as you tried to deny it, feel easily alone.

You met while buying groceries, and you knew immediately she was from Seoul because instead of choosing the detergent almost all the residents there bought, which had a powerful, almost heavy aroma of flowers to mask the sea smell, she chose the softer version without aroma that most girls that lived alone in Seol used to not mess with your perfumes.

You didn’t wear perfume, you never liked it, but you recognized the brand as if it was general knowledge taught at school.

‘’You’re from Seoul’’ you said before you could think it, and it wasn’t a question at all, it was a fact that she, when she heard it, couldn’t even deny because she recognized you too.

‘’You too’’ she said, and suddenly you had a friend.

Just as city girls, you two knew how to talk to each other, never crossing lines and being as cordial as you could, wanting to know but never digging too deep unless you were sure the other deserved to know delicate information about yourselves.

In a month you became best friends, and you started to like to live there, the grey color the area had wasn’t as grey anymore, taking a brighter variation now, almost becoming white, as white as her ceilings, or as the smile she sometimes showed you.

Both of you had really white teeth from performing as perfect city girls before arriving there, religiously visiting the dentist to get expensive treatments at least twice a year and using the famous toothpaste that girl group promoted on TV between music shows, with the phrase ‘’a pretty smile is a pretty heart’’ pushing half the population to buy it, effective, an incredibly overpriced.

Both of you stopped using it, but you respected how it still showed its results.

‘’The supermarket is opening a new position as a cashier, you could come if you want, you receive discounts as an employee’’ she said to the air when you were rambling about almost not having enough savings.

Even if it was the countryside and rent wasn’t even half of what you paid before, with everything you spent after unsuccessfully trying to fit the beauty standards when you lived there, your savings weren’t enough to live unemployed for too much time.

Next week you, instead of waking up to take a little walk before breakfast, now got ready to go to work and be a useful human being to society again.

And with that, both of you took a step further into your friendship, being able to reveal, after drinking a couple of beers, why you escaped from the city.

Gyeong-ah told you everything, from the pretty sequence of how she and her boyfriend met, to then what he did to hurt her, and how she suffered until she had to go through all those surgeries before she moved to Busan.

You told her everything too, how your boss pushed his hand under your skirt, how you reported it and how everyone looked at you as if you were crazy, ‘’She’s the one that reported the sexual assault case? She should be grateful anyone wanted to fuck her’’, and how, being completely alone, you were bullied until you had to quit.

‘’I was the first place in my class’’ she said.

‘’I closed the best deal the company ever had’’ you said.

Both of you cried until you fell slept together on her bed, and only woke up because both of you had to get ready for work.

It didn’t take long for you to get used to your new job, you were already a seller before arriving there, you knew how to talk to people and how to fake a good smile, charming customers into buying products they didn’t need and quickly gaining the manager approbation, because, after all, as everyone said, you were a good girl.

Sadly, Gyeong-ah didn’t have the same luck, and you understood her, she studied to do something different with her life, and you did it too, but she was younger and never had to learn how to make people love her before because she was incredibly gorgeous, but now that beauty wasn’t as useful anymore, and not knowing how to pretend as much as you, she couldn’t gain the appreciation you did, getting more scolds than praises.

It was on one occasion that her inexperience got her into a big argument with a client, and sadly you saw the first crack of your friendship appear.

That client was demanding a refund for a product without the receipt, and you wanted to run to her and repeat how you also couldn’t find the purchase on the system, but that woman was screaming so bad you got flashbacks of your boss’s wife screaming at you to take back the complaint, how her husband would never touch a disgusting pig like you (calling you that when she was as fat, to not say more, than you), and how you should just ruin your own life if you wanted to ruin someone’s.

She had the same voice tone, and even looked exactly like her, with dark red lipstick, a failed perm and all those cheap accessories, she was her spitting image.

You couldn’t move, watching the situation happen from afar, feet stuck to the floor and hands shaking, you repeated inside your mind to go and help her, to take her side, but you couldn’t, and making eye contact with one of the boys from the fish section when he walked in front of you, you closed your eyes to ignore the situation and not feel as pathetic as you did.

Later, when your break came, you went out to breathe as much air as you could, and trying to erase the memory of the past moment from your mind, you tried to think what could you do to apologize to Gyeong-ah.

Out there, between a couple of cars, in the middle of the immense parking lot, you tried to hide so no one saw you spiraling into a thousand thoughts, and there, almost breaking down, you stopped yourself from doing it when you saw the guy from before talking to that woman.

It looked as if she wanted to discuss with him too. He was beside her car, and she started to get closer to him while talking, you couldn’t hear it, but you saw her mouth moving as fast as before.

You were about to get closer to hear them, but you stopped once you saw a disgusting string of saliva being spit on the concrete by him.

It was so long and thick that you didn’t doubt it was a consequence of all those cigarettes he smoked every day.

You didn’t smoke, but Gyeong-ah did, and sometimes the smoke got impregnated in your clothes, so you could easily identify the Marlboro smell of the pack the two of them chose all the time, but he, unlike Gyeong-ah, had a smell a lot stronger.

Your thoughts were left aside once you saw the woman moving around nervous and he trying to take her phone. What the hell, you thought, and you were about to intervene when the woman jumped into her car and drove away.

Making eye contact with him again, he watched you for a couple of seconds before he turned around and completely ignored you, continuing to smoke his cigarette in peace.

‘’I don’t have time for this’’, you whispered to yourself and walked inside to talk with Gyeong-ah and not overthink anymore.

The first crack wasn’t deep, she said she understood it, and you hugged before finishing your shift and going back home to drink and badmouth that terrible woman, especially you, not thinking much of the woman from the supermarket, but of your boss’s wife.

She laughed while hearing all the insults you had about her appearance, going to sleep with a smile on her face and telling you that she would understand if the situation happened again because it wasn’t your fault, or hers, it was theirs for not understanding you two.

Little cracks continued to appear on the frame of your friendship, but it was still solid enough to survive everything.

At least, until Sangnim appeared, and completely smashed it to leave no trace of it.

That fucking bastard, as you used to call him, ruined everything with his existence.

The minute you saw him you knew something was off with him, you couldn’t help but notice small details when the two of them gave you a lift home, sensing the aroma of a perfume you used to smell a lot in Seoul inside his car, it was impossible Gyeong-ah was the only woman riding it, and you tried to slip a question without looking suspicious.

‘’Sangmin-ah, do you have sisters? I can’t believe how much you understand my Gyeong-ah’’ you said with a smile.

He made eye contact with you through the mirror and showed you a wide grin.

‘’I don’t have any sisters, but you’re so sweet, I really try to take care of Gyeong-ah as much as I can, she deserves it’’ he answered immediately.

‘’You’re right, she deserves it’’ you repeated, still smiling.

Shut the fuck off, you contained yourself from saying that out loud, nodding and looking around to find any other clue.

You couldn’t find anything, but he was definitely a cheater, and you, not having any solid proof, didn’t know how to break the news, so you pretended to not know anything to find the correct moment to say it.

Still, you left little comments every now and then, not blaming him, but leaving a trail of doubts around, doubts that sadly were never enough for Gyong-ah, fracturing too much your relationship.

You even thought that maybe you were exaggerating too, maybe deep inside you just tried to find a reason for her to end things with him, he was never going to stay, he said it before when you three had dinner, he’d go back to Seoul next year, and contrary to all predictions, thanks to your friendship, you liked it here enough to stay.

The future wasn’t bright at all, but it was enough for you, maybe in a couple of years you could escalate to a better position, you’d get benefits, you would walk around the beach every Sunday morning, and then you’d go and have breakfast with Gyeong-ah.

You had to apologize, for the sake of your friendship.

However, you didn’t have to, or more than that, you could never do it, because three days later Gyeong-ah passed away.

Waking up in your free day, you sent her a text to ask for an hour of her time to talk, but she didn’t answer in fifteen minutes, and you just knew something was wrong.

Taking a cab to her house, you saw the ashes all around, and how her room was the one who started it.

‘’It seems the oven was on’’ you heard one firefighter say.

Dropping to your knees, you denied it, because she always checked everything at least three times before going to sleep, it didn’t matter how drunk she was, she would check the door, the kitchen, and would unplug her phone charger from the wall.

‘’I saw on the news that chargers can get on fire’’ she said, and you laughed in her face because that only happened once every thousand times, ‘’Well, with my luck, I could be that one time.’’

‘’Shut up’’ you said while knocking three times on her wooden headboard.

It had to be him, it had to be him, it’s the only answer, she would never do it, she wouldn’t let her oven on in a million times, they didn’t know her like you did, and sadly, soon no one would remember her like you did.

Calling her mother was the hardest part, you couldn’t remember how the hug of a mother felt in real life, and when she wrapped you into her arms, you broke down with her, because even if you didn’t know her, Gyeong-ah had been telling her about you, always finishing the calls with the same sentence, ‘’Don’t worry mom, my friend’s is taking care of me here.’’

‘’I’m so sorry, I should’ve taken more care of her, I’m so sorry’’ you repeated in her arms, and her mother denied it, saying how that wasn’t your fault at all, but you felt as it was, because you could've stopped her from seeing him, you should’ve stopped her the minute you figured him out.

You didn’t, and it didn’t matter how many nights passed, you couldn’t sleep with the guilt consuming you.

Looking at the beach at night one day, not being able to sleep again, you remembered how the first day you arrived you were told to never go to the sea at night, and right there, you understood why that driver told you that.

For the first time ever, you thought that maybe, maybe, you should just get lost in it, like the fishers, like the tourists, like the innocents.

You weren’t none of them, none of them deserved it, but you were convinced you did.

And you were about to go meet her, until you realized that, there, on earth, you could continue taking care of her, because even if she wasn’t there with you anymore, you could do what was necessary to make Sangmin pay for what he did.

You wouldn’t survive another I should’ve, so you would do it, you would do what was necessary, and nothing would stop you.

Finding Sangmin’s information wasn’t hard, you just had to do a couple of clicks on the internet, and you had everything you could need.

If only you had done that before, but you refused to go back into social media, all your profiles were flooded with hate comments from people you used to work with, or your boss’s family, or people who didn’t know anything at all but felt the right to talk about your body, and she had also deleted all kind of social media for a similar reason, so none of you knew how he was about to get married, and how you had been right about the smell of her fiance's perfume and all the little comments you had left around.

It was simply impossible how they met was a coincidence, getting sex extorted just like Gyeong-ah? He knew how to get close to her and break down her walls, he planned everything, and finally, you had no doubt about doing something.

You planned to wait for him out of his job, you wanted to do it quick and easy, and no one would suspect you, you looked like a good girl, you were a good girl, you were one until he appeared and stole the little family you had, he stole your whole life, and you would do it too.

With a knife in hand, you waited for him to get out of work, and you thought that he would drive his car, but he didn’t, so you followed him down the dark street to an unknown place.

Gripping onto your weapon, you felt your heart punching your ribcage, nervous as never before.

I can do it, I can do it, you repeated inside your mind, trying to convince you again.

But you couldn’t, and entering an alley, letting him go, you started to cry while hugging your knees, apologizing to Gyeong-ah for not being able to do anything for her.

You felt a cold sensation touch your nape and you jumped away from it surprised, looking up at the sky night and watching the guy from work you never liked.

‘’Drink this’’ he pushed the water bottle to your face, almost obliging you to take it, and your heart started to beat again, knowing he had seen what you tried to do, knife on the floor easily to differentiate even in the dark.

‘’Gyeong… Su?’’ you tried to remember his name.

‘’Go home, sleep, and tomorrow go to work, the manager keeps calling you and leaving messages, your position is still yours’’ he said, almost immediately walking away, but you stopped him gripping his jeans.

‘’You saw me’’ you affirmed,

‘’I did’’ he didn’t try to lie.

‘’Don’t you think I’m bad? I tried to do something really bad.’’

Your voice almost broke, and your hand on his jeans was trembling.

He looked down at you, maintaining eye contact and scanning you, and you felt as if he was inside your mind, finding exactly what he wanted to know.

‘’You’re not bad’’, he said after a long silence.

‘’You don’t know me’’, you replied as soon as he finished talking.

He shrugged and pulling apart from your grip, he talked one last time before leaving, ‘’That’s true.’’

Completely alone there, you cried again until you felt satisfied, and looking up to the dark clear sky, you apologized one last time to Gyeong-ah, and to your mom, and to you, and after drinking the whole bottle of water, you walked to the beach, burring the knife into a hole in the sand you dug with your own hands, to then go home, take a shower, and sleep.

The next day you had to go to work, and you needed to sleep at least a couple of hours.

When you arrived at work the next day you told yourself to completely ignore Gyeong-su, not wanting to talk with someone who had seen you in such deplorable moments like the ones you had.

However, again, you were just a girl, and not having anyone around you anymore, he was the closest thing to intimacy you had.

The relationship you had wasn’t deep enough to be called a friendship, he rarely talked about himself, only keeping you company when he smoked a cigarette in his break and when his turn finished.

You can’t remember how you started to get closer to him, you just remember seeing him smoke near the plastic table behind the supermarket, near the entrance in which all trucks left the daily order of products, and sitting next to him in silence, missing the smell of the Marlboro Gyeong-ah used to smoke.

Somehow, it brought you a calm feeling, and your mind stopped thinking, becoming a blank sheet that didn’t need to be filled with anything, not memories of her, or your past life in Seoul, or Sangmin, only breathing and watching the ugly metallic green bars that surrounded the place as if it was a prison, separating it from the outside world.

He didn’t mind you staying there, and days after days, you started to notice his presence around more often inside the supermarket, and the little behaviors he had.

‘’A man of few words’’, you called him when he didn’t answer your question if he was from Seoul too, thing he never acknowledged, but it was too obvious.

He didn’t have the province dialect, he had a soft way of slurring words whenever the manager or his superior in the fish section made him questions, like most boys in the city did, especially those who worked as part-timers in convenience stores, a polite but tired tone, and you were sure he had received some kind of superior education because when you carried a copy of Justice written by Michael Sandel, he followed it with his eyes until you pushed it inside your bag.

‘’Those who insist that only bleeding wounds should count believe that post-traumatic stress reflects a weakness of character unworthy of honor. Those who believe that psychological wounds should qualify argue that veterans suffering long-term trauma and severe depression have sacrificed for their country as surely, and as honorably, as those who’ve lost a limb’’ you quoted the next day while he lighted his second cigarette and seemed more relaxed next to you.

‘’I’m too dumb for that’’ was the only thing he said before exhaling a long line of smoke.

You don’t know why, but after hearing him so sure while saying that, and after such a long time, you were able to laugh again.

Things were slightly getting better after two months, you could sleep at least four hours now, and you were doing things again, not only staring at your TV when you arrived home. You opened old books she had left at your house, cleaned your place more, and ate proper meals, and you still cried, but at least you were able to smile when you saw pictures of her in your phone.

Still, there were moments in which you crumbled, and one of them was when you heard what happened to Sangmin a long time ago, only a couple days after you tried to do… that.

You heard it from one of the clients, how weird things were happening, first the death of a former worker there in the supermarket, and then the death of her boyfriend, and how now there were other two girls dead.

‘’This never happened before those people started to move here’’ her companion, another elderly woman said, and of course they referred to the people like you, people that weren’t born or grew up there, but you couldn’t help but only think in what you had heard about Sangmin.

Sangmin was dead, and what should’ve brought you joy for fair karma, instead made you hide in the warehouse, crying and spiraling into your thoughts about Gyeong-ah, and how you didn’t even make an effort to make sure she got her real justice, cleaning her name from everyone’s mouths.

‘’What’s going on?’’ you heard Gyeong-su’s voice come from behind the shelf you were leaning to.

‘’He-He’s dead’’ you answered, you didn’t need much to think of how to phrase it, he knew who you were referring to.

‘’Isn’t that what you wanted?’’ he asked you.

You stayed silent, muffled cries hiding in your knees.

‘’I don’t know, but I’m hurting so much, and all I keep thinking about is how Gyeong-ah must have suffered more than me when she left this place, and how I’ll never be able to know if he received what he deserved, even more, how because of that I’ll never be able to clean her name, and now no one will remember her as clearly as I do’’ you then confessed.

Feeling like a sinner telling a priest all of her secrets, you felt as if something had left your chest free, your mind finally was out there, formed into words and tears, and you didn’t see his face, but that let you speak your mind even more free.

‘’I see’’ he murmured, ‘’and you’ve thought that all this time, I guess.’’

‘’Yes,’’ everything was out, your tears sliding down your cheeks and your body lighter, almost numb.

‘’Well, you shouldn’t compare your pain, or hers, or his, each of you went through things none of you three know, she doesn’t know how you’re mourning her death, you don’t know how she suffered the process of it, and none of you know how he suffered his, those are things none of you will ever know, so it’s okay if you hurt, but you don’t have to think much into what he deserved, because you’ll never have an answer, and you shouldn’t condition what you feel into an answer you’ll never receive.’’

You sniffed your tears, looking at the packages of toilet paper in front of you, wishing you could take one to clean your face.

‘’And I do remember her, not as clearly as you do, of course, no one will, she was your friend, but I remember she liked to buy fresh tuna every Friday to eat with you, she always had a blank face when the manager scolded her or when she talked to rude clients, and she would rarely smile, but with you, she would do it in front of others sometimes.’’

You exhaled.

That was exactly her, she liked tuna when you hated it, and you picked on her for having an old man's taste buds, you preferred chicken over it, but you let her win every time one of you had to choose, and yeah, she did stare blankly at others, including you, but if it was a good day, she would smiled at you with those white pearls she had inside her mouth.

Feeling as if some heavy weight was lifted from your shoulders, you exhaled and let your head fall to the shelf you were leaning into.

‘’You two were the city pair’’ he finished, making you laugh.

‘’You’re also a city boy’’ you said, and he coughed, ‘’and you’re a liar, you said you were dumb.’’

‘’I am, I never understood that book’’ he said before grabbing the box between you two, lifting it, and going out, leaving you there alone.

You felt as if finally, you had taken a step in the right direction, moving from your position, you cleaned your tears with the ugly blue vest, too hard for your cheeks, and waking you up with the pain.

A week later another girl died, and your boss had to organize a meeting.

‘’It seems the current situation is getting dangerous, especially for young girls, so the superiors have ordered all the women to leave while the sun is still up’’ he said, and you don’t know if it was because of an empathy people from where you grew up didn’t have, but you got surprised when none of the men argued with it, everyone nodding in unison.

You had permission to leave early, so you did it, not being able to share Gyeong-su’s company when your turn finished, only seeing each other in the first break.

‘’You’ll miss me’’ you said the first day, and he never made any sound to acknowledge your silly jokes, but this time he let a soft snicker, almost imperceptible, that made you smile too.

You tried to always do what you were told to, so you left before the sun went down, but that day you were in charge of counting merchandise in the warehouse, so you didn’t see how late it was until you checked your phone.

It was even later than the time for everyone to leave, so you quickly grabbed your things, said good night to your male coworkers, and left.

You tried to not get paranoid with the news, they specified that the killer only directed its attention to pretty girls, loving long legs and soft features.

Gyeong-ah and Sangmin cases were mentioned every now and then to repeat how dangerous things were getting, but they were never related to the girl’s deaths, being two different situations.

That’s why, you tried to convince yourself you would be okay, you didn’t share any of the characteristics the killer loved in their victims, and he supermarket wasn’t far from your house, but you didn’t dare to walk alone anymore between all the buildings, so you waited for a cab to appear and take you home.

You made sure to always be careful when you were alone, yes you took cabs, but you always had a pen on your hand and your phone ready to call 119 in the other, checking the routes and if the driver looked at you too much.

Everything was okay, you were already relaxed when you saw your building in front of you, so you shoved your things in your bag, pulled out the bill, and paid, walking home with an easy mind.

You never thought you would get snatched right next to your door.

With a hand on your mouth and the other on your tummy, you felt how you were dragged into the alley next to your building, darkness surrounding you while you felt a disgusting presence behind you.

The one who pulled you in was a man, taller than you, with big hands and an erection already ready to make your worst nightmare real.

You started to cry, muffled by his gloved hand, you couldn’t say anything when you heard his voice calling you sweet treat, ordering you to be silent if you didn’t want things to get ugly.

Begging Gyeong-ah, your mother, and God to send you help, you nodded when he said he would let you go if you were good.

‘’Promise?’’ he murmured.

‘’Promise’’ you agreed, closing your eyes and letting his hand cup your pussy with force, not making a single sound, only trembling with tears running down your cheeks.

He pushed your face to the wall and made you show him your bubbly ass, touching it as much as he wanted without an ounce of shame.

You thought this is it, my karma, repeating inside your head how this was your punishment for all the things you should and shouldn’t have done.

The man couldn’t even open the button of your jeans before you heard a loud bang and his body fell to the floor.

Staying in your position, you pressed your face to your hands and didn’t dare to turn around to see what was making all that noise, it was metallic, and it didn’t stop even when the man didn��t make a single noise anymore.

When things got silent, you, still trembling, turned your head to see what, or who stopped the man.

You never expected to see Gyeong-su covered in black clothes from head to toe, paint all over the floor, covering the man's body and face, and the can totally smashed and tossed to the side.

‘’Uh?’’ was the only thing that came out of your mouth.

‘’I knew he was going to come for you, this sick bastard’’ he said.

You didn’t understand why he thought that, and watching your white sneakers get ruined with the blood and the red paint, you started to cry even more, still in silence.

‘’It’s okay, you’re okay’’ he said, giving you your messed bag and, once again, leaving you alone.

You called the police, the number still there on your screen ready to only press the green button, and when you did it, you said your direction as clearly as you could.

‘’Did you see who did it?’’ one of the officers asked you, and you stayed silent for a good minute before answering.

‘’I didn’t’’ then you said.

The two cops keeping you company looked at each other and then the one writing things down nodded.

‘’I see’’ was the only thing he said before leaving you alone.

You didn’t have much to do, the man was dead, and now nothing could be done.

Was that justice? You thought.

They immediately recognized him as the killer, he had a patron, pretty girls who lived alone, and all the bodies showed the same signs of abuse before dying.

Perhaps he had lied to all of them, and he had lied to you, convincing you that if you did no sound you would live, but you’d have died just like them at the end.

But did he deserve to die? Just like Sangmin, wasn’t there another way to get justice for your pain? For yours, Gyeong-ah’s, and all those girls’.

Still, what you knew was that, even if it was contrary to all your values, knowing how valuable life was, Gyeong-su didn’t deserve any punishment, he had saved you, and justice for you, was that he continued free out there.

The next day before you went to work, you saw rests of the red paint still over the cement, thin layers already dry after so many hours, cracked with the breeze of the sea, and you thought how, if Gyeong-su hadn’t saved you yesterday, what anyone else would have seen in daylight was your cold body lying out there.

All your coworkers hugged you when you arrived, and your manager told you to take the day off if you needed, but you couldn’t go back home or you’d start to overthink things again, if what you did was the correct thing to do, if he deserved to die like that, if you were a killer too, taking into account how you saved Gyeong-su’s secret.

When the first break came you walked out to the plastic table, but Gyeong-su wasn’t there, and hugging your coat, you sat to wait for him, but he didn’t come.

He avoided you for days, and you thought the pseudo-friendship you had was over, until a detective arrived and started to make questions about what had happened to you that day.

‘’You really didn’t see who did it?’’ he asked, and you denied again, already used to say that lie as if it was an unchanging truth, ‘’Do you mind if I walk around here a little bit?’’

You didn’t have a reason to say no, but your eyes caught how Gyeong-su opened the curtain separating the counter from the freezer where all the fish waited to be cut and packed to be sold, and how he immediately took a step back, not letting himself be seen.

You don’t know why, but you knew Gyeong-su didn’t want that detective to see him.

‘’I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to see any more cops lurking around, he’s dead, and looking at you only brings me back the bad memories of that night’’ you didn’t know why you said something like that, it didn’t make any sense, all the older ladies loved to see the cops near, feeling a lot safer, but you didn’t know what else to say to make them leave.

His younger companion frowned and was about to say something before the detective stopped him and nodded, leaving you his card and telling you to call him in case you ever needed help or remembered something.

You didn’t answer, shoving it into one of the numerous pockets your vest had, and turned your back to continue writing down the stock you were counting.

‘’Ugly girls should learn how to talk prettily at least’’ you heard the younger say.

‘’Shut up, she’s a victim, she doesn’t have to entertain you with pretty words’’ the older quickly replied, ‘’and you don’t know what you’re saying, her face is very pretty.’’

Jand Nam-gam, you read in the card he left you.

He seemed like the kind of person who was only respected by the people who were near him, used to receive no as answers, and a bit blunt and unsophisticated, from the city, just like you, but without the calm and respectable vibe a detective from there usually had, and too honest and correct to survive there for long.

When you went out for your break a couple of hours later you saw Gyeong-su sitting on the table, smoking and waiting for you.

You sat next to him and for the first time, you showed him your palm, asking for a cigarette too.

Without looking at you, he gave you the one he was smoking, still new and ready for you to take it.

Your fingers brushed his when he gave it to you, and you tried to not think much about it, but you always thought too much, so to shut your mind up, you inhaled the cancer stick and held it as long as you could, slowly letting the grey cloud appear in front of your face.

The city had the same grey color it used to have before Gyeong-ah, and you weren’t sure how long you could stay there.

Your imagination wasn’t filled with a future there, you didn’t want to walk around the beach anymore, you had no one eating breakfast with you in your head, and you were afraid every time your turn finished and you had to go back home, running the few steps to open your building door, and only feeling safe once you checked that your oven was off and you put a chair behind your secured door.

‘’I didn’t ask for your help’’ he then said.

‘’Me neither’’ you answered.

He nodded, still looking at the metallic bars surrounding you.

‘’How did you know I didn’t want him to see me’’ he asked, breathing the air and pushing his hands inside his apron pockets.

‘’How did you know he was going to come for me’’ you asked back.

He shrugged like every time you asked him anything he couldn’t ignore.

‘’I just knew he would come for you, after all, they said he followed pretty girls.’’

It felt completely different from when the detective said it, and you bit the inside of your cheek, feeling a warm sensation reach your cold hands.

‘’I just knew it too’’ you said, tossing the rest of the stick to the floor.

It tasted like shit, and you couldn’t understand how he and Gyeong-ah smoked it every day.

‘’I won’t come to work tomorrow.’’

You felt incredibly alone again, you knew he meant that he wouldn’t come back, he would, again, leave you there on your own.

‘’Can you walk me home today? I’m afraid of going on my own.’’

He knew why you asked him that, a goodbye, a farewell, so he nodded and told you to wait for him at the front door.

Your turn finished and then you were waiting for him right where he had told you, a good girl following his words exactly like he wanted.

You stayed there, hands playing with the leather strap of your bag, the bag you used when you lived in Seoul, too noisy in the province, reason why you preferred to go around with your canvas tote bag, a lot more discreet and common, but that one had been ruined with the red paint that day, and just like your white sneakers, you had to toss it away.

When he appeared he nodded at you, indicating you with a tilt of his head to lead the way.

You two walked on silent, you couldn’t make any question or comment or silly joke, and it was obvious, by the grip on your bag, that you were nervous.

He noticed it, and pulling out his hand from the pocket of his bomber jacket, he grabbed your left hand and held it all the way to your house.

You felt incredibly calm, thinking how you shouldn’t because you knew, deep down, that he was dangerous. It was impossible, by the fear of facing the detective, that he hadn’t killed more people, and it was clear he was being followed.

That makes sense, you thought, if you weren’t sent to that province because of work, like Sangmin, you were hiding, and he was just like Gyeong-ah and you, escaping from things that had happened in the past, or perhaps, things that were still happening now.

But you hadn’t felt so safe in so long, because you knew that, with him, nothing would snatch you next to your house, and that no one would be able to enter your house, or that your oven was never going to magically explode.

With him by your side everything was okay, you were okay, and that was enough to make all those preoccupations disappear.

When you got to your entrance you let his hand go to open the principal door with your key, and he was behind you, observing you, you could feel his eyes on the back of your head, but when you turned to him, he let his eyes fall to the floor.

‘’Do you want to drink some coffee?’’ you asked, and he nodded, following you inside and walking up the stairs until you got to your little apartment.

It wasn’t amazing, but it was yours. You didn’t have an elevator, and you always had to go up to the fifth floor to let your clothes dry with a big basket, but it was okay, you liked your building, your neighbors were quiet, and you felt safe and sound there. Until that happened.

Inside your room you let him close the door for you, and you didn’t feel the need to immediately put the secure on, leaving your coat on the hanger instead, and taking off your shoes, you walked to your little kitchen, putting water in an electric kettle to boil it.

You could cook in your kitchen, but you never used the oven, and you preferred the electric kettle over the traditional one because once the water was done, it would automatically turn off.

Then you sat on the floor, leaving two cups, sugar and coffee over the little wooden table you had, and turning on the TV, you looked at him in the eyes until he sat beside you on the floor.

He was wearing an ugly grey sweater that kind of smelled like fish, mascaraed with what you identified as the cheap deodorant you sold in the store, but you were used to the fish smell he had, so you didn’t mind.

‘’Do you mind if I take a shower?’’ He said not much after.

You nodded, the news had just started, and you mindlessly changed the channel to try to find anything interesting.

‘’Sure, there are towels in the cabinet, I’ll get you some clothes, they’re mine, but I’m sure they’ll fit you’’ you said, and he didn’t waste a second to walk to your bathroom.

You gulped while changing the channels, you knew what you were going to do, but you hadn’t done it in so long, you needed a second to recognize what that sensation forming on your abdomen was.

You hadn’t done anything at all, and you felt yourself already getting wet inside your panties.

The click the jug did after the water was done caught your attention and you stood up to get the water, pulling out the cord from the plug, but knowing you had to get him his clothes, you walked to your little closet to find a t-shirt and some pants that could fit him.

He wasn’t buff at all, but he was lean, a normal guy there, not fat, not big, not small, and taller than normal, so you decided to find the biggest clothes you had.

You were choosing when you heard the door open and you felt him walking behind you, hands surrounding your waist and wetting your back with the drops that were still sliding down his chest.

‘’I chose this’’ you said, lifting the clothes so he could see them, feeling his breath touch the side of your neck and his nose brushing your skin.

‘’I’ll wear them later then’’ he answered, pushing you to your closed closet and making you turn to him.

You weren’t that short, but just then you noticed how much taller than you he was. He made you lift your eyes to him with a touch to your hands, taking the clothes from your hands and letting them fall to the floor.

‘’I- I don’t remember much how this was… it’s been years for me’’ you admitted, and he nodded.

‘’It’s been years for me too’’ he said, not as ashamed as you.

With the same hand that tossed the clothes, he made you look at him and accept his mouth over yours, taking the lead in the kiss and erasing all your thoughts.

It felt good, his lips were chapped, and he had the taste of smoke in his mouth, but you didn’t mind, it finally tasted good, and moving your hands to his neck, you let him press his body against yours, the lower half of his body only covered by one of your towels.

He wasn’t hard, but you could feel something poking at the front of your jeans, and you wanted him to lay on your bed, so after a couple of long minutes, and just after he had enough of your mouth, you murmured something.

‘’Let’s go to my bed’’ you begged with hazy eyes and weak legs, leaning onto him, who was holding you with his body against your closet doors.

He nodded, and taking your hand, he guided you there, making you sit and look up to him.

Your lights were on, and you felt nervous, you had never had sex with the lights on, you only had a couple of partners, and they always turned them off before fucking you.

‘’You can turn off the lights if you want’’ you said, looking at him in the eyes.

He didn’t answer, his hand went to your cheek, and he pressed the tips of his fingers over your skin, caressing it and then brushing your wet lips after all his kisses, slightly red and plump thanks to the way his lips covered them.

He didn’t acknowledge what you said, bending down to retake the contact between both mouths.

Full of life, unlike his usual demeanor, eager, he pushed you to your back, making you receive him between your legs.

Slightly harder, you felt the border of his boner only covered by the fabric damp your jeans, but he didn’t stop kissing you, one hand lying on your neck and the other helping him stay still over you to not let all his weight crush you.

You opened your legs as much as you could with the jeans stopping you from going too far.

‘’You know what I’ll do to you’’ he said after a minute.

You nodded.

‘’I won’t stop’’ he warned.

‘’I don’t want you to’’ you answered.

You knew no one was going to save you from that place, it wasn’t his job, so you’d accept this as enough, and you’d let him go without resentment and an I should’ve done it.

‘’Will you be okay?’’ he asked, afraid of hurting you more.

‘’I want this to happen’’ you said, making him look at you, caress your cheek once again, and give you another kiss before his hands went to your button and helped you take your jeans off.

Sliding the clothing off your legs, he pushed your thighs wide open, and feeling the texture of the towel, his now hard cock against your clothed clit made you whimper.

‘’It feels good’’ you said, to what he agreed with you.

‘’It feels good’’ he affirmed.

He did soft movements to stimulate you with his cock, only letting you feel what would soon be inside you.

Looking at your eyes flutter, he pushed up your shirt, showing him your black bra hugging your chest.

Touching the skin uncovered by your cups, he pressed his thumb to see how far it could sink into your skin.

Your chest was bigger than normal, just like your tummy, but he liked it, it looked comforting and soft, perfect for him to rest a little bit, after his exhausting life, it looked like a taste of paradise.

You pushed his hands while taking your shirt off without asking, to then unhook your bra and toss it to the floor.

‘’Touch me properly’’ you said, making him snicker.

You had forgotten how that little grin looked like, and you smiled when it appeared again.

‘’Okay,’’ he replied, unabashedly grabbing both tits and groping them, looking at how the skin flooded his grip between fingers, and feeling good with both sensations, his cock against your cunt, and his hands in your chest, you closed your eyes and moaned, moving your head to your side and cover your mouth with the back of your hand.

He didn’t let you hide yourself for long, making you open your mouth for him and pushing his tongue inside your mouth, obliging you to let the moans out.

Your panties were incredibly wet, and he left one of your tits free to sneak a hand inside them.

Juices gladly receiving him, he groaned when he felt you dripping all over his fingers.

Without asking, just like when you took your shirt, he introduced a finger.

You cried with his mouth over yours.

His finger was long, and it sent a delicious shock to your core, making you frown at how good it felt.

‘’More’’ you begged, and he gladly obliged, pushing one more finger to make scissoring motions and prepare you for him.

‘’Shit, it’s begging for it’’ he groaned when he heard how much your insides were squelching, asking for him to fill you up.

‘’Yes, yes’’ you cried, listening to his nasty approbations telling you how good you’d take him, and how much he couldn’t wait to fill that sweet pussy of yours.

Fucking you with his fingers, you moaned as much as you wanted, not caring to hide anymore, it was your only night with him, so you decided to not hold anything.

His mouth went to your nipple, tits falling to the sides of how heavy they were and shaking with his attention to your cunt.

He licked them, first with just the tip of his tongue, but then let it flat so it covered your buds and made you shake even more.

‘’Su- so good’’ you cried.

His fingers were making you dizzy, and you had to get up on your elbows to see his hand inside your panties moving to make you cum.

It was hard to see yourself like that, so naked, so exposed.

You couldn’t hide the way your tummy rolls were in front of his eyes, the marks on your skin, or the way your big tits didn’t look perfect on your body, but he seemed to not care, even liking it, guiding his mouth to your nipples again and looking into your eyes when he left soft pecks over them.

‘’You’re going to cum for me, right?’’ he murmured when you started to clench over him.

‘’I-I don’t know’’ you cried, never having an orgasm with your partners before, you didn’t know if that was an orgasm, or what the hell was it.

‘’You’re going to’’ he didn’t ask, ‘’and it’s because of my fingers, so good’’ he pushed his fingers faster and harder, stretching your panties with how brutal he was.

You couldn’t maintain your position and dropped over your back, crying with your walls pulsating around him.

‘’That’s it, so fucking good, my good girl’’ he said still moving his fingers.

You tried to push his hand away, eyes rolling to the back of your head and tears falling down your cheeks of overstimulation, and he stopped when you left a singular loud cry out, but only to take off your messed underwear and toss the towel wrapping his hips.

He let you take a second to breathe properly again, and pushing up your legs, he made you show him your glossy cunt, lips open and ready for him.

He couldn’t help it, it was all shiny and pretty, he had to taste it a little bit, and sinking to his knees over the floor, he pulled your body to the border of the bed, mouth going directly to your pussy.

Drinking your orgasm, the slurping sound was so nasty you had to put your hands over your face, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

‘’That’s too much’’ you tried to stop him, but he, mouth still stuck to your entrance, and nose poking at your clit, denied with his head, smearing your arousal over his face.

‘’You have no idea all the things I want to do to you’’ he replied, pushing his thumb to your opening, and pressing his tongue over your clit this time.

You cried, hands going to his wet hair and trying to pull him away, but he was stronger than you, and you never had a chance to stop him.

You couldn’t fight him, so you wanted to finish quickly instead, hips jolting to feel him more and grasp that sweet second orgasm you felt coming.

About to call his name, he separated and said something before going back to his work.

‘’Lee Tang’’ he said, and that was enough for you to know what he meant.

That was his name, not Gyeong-su, but Lee Tang, and you thought, that fits him a lot more.

‘’Lee… Tang’’ you said as you could, and then the only thing that came out of your mouth was a ton of Tang, Tang, repeating proudly his real name.

You were so close that you could feel your toes curling, walls ready to let your orgasm free and relax again, and your back was curving, your body needing to cum once again because of him.

But he was so cruel.

He stopped, and getting up his knees, he thumbed your clit, flicking the little button a couple of times before he slid his dick between your lips, making you feel his length resting over you.

‘’Please, I’m so close, please’’ you saw the light of your room above him, watching his dark eyes examine you, searching for another answer in your eyes.

You left a disappointed cry when he, instead of touching, walked away to grab his jacket hung next to yours, and sitting, you saw him pull a little box from his pocket.

So that’s why he made me wait for him outside, you thought, he didn’t want you to see what he was buying.

Opening the film package, you saw him sliding the condom over his member with experience, walking back at you and showing you how it looked, slightly jumping over the air, standing hard and thick, and pushing you to your back again, he pressed his tip on your entrance, making you clench over it, and nodded to your past pleading. ‘’You deserve it’’ he said before pushing his member inside.

He didn’t let you adjust, but you didn’t need it, you just wanted him to keep moving, and soon that soft pace wasn’t enough for you.

‘’Fuck’’ you couldn’t hold the curses in your throat.

It felt so good, the weight of his member inside, pushing the limits of your walls, taking what he wanted from you, it was so good your hands searched for something of him to grip, finding his hands over your hips to maintain you in your place for him.

‘’Tang, so good, please make me cum’’ you cried.

One of his hands interlocked with yours, helping you find comfort between all the intense sensations your insides were feeling.

You looked so good under him, your chubby torse facing him, showing him everything he wanted to see, and your thighs jiggling with each of his thrusts.

You were close, and so was he, but he needed something more, a little thing that had been wandering inside his mind since he started to see you differently.

‘’Can you turn for me?’’ he asked, needing to see your pretty ass taking him.

Not answering, you immediately crawled further in your bed, and searching for your pillow, you hugged it, pressing your face to your bedsheets and showing him your ass without any ounce of shame left.

‘’Fuck me’’ you begged again, opening your lips with your fingers and showing him your entrance gaping around nothing, ‘’Tang, please fuck me.’’

His breath stopped, he had never seen something that bold and hot before, and he admired your needy side calling for him to calm you.

Going to you, he pushed his entire length inside, bottoming out and pushing it inside in a single thrust to see your gorgeous back and thick thighs trembling with his cock.

You were crying and hugging your pillow, shoulders becoming smaller and one of your hands on your back searching for his to hold it again.

Lee Tang, not daring to ignore you, his good girl, like that, held your hand.

‘’You’re the one who wanted me to fuck you, and now you can’t take it?’’ he teased, not liking how much he was spoiling you.

‘’No, I can take it, please don’t stop’’ you implored, feeling his hard and fast thrusts pushing your sanity away.

He didn’t care how weak he was to you, feeling your walls wrapping around him like that was like nothing he had felt before, watching the curves of your waist interrupted with your little fat rolls, your ass bouncing against his pelvis with his strength, taking his cock like a gift, and your hand not letting him go even with how hard he was being with you, was everything he ever needed.

Hearing your sweet moans and cries all out when you came, with your sweet walls fluttering around him, pushed the last string inside him, and he pressed his cock inside you to let everything out in the condom.

‘’Tang-‘’ you gripped his hand harder.

‘’Yes baby, I’m cumming’’ he exhaled, letting all inside you.

‘’Okay’’ you said happy.

He wished he could stay connected to you forever, but he couldn’t, and he had to pull out of you to make sure the condom, and you, were alright.

Going to the bathroom to toss it in the trash, he looked at his reflection in the mirror, not recognizing himself with how relaxed he looked.

Tense all the time, he saw his eyes drowsy, ready to rest the whole night.

You, lying on your side to catch your breath, hoped that he could at least spend this night with you, his last night there, but maybe that was too much to ask.

When he came you didn’t look at him, and he simply accommodated behind you, spooning you with a hand over your tummy, letting his hand land there, and sighed.

‘’Let’s get inside the covers, the night is cold’’ he murmured, and you followed his request.

Under your bedsheets, a lot warmer thanks to the fabric and his skin, your mind started to drift away, so you looked at him one last time before falling asleep, closing your eyes when he left a last kiss over your lips.

When you woke up you were alone, feeling incredibly sore, and sad.

You stood up to drink a glass of water, not thinking much about how lonely you felt, concentrating on what would you do later that day to fill your head.

Would you be able to stay? You doubted it, you had too many memories here, and maybe the driver was right, all of you would leave one day.

You were about to go back to bed when you saw a little note next to your electric kettle.

I’ll come back in three weeks was written, and you closed your eyes, happy to not be abandoned again.

You had to stay so he could find you, that was your home now.

#lee tang #lee tang x reader #a killer paradox #choi wooshik #choi woo shik smut #lee tang smut #kpop smut #kdrama smut #i have no idea what tags to put #why can't i find more fics of this man #plus size reader #chubby reader #choi wooshik smut

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sugaroto · 6 months

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Final round

Jose from Σαββατογεννημένες/Women-Born-on-saturday, is a guy from Uruguay working in a greek tourist shop. He's afraid of babies, he's canonically bi and he works in a night club as his second job. What he really wants is citizenship of a country. He may dislike Greece but if it can give him citizenship, then so be it.

Thiramenes was an Athenian politician. Etc important history. He's known among the teenagers who have ancient greek class mostly for his forced suicide and his last words "This is to the health of the handsome Kritias" as he drunk the conium

Andreas Kalogirou a villain from Πάρα Πέντε/ At the nick of time, a dangerous man and assassin hired by the main villain of the series to kill several people who stand on his way. He has attempted to murder the five protagonists several times with no success. He is referred to as "the man in black". He is usually followed by his friend and partner in crime Nikos Kalathas.

Round four

#someone had asked me to change Andreas' description for the final round #so this is his description now from Wikipedia with a little editing #greek sexyman of Tumblr #gsot #jose #Thiramenes #Andreas Kalogirou #χοσε #σαββατογεννημένες #Γιώργος Καπουτζίδης #Θηραμενης #αρχαία #ανδρέας καλογήρου #στο παρά πέντε #greek sexyman #final round #polls

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jacksprostate · 1 month

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Things I won't forgive the fight club movie for regarding the character of Marla Singer, entry C:

The manic pixie dreamgirlification of her own struggle with life and death. The narrator gets to have a serious issue driving his alienation but Marla gets her cancer removed so her pithy statement about the tragedy of death being that she doesn't fall over dead randomly is just a bit Offbeat And Interesting And Edgy haha! She's a real tourist, really, nothing ever stated to be wrong about her. Sure she overdoses. Sure you can see she's got a shit life. But she doesn't get backstory. She doesn't get a life beyond fun little statements that, when her own reason for saying and thinking them is removed, mostly just reflect the narrator. In the book, it is very, very clear. Marla does what she does because she has cancer and is afraid of The Slow Death. The Wasting. The Struggle. By taking that away you even reduce her suicide attempt. It puts it all in this context of nothingness. Sure, you can assume a depth, but I don't think we should be uncritical about the fact that they chose to remove it. Marla Singer is more than an object that bothers the narrator out of the support groups and gets fucked by Tyler Durden. Marla Singer is a person in her own right in the book, and in the movie she's just... not.

#fight club #the other major beefs are: Marla is the one who intervenes and chases the narrator down so he doesnt shoot himself at the end. she's not a #fucking damsel in distress #it's arguable she 'saves'the narrator #those are two interlocking beefs...#secondly taking away her clarity of the situation and thus her own choices in the entire later half .....#in the movie marla arguably never even knows about the split personality thing!!! he doesnt fucking tell her!!! she just suddenly gets #pushed around by big brave masculine man protecting unknowing victim woman who is stupidly resisting #*vomits*#bro in the book marla is keeping this fucker awake. tracking him thru the night #she slaps him across the face #she makes the KNOWING CHOICE to persue him to the parker morris building #to remove her entire reason for how she acts then also make her entirely passive in the latter half of the movie when she was previously #quite active.....#literally aside from this and the defanging of project mayhem i consider this one of the best adaptations of smth ever #but they really fucking let misogyny ruin a major part of the story #sorry this is incorherent i'm just like #this is legit the only way people come up with those 'marla isnt actually real!!' theories too #because she's totally reduced from her own person into a mirage for the narrator's interest

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cod-z · 2 months

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You know this song? Right? But what happens if-

TW: Semi-Angst/Comfort (depends how you see it)

| One-shots |

What happens if you were in a friendship with Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish, the sunshine of the group in 141, your days being with him has been magical since the day you had met him, when you had been assigned to their Task Force.

Both of you instantly clicking with one another as you both spread the light joy and humour around the group, the two of you being called the power couple by your superiors and friends. Not once has anyone seen you two part from each other, both of you in a close radius plus Ghost from time to time.

Off the base both you and Johnny always hanging out in England and sometimes visiting Scotland because he misses his home and always talks about the amazing myths and stories behind each landscape and ruins that you both find, the endless adventures that you would have and reenact on statues and tourists spots, running and driving around the beautiful countryside of Scotland tasting food, taking pictures, and visiting his family. Johnny and you, both, felt complete and every time you leave to return to your duties both of you wish it had never ended.

So many months passed by and both of you only grew closer to each other, people mistaking you for childhood friends or a couple, both of you casually admitting that you only known each other for a couple of months or that you weren’t dating. Unbeknownst to the fluttering feeling you felt towards Johnny and he the same to you but neither one of you dared to jeopardise your friendship.

That was until a new, temporary female recruit came into the picture.

Being Johnny, he was friendly and welcoming which unfortunately caught the female’s attention. She always manages to drag Johnny away from you, whenever she sees you, she drags Johnny away from the path that lead to you or would make him turn around since he didn’t notice you. It made your heart ache that she captures Johnny’s attention all the time, it felt like you were losing a piece of you, the constant fade in and out of pain would torment you whenever you saw Johnny.

During the time she was there, you and Johnny had gotten distant, not once in your friendship have you ever both felt that way for one another and this girl had somehow made it true. It hurts.

The others saw it, the light fading from you while Johnny kept his.

They try talking to you, that they’ll talk to Johnny or ask you to talk to him but you had waved them off and say everything is fine and that you guys were still friends, that it’ll pass - they didn’t believe you. Your eyes held the many emotions that could be read out loud but they couldn’t intervene if you weren’t willing to allow them.

This is me praying that

This was the very first page

The sound of heavy boots hitting the ground, the heavy panting, the racing heart echoed throughout his mind as he chases after you.

The mission was a high risk, it was basically suicide if you were to board that plane, he wasn’t needed on this mission but you were and he couldn’t let you go. Not after what Ghost and Gaz had told him, how he isolated you, distanced himself from you, always picking the new recruit over you but that wasn’t the case. Not after everything you two had been through together.

He didn’t mean to, he didn’t want to.

Not where the story line ends

He always pushed the recruit away when he was pulled, he always rejected their advances, she was in the way from him reaching you.

My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again

He sees the light, he sees you all geared up and ready to board and leave him, perhaps, forever. He hand reaching towards you, whatever was closest he grabbed onto and pulls you towards him, hugging you close while he muttered and whispered apologies, reasons and explanations.

He begs in your ears to not leave because he heard the risks, he heard the briefing from others, even though they weren’t supposed to tell, he begs for your life as if it were his.

Your shoulders relax while you use one of your arms to hug him, caressing and comforting by rubbing his back, your eyes blanked as you comfort him.

Your mind clouded as you felt your Johnny in your arms again but you had to go, you let him go, your eyes meeting his. Both of your eyes, glassed with tears that threatened to fall, you give a solemn smile, your hand placed on his cheek as you say your goodbyes.

These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon

“I was enchanted to meet you, Johnny,” you lean forward as you wipe a stray tear from his cheek before planting your lips gently, leaving a warmth that Johnny wished he could keep, his arms reaching out to you as you board the plane.

You stop in your tracks before glancing over at him over your shoulder.

“Please don’t be in love with someone else,” you mutter before joining your assigned squad, Johnny’s heart aching at your departure, his own words coming out as a whisper.

“Please don’t have somebody waiting on you.”

A/N: Honestly it was going to be a really, really, angst one but this was playing on my mind all day.

#SoundCloud #cod-z #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #modern warfare x reader #cod fanfic #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny x y/n #soap x reader #soap cod #soap x you #soap x y/n #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x you

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megamindsecretlair · 2 months

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Be My Little Darling - Chapter 12

Chapter 11 Chapter 13

Pairing: Loki x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. ANGST. There's ANGST. Mentions of grief, violence and suicidal ideation (please seek help, it's never a light subject). Soft Loki.

Summary: Loki is the exclusive owner of the hottest club in New Asgard. Dubbed the Nine Realms, each of the nine rooms represent a different realm. You are his second in command, working the floors and ensuring everyone is having fun. An attack on the club affects everyone, you most of all.

Word Count: 4,604k

Masterlist

A/N: See! Not too long between updates! Alsooo, had to rework some things in the outline. I don't think it's going to require all 22 chapters and I like the condensed version. I don't want a story to linger just because I can't say goodbye to it eventually. LOL. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I block ageless blogs!

Taglist: @cantstayawaycani @braverthanthenewworld @monaeesstuff @chaos-4baby @dayjlovesromance @soft-persephone @mybonafidefeelings @nerdieforpedro @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @foxherder @itzgabz22 @iv0rysoap

You and Loki ran towards the screaming. Your heart leapt in your throat. Was there no end to this bullshit? Your headache from earlier only increased tenfold. The shrill, loud screaming grated on your nerves. Working here was becoming a dangerous hazard. Once you found this blasted saboteur, you’d have to worry about people leaving this job.

Responsibilities were starting to stack like those colorful block things Midgard children played with. The blocks would topple soon though. Some errant wind or careless leg would crash into it and bring the whole thing crashing down.

Would you survive it?

The screaming was coming from the Helheim room. Patrons and performers were leaving the room, shrieking with a terror reserved for their worst nightmares. The entrance was surrounded by dark smoke but there were no alarms and the sprinklers weren’t on. Was it a fire?

You took a deep breath but didn’t feel anything burning. You attempted to enter, but Loki held you back. “I don’t like the way this looks,” he said. His calculating sapphire eyes took in the entrance and the people spilling out of it, but you didn’t see two of your performers.

There was still so much screaming. You were not one to ignore it. You constructed two batons in your hands and rushed inside anyway with Loki calling after you.

The smoke was thick. Tangible in a way that let you know that magic was afoot. You called out for the staff members that were assigned to the room at the time. “Sweetie! Baby!”

Yes, you knew the names were stupid. But Loki was terrible with names and it provided an extra layer of mystery for the patrons. Not to mention privacy. There were too many drunk tourists that you had to kick out for trying to get handsy with your wait staff.

“Darling!” Loki called after you. You looked behind you but the smoke was too thick. Too cloying. You breathed it in and it was like sweet fog from a fog machine, except thicker and blacker. The dark decor in the room did little to help. The fog obscured everything. You couldn’t see two inches from your nose.

You coughed around the thick fog, grunting every few minutes as you ran into a table or a chair. You didn’t know how far you traveled into the room or where you were. “Call out!” You yelled.

“Oh gods!”

You turned to the sound. “Call out!” You yelled again. You moved to your right. If you only traveled a few feet in the room, you should be approaching the small bar area. Your stomach crashed into the corner and air whooshed out of you in a painful sigh.

You clutched your stomach and dissolved one of the batons. You checked your stomach by feeling alone. It didn’t seem broken. And nothing cut you, you hoped.

“Darling!” Loki’s voice echoed.

“Loki!” You yelled.

You coughed. The fog in the room seemed to get thicker, crawling into every nook and cranny that you possessed. It went up your nose, down your throat. It burned your eyes. The coughing only got worse as you uselessly searched for your employees.

Flashes of green light turned your attention to the far left side of the room. Whatever Loki was attempting, it did little to combat the fog. However, it was a beacon that you stumbled towards. You held out your hands to try and avoid obstacles or getting hurt in the process.

Screaming from outside of the room was still driving your headache up the wall. Everything hurt. Your heart, your head, your eyeballs. The green light continued to flicker every so often. The more you walked towards it, the more it bobbed away at the last moment.

“Loki!” You called out.

“Darling!” Loki sounded like he was behind you, distant. The flickering green light was in front of you.

The fog must be playing tricks on you. You coughed, trying to clear it from your mouth but the chemical taste remained. “Loki!”

The green light hovered mere feet away. You reached out your hand, prepared to grab a piece of Loki’s suit. An arm or Hel, you’d take a leg at this point. When your hand swiped through the light, Sweetie appeared.

Her eyes glowed green, a twisted visage of anger. You screamed and tripped back, crashing over a chair, and falling into the ground with a painful thud.

“Is this all the attention I’m worth, Loki?” Sweetie asked. Her voice sounded amplified as if she were speaking through the stereo system in the room.

“I leave you clues to know who I am and yet all you concern yourself with is your pet?” Sweetie moved in an angry line, pacing back and forth like a warrior gearing up for a fight with a frost giant.

“Why the games? Why not reveal yourself?” You heard Loki but you didn’t see him.

Another pair of glowing green eyes emerged from the dark fog. Baby. She joined Sweetie as they paced, of one mind and body. Similar to those jerks who attacked the club.

“I want to see the look on your face when you figure it out. Until then, the fun must continue. But I will not be ignored!” Sweetie and Baby spoke in unison. It was creepy. It was wrong.

Pain bloomed up your leg but you had to get up. You had to help. You got to your feet and limped towards your employees. “Sweetie!” You grabbed her hand and shook her, trying to get her attention. She had to still be in there.

Sweetie - or whoever was controlling Sweetie - tilted her head at you. Her hand came up to gently caress your cheek.

“He will break you too,” she said, softly.

“Sweetie, I know you’re in there. Fight it!” You yelled. You shook Sweetie but she remained stiff, strong, and unyielding.

“It’s what he does. And you will help my revenge,” she said. The fuck was that supposed to mean?

You moved around her, heading towards Baby. Either she closed her eyes or the entity left her because the green light went out and you could no longer see. You coughed and spread out your hands, waving your remaining baton. You didn’t want to hit either one, but maybe pain helped.

A strong hand gripped your neck and you screamed, turning to bring your baton down. Thanos emerged from the fog, like a devilish mountain. He grinned, his purple face transforming into a satisfied smirk.

He moved methodically around the space, illuminated by some inner glow to where you could see everything. Icy fear wrapped a bony hand around your heart and squeezed painfully. You stumbled away from Thanos.

Gold glinted off of his gauntlet. The monstrosity was half complete, filled with glowing rocks around the knuckles. “It should have been you,” he said, kindly. Patiently. You hated that most of all about him. The way he spoke as if this was some divine duty he had to perform and not the massacre it was.

You couldn’t breathe. Combined with the thick fog, your head swam. The lack of oxygen made your steps falter. You backed away and couldn’t take your eyes off of Thanos. You tripped over something and fell hard on your ass. You patted the ground around you and clutched fabric.

The lump you tripped over felt like a body. A man by the feel of it. He wasn’t moving or breathing. Thanos continued his slow steps towards you. “It should have been you,” he said.

Tears sprang to your eyes but did little to obscure his face. That terrible face that haunted your every waking moment. Your dreams. Your thoughts. Beside him, a figure emerged.

“No,” you gasped. Your friend, the one Thanos snapped away, stood beside Thanos as if she were his daughter. She leaned her head on his thick, protruding arm.

“It should have been you instead of me,” she said. Her voice was just as you remembered. Clear and loud as a bell. Soft and feminine. She had thick ropes of dark hair, a small elven face, skin like butterscotch. She used to read those silly little pamphlets out loud to you while you walked to the playhouse. Gods, you missed the playhouse. You missed her.

Tears flowed freely now. You had thought of her so often, but her image had started to fade away. Asgard didn’t have those…camera things that Midgard had. There was no way to capture someone’s image except by painting their picture.

Silly commonfolk like you and her didn’t have need for such things. Asgard seemed endless. Like a paradise in the universe. You had forever with her. Forever to live. And it was savagely ripped away.

“It’s time to right that wrong,” Thanos said, bunching up his brow. He was so hideous. Disgusting. Hairless and cruel.

“It’s time for you to die this time,” your best friend, Erian, said. Even thinking her name hurt.

“No, no, no, I’m sorry!” You screamed.

“Darling!” Loki’s voice was a distant buzz that faded too quickly. Your thoughts were wholly on Thanos and Erian walking beside him.

You scooted along the floor. You knew better than to turn your back on an enemy but you flipped over and crawled along the floor. Your tears were a haunting, ugly thing leaking from your eyes. Snot dripped from your nose.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“Look how she cowers. You’re a craven, rotten piece of trash,” Erian said.

“I know,” you whispered. Your fingers gripped the disgusting floor as you pulled yourself towards the direction of the door. There was a faint, pale light there. Your head continued to swim. A painful throbbing made your eyes ache. Your throat burning from your mumblings and apologies and the thick fog.

“Stop this, at once!” Loki’s voice was still too far away. You were alone. Alone.

You would always be alone. You were too stupid, too weak, too desperate to do things right that it only turned out wrong. You couldn’t take care of your siblings. You couldn’t find your family. You couldn’t take care of the club and deduce who the saboteur was. You couldn’t get Loki to admit his feelings. And now Thanos has returned.

How did he find you? How did he know? Could he scent your uselessness across the galaxy? Had he realized his mistake? That he should have taken you and not Erian?

You didn’t know what force propelled you forward. You longed to stop crawling. To let him take you. To let him trade your life for Erian’s. Still you moved forward. Cravens still had a tiny drive for self-preservation. Some ancient, deep knowledge in your bones told you to move forward and escape the danger.

Thanos’ taunting laugh made you shriek with fear. Your heart felt like it was going to shrivel in your chest. You didn’t have enough air to breathe let alone scream out for help. Who in the world would help you?

Loki. Loki would help.

All Loki cared about was himself. He was more interested in owning you, torturing you, than ever seeing you as a true partner. How could you think such a thing? That you were worthy of a god?

You weren’t even worthy of the skin you occupied. “I’m sorry, Im sorry,” you cried.

“Do you think I want your apology?” Erian asked. Her soft voice sounded wrong. Twisted. Cruel.

Sobs wracked your body, making you shiver with fear. You didn’t want to be crushed under Thanos’ thumb. You thought you’d die doing something else. Perhaps in old age or in a fight. Perhaps by your own construct if anyone ever got the better of you. Not like this. Not like this.

Your thoughts were violently pulled back to the day on the ship when Thanos attacked. How his minions showed no mercy. No capability of the sort. Thor tried to fight but after dealing with Hela and Surtur, not to mention the total and complete destruction of your homeworld, he was powerless to stop him.

Thor, the golden Prince who summoned lightning, was powerless. It was laughable if it weren’t so sad. Loki attempted to fight him as well, going so far as to summon a knife to drive into Thanos’ neck. The gauntlet prevented him from doing so and Thanos blasted him against the ship’s hull, knocking him out.

Thanos’ minions separated the rest of your people. You could smell the fear and despair in the air. There was misery and heartbreak aplenty. You clutched Erian’s hand in yours, desperate to stick together.

You watched his minions shove people back and forth but they were paying more attention to the other side. You pushed Erian. You pushed for her to go to the other side so she would be safe. She cried and shook her head. You needed her to survive.

You tried to push your siblings as well but they clung to you instead. You tried to join Erian but there were too many hulking beings in your way. One such creature shoved you back to your side. Without warning, they turned their blasters to the opposite side and began firing.

“No!” Your scream only joined the ones on your side. The lucky ones. You watched Erian crumple into a heap on the floor and you screamed and you screamed and you screamed.

You finally reached the entrance to the Helheim room and crawled out into the hallway. There were others there, lost in some kind of trance. Your staff’s eyes glowed green as they stalked through the halls.

The black smoke spread to the other rooms, invading like a malevolent parasite. People screamed and coughed. Pandemonium raced through the club as muzak played an upbeat song, mocking the current situation.

“Coward,” Erian said.

“Pathetic,” Thanos said.

You were a coward. You were pathetic. You were responsible for your best friend dying. You heard someone calling your name but you were useless. You crawled with no destination in mind as Thanos’ boots thundered behind you.

Didn’t anyone see him? Didn’t anyone hear them? Was that why everyone was screaming? Thanos’ minions must be in the club terrorizing your staff and patrons. No one would ever want to come here again.

A keening whine left you. You cried and cried but there was no one to help. Nothing to do but wait for Thanos to catch up to you and finish what he started on that ship.

Hands gripped your arms and tried to pull. You still had no air to scream. You fought whoever it was, fought to get away. If it was Erian, you didn’t want to go with her. She was free now. She could escape.

“Darling, Darling,” you heard.

You were flipped over. Loki’s face swam in your eyes and you reeled away from him. “Loki, look out!” You yelled. Thanos hovered behind him. Thanos approached and smiled, bringing his gauntlet across his chest.

“No! No! No! Not him! Take me!” You yelled with a raw, singed throat. You fought with Loki, fought to climb to your knees.

“Darling, gods,” Loki breathed. He tried to hug you or press you to his chest. You fought him. You fought him with what little remaining strength you had left.

“Take me! Take me! Take me!” You said, over and over. A prayer to the ancestors in Valhalla. You could not enter like this. Not dying feebly on the ground unwilling to protect yourself. You didn’t care. You’d spend eternity in Hel if it meant that Loki was alive and safe and whole.

One of the stones on his gauntlet glowed a bright purple. Your head felt like it was being squeezed like a watermelon. You yelled, voice rough from overuse and passed out to the sound of Loki calling your name.

Sound was the first to reach you. Soft murmuring that sounded like prayer roused you and you turned to the sound. If this was Hel, it was awfully cold. You made a noise.

Gods, you hurt. All over. Your fingers especially.

“Darling,” you heard.

Your mouth was dry. You smacked your lips trying to work up some saliva to clear it but it was still too scratchy and raw. “Cold,” you said.

A moment later, a blanket was draped over you. You sighed.

“Darling, open your eyes. Please.”

The only person who called you Darling was Loki. And he was safe on Midgard. If you heard his voice, that must mean he was dragged to Hel with you. Your consciousness swam to the surface, fighting to get to him.

“Safe,” you mumbled.

Loki gripped your hand and delicately kissed your fingers one by one. “Please,” he whispered.

You were trying. Your eyes were glued shut. You tried with all of your might and was able to crack one eye open. The crust in your eye pulled your eyelashes painfully but you persisted.

Loki smiled softly. “Thank you, Mother,” he sighed against you. He leaned his head down towards your chest and rested his cheek against you.

“What…”

“Shh, shh, you’re safe,” he said. He lifted his head and scooted closer to you. He looked haggard. Haunted. His eyes were sunken in, ringed in dark purple ridges from lack of sleep. He grasped your hand in his, rubbing his thumb softly against your skin. He leaned down and kissed your thumb.

You searched his eyes. “Hel?” You asked.

He grinned. “No. You’re alive. You’re alive,” he sighed, relief flooding his tone.

You bobbed your head and it swam, roiled. You dry heaved and Loki shushed you, rubbing your hand. He told you not to move, that you were safe and sound in his office.

Tears gathered in your eyes. “Club?”

Loki used his other hand to gently wipe away your tears. “No one’s dead. The club stands. Figures you would be more worried about that than yourself,” he said.

His voice was soothing, working to bring you more and more to the present. You looked down at your combined hands. He was pale and practically shaking.

“Loki?” You rasped.

“You fucking scared me, Darling,” he breathed against your hand.

You licked your lips and groaned at how dry they were. What the hell happened? Sleep tugged at you however, your body too stiff and achy to deal with the present.

“Sleep, Darling. I will be here when you wake,” he said.

“Mkay,” you mumbled. Sleep claiming you once more.

The second time around, you were able to wake up with less difficulty. True to his word, Loki sat on the floor by his couch. His dark hair was disheveled and plastered all over his face. His suit was dusty and chalky as if he walked through plaster.

He rested his cheek against the couch cushion, still holding your hand. This couldn’t have been comfortable for him. You watched him anyway before you woke him up. He looked like he needed sleep.

You wanted to reach out and brush his hair from his face. Even the thought of moving hurt. Gods, you ached.

As if Loki sensed your desire to move, he slowly blinked his eyes open. He smiled when his gaze connected with yours.

“How are you feeling?” Loki asked.

“Like Hel spat me back out,” you croaked.

Loki laughed and kissed your hand. “Everyone is safe. The club is safe,” he said, already knowing the direction of your thoughts.

“What happened?” You asked.

Loki took a deep breath and told you about the fog that induced fear. Whatever you saw, whatever you heard, it was a hallucination. The fog affected everyone. Loki sent them home until further notice. Loki caught the shiver that ran through you at the mention of what you saw. Thanos was just an illusion?

“I won’t ask what you saw. But you kept screaming for them to take you. What did you mean?”

You took a deep breath and rolled your bottom lip between your teeth. “I didn’t want them to take you,” you said softly. You avoided looking at him. Loki scooted closer to you and gently raised your chin to look him in the eye.

“Hallucination or not, you will never, ever, trade your life for mine. Do you understand me?” Loki asked. His voice was gentle but his tone was harsh. His eyes pleaded with you, demanding that you understand him.

“I can’t make that promise,” you said. Tears gathered in your eyes. When it came down to it, you would always choose him. It was stupid and girlish and you really ought to have more self-respect. “I love you too much to ever live without you.”

Loki’s eyes widened a fraction. His nostrils flared. “You don’t know–”

“This isn’t because I almost died or got hurt. I’m telling you I love you because I do. You drive me up the fucking wall and sometimes I wanna murder you myself, but I know what I’m saying.”

Loki placed soft lips to your hand and held that position for a long time. So long that you worried that he was trying to gather courage to tell you that he didn’t feel the same way. That these past five years were no more than a game to him. A cat playing with its favorite toy.

Loki looked back up at you, eyes blazing. “I love you,” he said and called your name. “I love you and you’re mine. Always have been. Always will be.”

“You don’t have to say it–”

“I’m not saying it because you did. I’ve always been drawn to you, Darling. I prayed to Frigga, to…my mother. I prayed that if she let you wake up, if she let you return to me, then I would earn you. I would tell you anything you wanted to know, do anything you asked of me. Even if you asked me to leave you alone,” he said.

“I shouldn’t have given you the ultimatum,” you said.

“No, you were right to. I was a coward and selfish. I like the way you look at me. If I told you about Thor, I’d have to tell you all of it. And I can weather many things, Darling. Your pity is not one of them.”

“Loki…”

“And I would rather you look at me with pity than never look at me at all.” He took a deep breath and smiled briefly. “I will tell you what happened with Thor.”

You licked your lips, at a loss. Your curiosity about it was winning against your need to assure him that you were not entitled to his secrets. You opened your mouth to tell him that; it was the right thing to do but he squeezed your hand.

“Please. I have a vow to uphold and I want to.”

You nodded. You weren’t going to stop him and you really were dying to know the story there. Why he snapped at you like that and looked at his brother as if he wanted to jump into the nearest black hole.

“Thor and I didn’t leave Sakaar on the best of terms. We were always at each other’s throats growing up. Hundreds of years of resentment. I hated him when he was sent to Midgard. So pathetic. So weak. And he still managed to find happiness. It was like no matter what, the sun shined on Thor and left me it’s cold embrace.”

“We agreed to go our separate ways, in fact I tried to trick him one last time. Leave him there and escape. Make him suffer at least in some small way. For him to feel what it was like to be me for once: hopeless. We managed to leave together only to come home and deal with our sister. You know the rest.”

“Something changed with him after Thanos. He broke.” Loki shook his head as if he just realized that the word described Thor perfectly. After what you saw, you’d say it was accurate. Thor had always been loud and boisterous. The life of the party. He managed to make friends easily and make everyone feel included. He was bright. In your face.

When everyone’s eyes were drawn to him, your eyes were on Loki. On how his smile didn’t match his eyes. It seemed like the brighter Thor shone, the more Loki was forced to the shadows. Forced to move aside and make room. You knew what that was like. Your heart called out to him before he knew you existed, no matter what he said.

Seeing Thor reduced to the town drunk, overweight, and likely depressed was horrible to watch from afar. Loki saw it up close. Felt like he had a hand in it. It hurt you to think that Loki had been carrying this by himself for so long.

“We settled here and I checked on Thor every week. But there’s too much bad blood between us. We fought, over and over. And he got worse and worse. I still show up, but Thor…let’s say it hasn’t gotten better these past five years. I wanted him to suffer but I never wanted him to break. Never. I never wished that.”

“I believe you. But Loki, it doesn’t sound like you had anything to do with how he’s feeling now.”

“Don’t try to make me feel better about this. I’ve earned this guilt and I’ve got to make amends on my own,” he said.

You rubbed his hand in yours. “I don’t pity you, Loki. I’m proud of you.”

Loki tilted his head, the question hovering in his blue eyes. You smiled at him.

“It takes a brave person to admit what you did. And braver still to face it head on week after week,” you said.

Loki sighed and shook his head. “You continue to surprise me, Darling,” he said.

You took a deep breath. “Since we’re in a sharing mood…”

You told him about Erian. You told him that even in paradise you felt lonely. Abandoned. You had family but felt like the odd sheep out. Erian helped. She was the only one who didn’t judge you for your permanent state of melancholy. She didn’t try to fix it with parties, ale, or a man. You worked in the dye house, dyeing fabrics for the palace.

The one vice you had was visiting the playhouse. Hearing and seeing magnificent plays by brilliant writers. You told him that you thought his play was hilarious. He smiled at that.

You told him how you pushed Erian to go to the other side to be safe. You thought your side was going to get killed. Erian’s bright light deserved to keep going on, not your black mood.

But you only pushed her to her death. You watched as you got your best friend killed. The only one who saw you. Loved you despite your mood swings.

“Darling,” Loki said.

“Aht, aht. I can’t make you feel better about yours so you can’t make me feel better about mine. I’ve earned this guilt,” you said.

Throwing his words back in his face made him roll his eyes and smile. He sighed and looked at you, content to just see you. Really see you.

“We are two fools, you and I,” he said.

“Two fools trying,” you said and smiled.

“For a night of confessions, I have one more.” He took a deep breath. You rubbed his hand and looked at him. Whatever it was, you truly felt like you could get through it together.

“I know who the saboteur is now.”

Masterlist | Chapter 11 | Chapter 13

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Loki Files #Loki x Black!reader #Loki x Black reader #x Black reader #Loki x Fem!reader #Loki x Fem reader #Loki x reader #Loki x you #Loki fanfic #Loki fan fic #Loki fan fiction #Loki fanfiction #Loki #MCU Loki #Loki AU #loki laufeyson

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ruified · 3 months

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i just finished osamu dazai’s entrance exam and it was SO GOOD??????? in no way did the anime do it an ounce of justice

anyways, just like last time, here are some quotes and my thoughts

i love love love the way we get to really explore kunikida and dazai’s dynamic as partners in this light novel, it really helps the reader understand how they work together so well

"I'm impressed, Kunikida. Nothing gets by you, does it? Incredible." His smile is cold, inhuman. "I'm so glad you were my partner."

"What do you want?! Why did you threaten the detective agency?! What was the point of killing the missing people and setting the bomb?! You... You were..."

You were so talented.

I couldn't have asked for a better partner.

they drive me crazy i love them so much </3 in this scene kunikida is questioning dazai and threatening his life on the suspicions of dazai being the azure apostle, it’s the way that even though they had only spent so little time working together that they both felt they were good partners

i love how in the ln it’s actively a mystery for those who don’t know what’s going on, even as someone who watched the anime, dazai being setup was pretty convincing

the speech given at the end of it all by dazai to kunikida on the risks of following one’s ideals also carries a bigger impact than what was provided in the anime, it makes more sense

the way that sasaki is also a genuine love interest of kunikida’s is also so heart wrenching, her last words really just hit hard

here’s something i found so sweet

"Hello, little one. Can you hear me?" Dazai takes over the call.

"We here are airplane experts. There's nothing to worry about anymore. We're going to fix the plane. What's your name, little miss?"

"Ch-Chiyo..."

"Chiyo, everything's going to be okay. Got any snacks with you?"

"Mommy gave me this piece of candy..."

"Candy, huh? I love candy, too. It's so sweet, and it really helps you relax, doesn't it?"

"Dazai—"

"I've got this... Chiyo, first, I want you to really take your time enjoying that piece of candy. After that, I'm going to need you to take that device you're talking into and bring it to the captain's room. Do you know where the captain's room is?" Chiyo nods, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Don't worry. There's nobody screaming in there, and I bet your mommy will be feeling better in no time."

"B-but I... I can't go alone. I can't leave Mommy behind..."

"Your mommy's gonna be just fine. The pilot will make things all better. So I'm going to need you to take that device to their room and give it to them, okay?"

"Well, this is just no good. I'm quite weak, you see. A big guy like yourself would snap me right in two... But I promised Chiyo I would save her."

THE WAY HE TALKS TO THE LITTLE GIRL WARMS MY HEART AND MAKES IT ACHE AT THE SAME TIME HE HANDLES IT SO WELL AND THE WAY HE WANTS TO KEEP HIS PROMISE UEUEUE

I tear the stitches off my hip pocket and pull out a sheet of paper.

"...I always have a spare page with me for emergencies."

I unfold the paper and write with my own blood.

"The Matchless Poet: Release Key!"

here’s kunikida just being cool i love him sm i love my wife

here’s some silly ones

"It's this incredibly rare book called The Complete Suicide. I've been searching all over for it, and I just noticed it on display in the used bookstore back there — Ah! I have to go back and buy it before someone else does."

Nobody asked.

"Tsk... Guess I'll just have to come up with another way to use you as bait. I bet the criminal targets tourists. All right, Kunikida, slip on your rubber boots, throw on your backpack, put on your red-and-green-striped shirt, and start walking the town in your knickerbockers. Make sure to bring a giant camera with you to take pictures of everyone who walks by and say 'eh' at the end of every sentence."

"Like hell I will!"

""Like hell I will, eh!'"

"You call that a strategy? That's a terri-"

"A terrible idea, eh?'"

"Stop guessing what I'm going to say!"

"Hmm? In that case, how about you get naked, put on a top

you like?"

hat, and ride around on a unicycle screaming what kind of girls

"We're not even talking about the same thing anymore!"

all in all i highly suggest you read osamu dazai’s entrance exam i promise it is so worth it <3

#ෆ┊¡ notes from val #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bsd kunikida #kunikida doppo #doppo kunikida #osamu dazai #kunikidazai #kunidazai

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labrxnth · 8 months

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Prison Break- Part 4 (Leon Kennedy x Reader series)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

CW: Death Island spoilers, suicide thoughts/intentions

WC: 2572

Summary: You and your co-worker Leon Kennedy are sent on a mission to rescue a kidnapped robotic engineer Dr. Antonio Taylor. The journey for him leads the two of you to somewhere you thought you would never go, Alcatraz.

A/N: I guess Tumblr fucking shadow banned me. The last part got flagged. Idk if this part will or not so.... have fun I guess. Also, remember how at the beginning of this fic I said that this was me trying to remember the lines from a month ago? Yeah… it’s really starting to show now

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

“Leon?” Jill asked, her eyes looking over him. The pair stared at each other, trying to process the words that they were thinking.

“You got a gun?” Leon asked.

“No,” she replied. Leon’s hand went into his vest, pulling out a handgun and twirling it, so the hand grip was facing her and he was holding the barrel.

“Now you do,” He said and lightly smirked.

“Thanks,” she replied, taking the gun and making sure it was loaded.

As if on cue, an infected stumbled through the waterways towards them.

“Uh Jill, any idea why that’s here?” Leon asked, firing bullets at it and the one behind it.

“Those… used to be tourists,” she replied, shooting them as well.

“That’s some fucked up tour,” Leon retorted and watched the two go down.

A slithering sound cut across the water of the sewers. Both of their eyes darted to where the sound came from. The sewers were dark, the few between lights on the cobblestone being the only source of light.

Leon could’ve sworn the light was playing tricks on him as he watched something emerge from the water.

The creature crawled up onto the stone walkway, on all fours. It’s brain was exposed and it didn’t have any eyes.

A licker was the one thing that Leon could’ve gone his entire life without running into again.

Scratch that, there were multiple things that Leon could go his entire life without seeing again. But lickers were definitely high on that list.

It crawled towards Leon and Jill, almost sniffing the air trying to get their scent. They were completely still, looking at each other in agreement to deal with it quietly. The wet footprints echoed through the hall as it made its way towards the two.

After it got a little too close for comfort, they aimed their guns at the licker’s brain and unloaded their bullets. As if their day couldn’t get any better, the licker growled at them and started running.

“Uh oh,” Leon said, taking aim at the creature.

More shadowy figures emerged from the water and like ants, more lickers joined the one. Eyes widening and curses flowing, Jill and Leon turned tail and ran down the walkway.

“How many are there?!” Jill yelled as they ran, ocasionally reaching behind herself to fire a bullet.

“I ain’t stopping to count!” Leon replied, almost scoffing. Ahead of them, Leon saw a box with a hazmat symbol on it- a flammable hazmat symbol. “Move!” He said.

Jill rounded the corner coming up and Leon dropped the box to the ground. With a light kick, he sent it down the hallway. His eyes tracked the barrel with the sights of his Sentinel and he pulled the trigger, quickly dodging around the corner.

Licker corpses, flames, and smoke flew past them, Leon’s hand going up to shield himself. After the chaos died down, Leon took a few deep breaths.

“Zero,” he said and looked around the corner.

Jill, who was also trying to catch her breath, looked at him confused. Her eyes squinted and brows furrowed. “What?” She asked.

“You asked me how many there were,” Leon replied, a slight smirk on his face as he leaned against the brick wall.

Jill blinked a few times, looking at him, not believing how he could be like this. They took a few more seconds to recoup and got moving again.

Footsteps echoes through the waterways at the two of them kept moving. “So, how the hell did you get dragged into this?” Jill asked, looking ahead.

“Me and my field partner are tracking down a robotics engineer who was doing some black market trading, the usual,” He replied.

“Field partner? I don’t see them,” Jill said, her interest piqued. Her head turned towards him, expecting him to answer with an explanation.

“It seems like I lost her,” Leon said. “She’s tough though… she’ll make it through.”

Jill scoffed a bit, in a friendly manner. “If she’s the agent that Chris has told me about, then she’ll be fine. She can handle herself,” Jill said.

“She can,” Leon said determined. “I’m in for an earful about us getting separated though,” he added, slightly chuckling.

“I like her already,” Jill retorted.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

“Antonio Taylor? No his name is Tony Ramirez,” Claire said, staring at you. She coughed, leaning forward, leading you to sit next to her with your hand on her shoulder.

“No, me and Leon are tracking him down, he’s definitely our guy,” you replied gently.

Your eyes stared at the man across the cell from you and Claire. He was older, balding, and looked terrified. His eyes were almost shaking in their sockets.

“We’re all dead…” he whimpered, crawling more in the corner.

You rolled your eyes and looked at the top of the cell, trying to find any faults in the bars. “Chris, when did you two get grabbed?” You asked, wondering how much time they’ve been here for.

“About 15 minutes,” Chris gruffly replied. His voice was as tired and strained as Claire’s. The clock was ticking for all of you and your hope was in your partner.

“Don’t worry…. Leon will get to us,” you said, smiling a bit at Claire.

Your hope for Leon never faltered. Not since your first mission together, especially not after the mission in New York. You knew that Leon always found a way, no matter the stakes.

And he always found his way to you.

“Hurry up Leon…” You said under your breath.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

Leon and Jill were making their way to the others, the walkways had turned into tunnels they had to crawl through. He pulled one of his gloves off with his teeth, putting it in one of the pockets on his tactical vest.

The only light in the tunnel was from their flashlights as they made their way through.

“So, your black market engineer… gonna tell me more?” Jill asked, trying to pass the time. She looked ahead the best that she could with Leon in front of her, trying to find any shapes in the dark. Having someone with her helped, but her brain still played out the worst scenario possible. Either the night in the Spencer mansion, September of 1998, or Wesker brainwashing her plagued her vision when she was alone.

“Taylor? Yeah. He was making robotics for the government then decided to sell U.S. secrets to anyone willing to pay,” Leon replied, trying his best to look ahead. “And I guess ‘Bounty Hunter’ is a part of me and (Y/n)’s job description now. Why are you here?” His voice cut through Jill’s thoughts.

“Me, Chris, and Claire are here tracking down some virus readings,” Jill replied. “Claire found some virus culture on a whale and double checked it with Rebecca. She roped me and Chris into looking into it.”

“It seems like our cases are intertwined,” Leon replied.

Jill looked at the tunnel they were crawling through, her eyes climbing up the brick walls. “What were these tunnels even made for?” She wondered out loud.

“They were munition tunnels made back when this was a fort,” Leon answered without skipping a beat.

“Didn’t know you were a tour guide,” Jill replied.

Leon’s chuckle cut the tension in the tunnel. “I’ll be putting ‘your guide on me résumé,” he chuckled. Jill almost bumped into him when he stopped short, his hand going in the air.

“What?” Jill whispered.

“Can’t you feel it? There’s a draft…” Leon replied, his hand moving to right to feel the stone bricks. Feeling around them, he found one that gave when he pushed in. “Bingo..” he added and pushed it in, it falling to the ground.

Jill got the idea and started helping him clear the poorly set bricks, making an exit for them.

“After you,” Leon said, gesturing for Jill to go first.

“Ladies first,” Jill replied and gestured for him to go.

“Fine,” Leon grumbled and crawled through the exit.

His feet hit regular concrete flooring and he was able to fully stand up. Shining his flashlight around, they must’ve been in a storage room. “It’s clear,” he said back to Jill who followed him.

The two walked towards the door, opening it to a room with monitors and control panels everywhere along a wall. File cabinets, pipes, and white board adorned the rest of the room.

Leon walked to the middle of it, looking around to try and find a clue about his missing doctor. Jill joined him, looking around the console.

Suddenly, the PA system came to life and a voice cut through the room over the speakers. “Well if it isn’t Jill Valentine and Leon Kennedy,” the voice said.

Jill and Leon stood back to back, their guns drawn faster than the blink of an eye.

“Well, if it isn’t… whoever you are,” Leon replied.

“Come on out and we won’t bite,” Jill said.

“Meet me in the holding cells.. I have a few things, sorry, people, that you’re looking for,” the voice replied and the speakers turned off.

Leon and Jill’s eyes locked and they ran towards the holding cells.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

Over the past ten minutes, you and the Redfields had definitely deteriorated. Your breathing was more labored, feeling the shortness in your lungs, and you felt fatigued, sluggish. Every once in awhile, a cough escaped you, it ringing in your ears and chest.

Looking across the cell from you at Claire, you could tell she wasn’t doing well either. You could only guess what Chris was like on the other side of the wall Claire was up against.

You heart the sound of two pairs of boots hitting the ground, rubbing towards the cells.

“Chris!” You heard Leon say. As he got closer, he saw Claire and you in the cell. “Claire, (Y/n)!” He said and ran over to the bars. Reaching through the rusted iron bars, his hand felt your forehead, then your cheeks, checking your temperature.

“Shit, you’re burning up,” he said.

If you weren’t so pressed for time, you would’ve been thankful for him. He looked like an angel swooping down from heaven to save you. In your delirious state, you saw how his shirt sleeve was tight around his bicep muscles and took a mental picture. Claire coughing snapped you back to reality.

“I’m fine,” you said and pulled his hand away, coughing into your elbow. “Claire and Chris have been here longer…” you added.

“Are you okay?” Leon asked the two of you.

“I’m okay,” Claire replied, obviously lying.

You were about to say something when the sound of a door opening caught all of your attention. Leon and Jill pointed their guns towards the balcony and you and Claire only had the strength to look in the direction.

Out walked two figures, one you had met before. The same, blank face that you met on the highway yesterday. Maria stood next to a man that you had never seen before in your life. He looked around Chris’s age, his hair was medium length and dark. He carried a cane with him that he rhymically tapped on the ground; the sound on the metal catwalk pierced your ears.

“I wouldn’t point your gun at me,” he said, looking at Jill and Leon. “Claire and (Y/n) are both infected, in a cell with Dr. Antonio Taylor. Soon enough Claire will turn, killing Taylor and eventually (Y/n) if she doesn’t turn fast enough.”

Your blood ran cold as you thought about this being how your life ended. You spent the past few years trying to defeat the virus, only to be infected in the end. That and you could t even confess your long time feeling for your work partner. This was a shitty way to go.

Claire looked up at you, her eyes conveying everything you needed to know. She was exhausted, and rightfully so, but somewhere deep in that exhaustion was the usual Redfield determination that could move mountains and punch boulders.

“I wonder… will you shoot Claire and (Y/n)? Shoot just Claire and let your partner turn, or let them both turn and watch them rip Taylor limb from limb?” The man on the balcony asked.

Leon looked in the cell, the gears in his head obviously turning and quick. He couldn’t shoot you even if you were turning and begging him to. You were his one weakness in the world, he couldn’t lay a finger on you to hurt you.

And Claire… the two of them had been through hell and back, being two of a handful of survivors of Raccoon City. They were friends, thick as thieves for awhile. Letting the two of you get taken by infection wasn’t what he wanted, but he couldn’t shoot either of you.

“Leon… it’s okay… do what you have to,” you said and coughed, looking at him. You knew what the correct choice was. Death by infection plagued your nightmares over and over again as you fell asleep. It was a scary possibility for the job you had, and now that possibility was your reality.

“I can’t…” he said quietly, looking at you. The rhythmic tapping from the man’s cane hit the balcony again, making you wince.

He pulled out a revolver and shot it towards your cell. Instinctively, your arms went around your head, to somehow protect it, but you felt nothing. Your blood went cold as you thought of the possibility of him shooting Claire. Shaking, your arms went down to find Claire staring back at gou, equally as fine and confused. You two turned to look at Dr. Taylor and saw a gun shot wound in his chest. The man fell over, collapsing to the ground.

Leon grunted in pain, his hand swatting his neck. Maria vaulted over the balcony and landed on the bottom floor, her eyes dead set on Leon. She punched Jill in the stomach and kicked Leon in the torso, sending him flying into the bars of your cell and laying on the floor. His back was right up against the bars.

She went to kick him again, but the man’s voice cut through the room. “Leave him, the infection will kill him,” he said. Maria glared at you and Leon, then made her way back up to the balcony.

“Leon…” You said and grabbed his arm through the bars. He wiggled his arm out of your hold and replaced it with his hand, looking at you.

Your forehead leaned against the bars, almost like it was against his forehead. His head leaned up against the same ones and it felt like you two were the only two in the room. Everybody else faded away as you could still hear talking and everything melted away until it was just the two of you. You heard the familiar cadence and tone of Leon’s voice, he was talking, but you couldn’t make out what it was. His eyes were still locked on yours, wincing every once in a while.

Just like the mission in New York, it was just the two of you.

And just like that mission in New York, you could’ve sworn you meant the world to him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

Catch this early on my AO3

#resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfiction #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #slow burn #leon s kennedy

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chogiwow · 7 months

Text

in search of happiness | part one.

pairing: bang chan x gn! reader

genre: heavy angst, hurt-comfort, fluff undertones

wc: part one : 20.6k+

warnings: suicidal themes, suicide attempt, drowning, dysfunctional family, death, smoking, major character death, themes of depression, mentions of anxiety, cancer (minor character), language, heavy themes, suggestive, eventual smut (there will be allusions, but i’m hoping i won’t have to write actual smut for this).

a/n: she is back bitches

PART I | PART II | PART III | PART IV

ONE – UNWASHED DISHES IN THE SINK.

It's a Saturday afternoon, and Kim’s Diner is brimming with locals and tourists alike during a particularly busy lunch hour.

The suds of the dishwater splatters on your arm, tiny bubbles staining the sleeve of your old black sweater before getting swallowed into the fabric in an oval patch. The lingering worry of the rolled up sleeves getting drenched is drowned in the pile of dishes waiting to be washed and dried, something Minho reminds you of with an attempt to hurry you up in the process with a subtle threat of the orders on hold. It mocks you, somewhat.

You can smell it, the oily meat and the spicy soup in the midst of the lemony scent of the dish soap, clanging of pots and ladles behind your back and the swift hands working their knives into chopping vegetables.

A bead of sweat slides down the side of your face, falling into the sink, the tiny kitchen cramped and hot, making you perspire and wipe your face, but you resist the urge to rub the tingling left behind by the trickling sweat down the side of your face in the fear of getting soap bubbles all over your face. That would certainly be a gross feeling.

The bell on the wall dings, another order slip clipped to the wire mesh across the small window separating the dining and the kitchen area, a new set of instructions being yelled. Another portion of soup, another plate of grilled meat, a bowl of udon, pan fried noodles; a loud chorus of yells break out, everybody scattering towards their workstations – in essence it’s mostly the same, because the restaurant doesn’t offer much when it comes to a diverse platter. Not that you were catering to people with a refined palette, it was a small local restaurant tucked away in a small cranny of the hill where everybody knew everybody, and for those who had been living here for years, they didn’t even require the menus – now yellowed and fraying at the edges of its lamination, the plastic bent and peeling.

Stacking the last plate onto the drying rack, Felix is quick to take over, smiling at you as he picks up the dry cloth and wipes them down before putting them away carefully on the shelves. Removing your pink scrubbing gloves, your attention is called to the front where Mr. Kim – the owner, a man in his sixties now, who mainly mans the front desk and chats with the customers, giving free reign to the younger generation after keeping this place alive for almost thirty years– asks you to serve and clean up tables. A sharp pain jolts through your left wrist, the first sign of a terrible ache seeping through your bones. You ignore it.

Untying the damp apron from around your waist, you leave the chaos of the kitchen, wiping your sweat on your sweater sleeves only to shiver when you push open the door into the diner, the sudden change in temperature noticeable and a temporary respite from the heat of the oils and spices, but only for so long since it would eventually start to feel much too cold out here as it got darker outside.

It’s not long after that the chilly air makes you pull your sleeves down, your loose knitted sweater too flimsy for withstanding the cold by itself, but hustling around the diner helps you disregard the occasional gusts of winds through the open doors and cracks in the windows.

The restaurant itself was a quaint little thing with white stone walls, the telltale coziness of being perched atop a hill between tall trees, aged with vines draped around its chipping paint like a dress made of leaves, flagged along the perimeter by small ground lights, all glowing in different intensities with age. A wooden sign with roughened edges now fading engravings of ‘Kim’s Diner’ hung above the door.

Nobody minded the worn out wooden furniture and the same old chequered tablecloths in red and white, if anything, there was a sense of familiarity to it all, like a place preserved in memory for years, still running and still alive.

Tucked in the hills, the sloping terracotta roofs perched up were visible from the foot of the hill, burnt brick and missing a few tiles, but a certain landmark even still after years. The huge trees almost clamped down like an overgrown canopy, wide steps with moss carpets gradually merging into a downward slope leading down to the main hill town, but it was a decent walk downhill and the spot where the restaurant was nestled felt like a secret shared by the people of this small hill town.

You liked it up here though, leaning against the rusty railings to look down upon the town under a darkening sky, lights blinking into life and people walking by; nothing seemed rushed, it wasn’t quiet but it was calm.

From where you leaned across the table, running a slightly damp cloth over the plastic covering the tablecloth, you spot a figure through the window with bright blonde hair climbing up the stairs, struggling to breath and bending against their knees to catch his breath. Another tourist, you suppose, from the looks of their bright hair and camera bag strapped across their shoulder.

They stop for a moment, leaning against the balusters of the long railings, their profile inclined sideways such that the foggy windows don't let you have a good look at their face, but you discern it to be a man. You stare for a while at the broad back, the weather inappropriate attire of a simple brown cashmere sweater with the neck of a white t-shirt visible under the collar unsurprising, since most tourists didn’t often feel the cold of the hills as you did, usually coming from lands hotter and their winters more cruel that the winds of the hills were but a mere breeze of respite after a long day of hiking for them.

Inhaling a long breath, he’s still for a few seconds, eyes closed and turned towards the sky as if soaking in the winter sun, lips parting when he exhales through his mouth, chest heaving at the slight exertion, one strap of his bag slipping off his shoulder before he pulls it back up.

A low rumble echoes and you're momentarily distracted, your eyes turning towards the sky which was starting to turn grey, the clouds slowly rolling in and you knew the evening would get chillier if it indeed rained. The thought makes you shiver, drawing the knitted sweater closer around you, too flimsy for the incoming weather, the familiar sting in your wrist explained.

Placing the salt and pepper shakers beside the napkin stand, you attend to a call of a bottle of soju, pacing towards the refrigerator and pulling out a chilled bottle of the drink before placing it on the table with a shot glass for the customer.

Felix calls from the front, order for table seven ready to be served and you make your way to the serving counter, placing the hot steaming bowls of udon and a set of chopsticks each, swishing it away amongst the loud chatter and gradually louder rumbling of the skies with a practised proficiency, almost missing the ding of the bell that goes off when the front door opens.

You're in a hurry to serve though, not catching the person entering and by the time you've placed the dishes down in front of the hungry teenagers who ordered them, you only catch the same broad back with a mop of brilliant blonde hair walking towards one of the tables and sitting with their back facing towards you. The tourist from before.

The first few drops of rain are fat droplets of water, you’re in the kitchen again, the steam of dimsums and steamed vegetables greeting you as you stir a pot of clear soup, heating it exactly for three minutes and then ladling the slightly frothy and thickened with cornstarch liquid into white bowls, plating them on a large tray, ready to be handed out. With Seungmin, your usual helping hand, on a three day leave, you suddenly found yourself helping with the serving and cooking simultaneously, Felix helping you out as much as he could but he could only do so much, especially when Minho required him in the back, chopping and cooking. Regardless, you appreciated the help and didn’t mind the extra work.

There wasn’t really a concept of the intricacies of cooking like in high end restaurants such as the ones in the city, in fact, all the recipes were a Kim family heirloom, handed down through generations before Minho came and changed up the dynamic in his own way without ever entirely changing the essence of it. The noodles were handmade, the vegetables cut using only a knife, without worrying about the exact thickness of the onion rings – at the end of the day, really, no one cared about all that fancy stuff, satisfied to just be able to enjoy the same old dishes.

Maybe that’s why you stayed, even though you had craved change so longingly. In the end, you only found comfort in what was familiar.

A new order is strung up on the mesh wire. You’re already out the doors with the previous order, the rain now having picked up pace and turned into a steady drizzle. It already smelled like wet earth and freshly mown grass. You have no time to stop and appreciate the scenery though, quite literally hustling now since it was only you on serving duty now.

The sound of chatter increases, the rain falls harder, harsher, the already dim diner turns darker and gloomier, only alive with the constant chattering of people and the sound of cutlery. Felix rings from the front, handing you the order for table number five, a two seater near the window where the blonde haired tourist sat, head turned towards the window and watching the rain as it poured now.

You smile and lift the tray, wincing when your wrist bends a bit too painfully, almost dropping the tray but you’re quick to disregard it as you move with caution now, slightly breathless at the exertion. You might not be complaining but it seemed like you did mind the lack of another helping hand what with the diner being busier on weekends.

“Order for dim sums and udon,” you say, carefully picking up the bowl and pot of steamed dim sums and placing them on the table with a pair of chopsticks, “enjoy your meal.”

You look up at the man, your perfunctory smile for the customers already making its way up to your lips before you abruptly stop short, lips awkwardly turning back down in belated realisation.

You stare at the man with a breath you don’t even realise you’re holding, the cogs in your brain positively churning, and yet you don’t exude the bewilderment on your face, containing it in your chest with pursed lips and a choked up throat.

“Hey (y/n), it’s been a while…” the man smiles, the dimples on his cheeks deepening then vanishing when he realises you don’t return his greeting.

Your claw-like hold around the tray goes limp, almost slipping through your fingers as you stare dumbstruck and quite idiotically. The rain pounds on the roof like a torrent of bullets outside as if to maim, trees swaying under nature's assault, the diner lights up in a yellow glow under the darkening sky.

A jolt of pain surges through your wrist again, your fingers twitching against the serving dish. The noise in the diner heightens, a dull throb in your head like blood rushing up too suddenly, the heat from the kitchen suddenly turned reminiscent even though you had just been in there not even five minutes ago.

A loud gust of wind blows through the cracks of the doors and windows, carrying with it tiny splatters of rain that tickle the back of your neck as it seeps through your loose knitted sweater and settles like a chill in your bones.

It doesn’t bother you.

TWO – ON A SATURDAY AFTERNOON.

It was late by the time Chan woke up.

Rubbing his eyes groggily, he groaned at the light filtering through his windows, covering his face with his hands, his limbs still weighing him down in a relaxed state on his worn out mattress. The time on his phone read way past noon, and with an absentmindedness induced by his just woken up mind, he noted that this was by far the most he had slept in an entire week.

Sitting up on his bed, he scratches his naked chest, recalling getting rid of his shirt sometime in the middle of the night when he kept tossing and turning against his sheets. Lazily stretching out his limbs, he lets out a loud yawn that makes his jaw hurt and eyes tear up.

He has no plans today, except staying at home and studying for semester finals. He wasn’t looking forward to it, his body promptly confirming that doubt when he plopped back down, head hitting the pillow with a dull throb.

His phone buzzed somewhere around him, his hands prodding and searching amongst the scrambled up sheets for the device. A message from Jisung reminding him to cover his afternoon shift at the cafe and thanking him yet again. He groans when he realises he promised Jisung to cover for him today and only had a little more than two hours to get ready and as he had been putting it these days, get his shit together. Two hours was more than enough, it wasn’t like he had much to do except shower, eat and smoke a cigarette.

His thumb scrolled through his planner app, his day cleared off his usual ‘history - finish module 1’ to ‘cafe shift!’, the former shifted to a later part of the day since weekends were mostly flexible for him.

Chan had fallen into a habit of planning his days, which meant every day on his calendar had been planned to the T weeks prior, from exactly every single activity and chore he would carry out the following month so that by the end of it, he had something going on for him. If Friday was grocery shopping, then no matter how tired he was after an extended tutoring session, he’d be there at the 24/7 mart at three AM, slapping watermelons to check their ripeness or grabbing whatever was left of the fresh kale in the isles.

For the majority of his day, he was impelled to study for his finals in a week from now, hunched over his desk cramming his History of Photography III textbook wondering why this was necessary in the first place, while he tried not to be distracted by the imposing anxieties of the world waiting for him after these last few months of the protection of his university.

In his final year of his photography major, he couldn’t deny the increasing apprehension of having to step out from under the protective umbrella over his head, his professor’s chimes of his prodigal achievements deemed smaller and superficial the nearer he approached his graduation. Already politely turned away from three interning companies, his alleged talent was under full threat of being judged and tossed aside as an average to decent performance. He still had a few months, but time either seemed to slow down on some days and yet on others speed past him in a whimsical blur where he would be left reeling under his unproductiveness and the growing pain in his chest of not being enough.

His planning had not all been in vain; he had started off with a fresh mind, keeping up with applying for internships, completing his assignments all the while working at a cafe that had been a godsend in the form of Jisung and his unusual knack for convincing the manager to get another barista even though they weren’t short of staff, and on some days doing photoshoots for weddings and the fashion department for a decent wage. He was adulting, and though his sixteen year old self had looked forward to the prospect of this notion, now he wanted nothing but to go back to those days.

It was this same prospect that had excited him when he received a full scholarship to his university in Seoul. Much of his life, all he could remember was spending it in the hills, where even though the weather was pleasant and the people were kind, his starry eyed dreams as a teenager to leave that small town and move to a metropolitan city had been a fixation – a drive for him to work hard and shoot his shot and get out of that place.

It was nice for a while, he was in his honeymoon phase, quite literally marvelling at the fast paced life in the streets, adrenaline filled lungs breathing in the new life excitedly till his nights bled into days which bled into more nights and not long after, he felt like he was dangling from the hands of a clock that dictated every move he made.

He forgot about his home in the meantime, so caught up in the chaos of everyday life, of the same smell of coffee and baked buns, the same fabric of his brown apron, the same bus to the university campus, the same classes with a professor droning on about visual literacy, the same stick of cigarette dangling between his lips, the same stress of finals every year. Same, same, same. Boring. Mundane. Exhausting.

The stars in his eyes dulled with every passing day, his room often reeked of takeout food, prints upon prints of films lay in a scatter across his desk, none of them seemingly what people were looking for.

Turning the shower cap on, Chan lets himself dwell on his mundanity, at the end of the day he was another faceless person in the crowd because the city was too big and too grand and too dazzling that it hid all other beings in its shadows. It was a big wide hole, a void sucking everybody in. Chan was also lost somewhere in there, lured in by the diamond like gleam at first sight, only to be trapped in a tedious life where he competed against himself every day without knowing what he was competing for. It was like sitting in a test without knowing what he was to be tested on.

The water spurts out ice like in the cold January, making him flinch when it hits him out of nowhere. But he stays rooted under the showerhead, standing his ground till he got used to the temperature and the water gradually turns lukewarm. It reminds him of a memory in the back of his head, of children squealing and a water fight. He urges the images to go away, inexplicably chastised at the mere thought of it. He was no child anymore, whining for a nostalgic summer in the cold months.

The water has always been Chan’s greatest friend.

In fact, he’d go as far as to say that it’s been a sort of companion to him when he was younger. He claims so only because of a vivid recollection of throwing himself in the huge wave with his dad yelling at him before two strong arms picked him up and away from the clutches of the water.

He had whined, missing the way the foamy waves had engulfed him in a topaz hug, the sand under his feet dissolving like air through his toes, the silky curtain leaving him drenched and longing for a taste of more. He whined and whined and whined till at last he was sent to swimming lessons just to shut him up. That, and also, his parents didn’t want their son to drown doing something reckless like that again.

He was comfortable in the water. It held him snuggly in its embrace and when he dunked his head underneath and opened his eyes, he was met with a blue silence that deafened any other noise with its dulcet palms over his ears.

Under the comfort of the transparent blanket, the voices and shapes above his head were garbled and distorted and a part of him liked that. A part of him liked to envision those shapes as blurry blobs speaking a gibberish language. He didn’t have to put a name to them nor try to distinguish them from one another; a childhood fantasy that became a habit and stuck like a leech to him.

It’s a calming fixation on most days now when he doesn’t have to worry about his career. But of course, we will talk about it, because there’s a trouble plaguing everybody in the small nooks and crannies of their life, some people just let it stay there, oblivious to its existence and others have a hard time fighting it off when it seeps into their bones like moist vapour, settling down heavily in the calcium crevices.

Chan likes to believe this process of staying underwater for as long as his lungs permits him to, now heavy with the smoke he’s injected in them, as cathartic. A shit load of help that is when he’s vividly aware of his rotting insides with what he had done to them himself, but regardless, he likes to think that the longer he stays in water, he’s ridding himself of the plague that is always a hair’s breadth away from attaching themselves to his core, except he takes the extra measure of ensuring that he’s inhaling chlorine water if he loses control and spluttering in surprise as if that weren’t his intention from the start.

He wouldn’t like to admit it, but it was his coping mechanism as Jisung had put it so blatantly, because doing so would mean he needed help. He didn’t need help. He just liked to hold his breath underwater when things got slightly inconvenient, but that did not equate to needing help.

He’s out of the shower soon enough, draping on a black hoodie in his cramped one-and-a-half room apartment, the most he could afford under his crippling student loan, strolling towards the tiny refrigerator for breakfast. There’s only some leftover kimchi, a day-old kimbap roll and ripe bananas.

Chan didn’t have a dining table, he didn’t deem it necessary, rather a hassle to fit it into his tiny apartment, especially when he ate all his meals alone, which he could do perfectly well sitting on the ground with his back against his beaten down couch, the plastic takeout containers placed on the low coffee table and his laptop beside it, playing some movie he put on for the sake of a break from his hectic days.

Yet, he wasn’t entirely unhappy with the way things had turned out. His gaze trails up from where he sat on the couch, the wall in front of him bereft of any photo frames but filled with strings of polaroids and sticky notes. The grainy films with smiling people – his friends, sticky notes, crumpled and some torn and taped back with silly doodles and one with a lipstick stain – Chan still smiles, even though the paper jaggedly torn and the number of the girl who hit on him at the bar two years ago tossed out a long time ago, Hyunjin had thought it funny to add the memento to a growing collection of silly, smiling people on the wall. He was happy, he was fine. He had friends, they loved him and he loved them.

But why couldn’t he smile? Why were his muscles so tense and tired? The food in his mouth suddenly feels too hard to chew, his jaws aching and throat burning when he swallows. His eyes suddenly blurry, a thin curtain of moisture veils them. One moment he swallowed the smoke of his cigarette and the very next he gasped for air like a novice beginner.

He was fine, but he sat there with a mouthful of rice and kimchi as the tears rolled down his face in a gentle stream.

THREE – UNFINISHED CHAPTERS

The present would not exist for you had there not been a past.

In hindsight, everything that you did now, whatever you were now, had all been because of who you had been in the past, or rather whatever scraps the past had left you to be sewn.

You wake up rested, but even more exhausted than when you went to bed. Your days sewing a paradoxical blanket whose weight you had gotten used to.

You’ve never paid much attention to how people around you felt, because mostly they were happier than you were with dysfunctional families and it only rooted a sense of deep reproach in you; how were you not allowed to be this happy? How could people smile and pretend the stench of their broken homes didn’t stick on their clothes and seep through their skin, following them around wherever they went? How did people go around you without feeling the continuous need to scratch that itch of jealousy and resentfulness of not having what someone else did?

You realised it was so jarringly easy to disassociate yourself from all that under a pair of chocolate eyes that stared down at you kindly, just a sliver of boyish mischievousness behind them, but the inexplicable yet unavoidable comfort of slowly easing yourself into a sense of warmth that they brought.

It's the smallest of things that lead to a bigger plan premeditated all along and in your case it was the forgotten pencil pouch on your study table at home that fateful Wednesday morning. Of course you scrambled around, rummaging through your bag in the hopes of finding a stray pen in the depths of it, but it was no luck and you had resigned yourself to borrowing one from the person sitting behind you except, he seemed to have beaten you to it.

Three little taps on your shoulder had you turning around to a kind smile and an upraised hand with a pencil between its fingers, motioning at you to take it.

You decided then that you didn’t like this boy.

It was an impulsive decision, yet it was one of those intuitive feelings of having an immaculate dislike to someone who didn’t mind being scoffed for helping the scapegoat of the class, perfectly capable of ignoring the disbelieving stares of his classmates.

Had the sixteen year old you sensed an ulterior motive to his actions? Or had you just reproached the genuinity in his eyes? You had ultimately accepted his offering, the wooden stick with its yellow plastic wrapping around its shaft feeling alien against your fingers, but before long you had learnt to ignore the confused glares directed towards you and pressed the lead against your workbook as you proceeded to work in silence.

You weren’t at the extreme brunt of your class’s ramifications of simply wanting to be on the top of something, but you weren’t exactly the most ingrained in its social gratifications either; it was perhaps your aloofness to it all that made you a part of the outcasts. So far, eating alone had worked out for you, jogging along the track at your own pace had suited you, spending your time in one corner of the library in your free time had been gratifying.

In spite of making it clear that it was what you preferred, you found yourself being plagued by him at all times. Those brown eyes seemed to be looking out for you everywhere you went and the kind smile always curled on his lips when you finally took notice. You didn’t like it, not one bit, starting from the way the chair beside you at lunch was always occupied, there was always a pair of panting lungs when you jogged along the track field and the ever so present sound of pages being flicked in your ears in a spot in the library that was supposed to be only yours.

You didn’t like finding yourself gazing up at a pair of chocolate orbs, drowning you in their depths every time you stared too hard, a beat longer than you were supposed to. An unusual friendship bloomed out of it, one where you reprised your aloofness and Chan, his endearing demeanour of sticking to you like a leech. The much too energetic one and the much too tired one – a dynamic your classmates had never expected, but you weren’t complaining when it acted like a shield before eventually, they started to take less notice of you. Or transitioning to high school made them mature.

Your dislike for him did not arise of its own accord; at first it had been a conscious decision to resent someone who looked happier than you. But even the most stubborn person can be moved by genuinity, and you had never quite turned entirely stone cold stubborn. Perhaps he had saved you in a way, for a brief moment, but he had prevented you from walking down the steps of the dark void.

Where does one even start with Chan? In all fairness, you didn’t think you would ever have to start with him again; he was an unfinished chapter in your book you had long decided to omit. You were sure if you were to ever pen down your autobiography, you would not mention him in the least, treating him like the air around you, unnecessary to bring to notice.

But even air is ever so present, though not required to be brought up in everyday conversations because of its unconsciously silent presence.

He would be there, under countless drafts of your uneventful life, the pages filled with a curly haired, brown-eyed boy whose cheeks blossomed into dimples when he smiled. It was romantic, it was tragic. It was a story you wished would never end, but even so, the gurgling pit in your stomach ever so present served as a reminder that every story has an ending.

The only thing worse than having an ending would be an unfinished book. You hid under the cover of the pristine pages under this reassurance, that Chan would not be an unfulfilled fragment of memory you would jot down in ink like a summer dream, before exactly that happened. Aloofness causes no pain until brought to reality.

The basis of your friendship lay on a strong foundation of your peculiarly clashing personalities, interests and fears.

While Chan was a social butterfly in your school, you were the quiet one simply there for education. Making friends had never been your forte nor was that on the forefront of your mind for as long as you could remember. Till Chan, quite literally, thrust himself into your life.

Yet, quite amusingly, he was the one who made you resent the water less.

There has only been one instance you’ve had a brush with (almost) drowning, but it made you regard the prospect of even stepping near a water body a daunting and scary once.

The first time it was in second grade, the time when people this age are usually immature little brats and would do anything for the sake of entertainment. You had only learnt how to doggy paddle and float in water, but even so the thought of trying to stay afloat in the 6 feet deep end, the idea of not being able to feel the ground with your feet, had daunted you and you pretty much made it through every time by just swimming along the length in quick strokes till you were certain the water didn’t reach above your waist with your feet touched the slippery ground beneath.

It was an unpleasant surprise therefore, to find yourself being pushed into the deeper end out of nowhere, your body falling straight down vertically and your inability to come up to the surface making you take huge gulps of air which in turn only choked you more. It was quite a scene, your limbs flailing and silent screams of help escaping in bubbles through your lips.

You never went near a pool again.

Almost four years later, you feel yourself drowning in a set of familiar eyes you had already once found yourself a victim to ages ago. The familiarity was nostalgic, akin somewhat to finding a lost piece of jewellery years later after you thought you had lost it. And it was so different. It was breathing and suffocating at the same time, it was fear and euphoria in a concoction, it was too much all at once. You liked it. You hated it. You hated liking it. You liked hating it. You… you missed it. You didn’t resent it.

You find yourself getting drawn into those eyes again, perhaps similar to the way you had back then, ever since, but you've never quite been able to place this feeling.

You've both changed drastically, it’s not just physically you’re sure; he looks wiser, more tired and much more mature. You catch a whiff of mint breath fresheners, a scent you had never associated with him but nonetheless so characteristic of him, you couldn’t call it alien or unlikely of him to adopt it.

Yet it's more than that, he is just so... so very beautiful.

You blink.

Once, twice and thrice. He grows shy (or perhaps uncomfortable) under your gaze, flickering his eyes down to the condensing drops of water glazing around his cup of iced tea, beaded diamonds easily destructible with a flick of his fingers. He twists his digits in his lap, resisting the urge to do so.

You wonder what would have happened had you not forgotten your pencil case at home that Wednesday morning.

“Hi Chan, long time…”

The din inside the restaurant feels like white noise, it’s everywhere, sticking to your thin sweater, buzzing through your hair, nipping at your skin.

“Long time indeed…”

You smell like dishwater and oil. Chan smells like breath mints.

“Good to…see you?”

White noise. Humming, buzzing, electrifying. Everywhere; on your skin, on your clothes, in your hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, you too.”

“Enjoy your food then.”

Perunctionary smile, polite bow, retreating steps.

“Um (y/n),” a halt in your steps, you turn around, “we should…hang out some time. Catch up, maybe?”

Expectant eyes, hopeful voice, cautious words.

Do you want to finish this chapter after all?

FOUR – ICED TEA IN A SPOT OF SUN.

Most people don’t understand the amount of theoretical knowledge that goes into a major like photography, it’s not always pointing a lens wherever you want and taking a picture. Anybody can do that, anybody can be good at taking pictures without having to pay for a degree for the same.

Nonetheless, Chan rose beyond the intimidating notion of having to do well. He enjoyed what he did, had a passion for it and therefore he thought he could make it past four years banking only on his passion and talent.

What nobody told him was the world outside was too cold, too frigid – downright ignorant of him and his flame that sputtered out the second he stepped outside. He was a nobody in the huge bowl of success stories chosen at random by the universe.

In fact, who was Chan at this point? What was he?

Another product of the society that force feeds their generation to do well…. No, he had risen above that semantic error, he had worked hard, he had understood every single text and every single parabolic function in his textbooks rather than remembered them by heart before throwing up the texts jammed in his head on his exam papers.

He read every single book like they held the world’s greatest information, studied extra hard, solved equations for the mere fun of it all because he wanted to understand; he wanted to know the working behind them, dismantle them and play with them.

And yet here he was, twenty four and supposedly much wiser than when he was in middle school, and still! He understood nothing, what was he supposed to be doing?

All his life, he had been fed the grains of being a talented individual, sure to do great things, of having such a pleasant personality, someone who would never hurt a fly. Someone loved, adored and precious to not just family and acquaintances but even to fleeting strangers who strayed into his life momentarily.

It’s admittedly easier to hold back on such thoughts as of the moment though, when Chan is busy battling the cobwebs all over his clothes and sneezing into his hands so he doesn’t further unsettle all the dust around him.

Since the day he arrived, he’s been at the gargantuan task of cleaning up his old house in the hills. Granted, his parents had put it out for rent even as a holiday home, they had never hired someone to regularly keep this place in check. Now that their son was back in the hills for a few months at the most, they were more than happy to let him stay sans the rent.

While it wasn’t all that bad, he would have to call in for some minor plumbing work and look at the light out front in the porch since it wouldn’t work and he had almost tripped on his own feet trying to navigate his way to the front door through the dark.

Though only a week had passed, he had not made his presence known explicitly. He knew for a fact that you and Minho had stayed back, he wasn’t sure he was up for a rendezvous with the town people. It wasn’t like him to avoid social gatherings, he had indeed noticed most of the older folks who were still here, but he would much rather have some time to himself before stepping out and announcing his visit.

So he busied himself with cleaning up the house, turning down his mother’s proposal to find a helping hand, insisting that he would rather do it himself. He needed that time for himself, and though a helping hand sounded like a godsend, the ache in his back every night he went to bed almost felt gratifying. The dust in his nose and the grit under his nails did not.

Though a part of him was slightly impatient in wanting to reach out to his old friends, it was also equally anxiety inducing to anticipate your reactions. Where does one even start with such things? Back in the city, it was easy to lose connection for weeks during finals, but there was an unspoken bond of reconnecting right after with a simple text and a coffee date down a few blocks.

Chan hasn’t been here in almost four years. That was four years of lost contact and unknowingly, it was suddenly starting to weigh down on him of how quickly the time had passed by without him even noticing. How do you reconnect with friends you haven’t talked to in so long?

The answer came in the form of his front door ringing on his fourth day while he was in the midst of scrubbing a particularly stubborn spot of grime on the floor.

He opened the door wearing his rubber gloves, sweating and with a frown at the interruption. The moment the stranger makes themself known, Chan is gasping in recognition and grinning almost like his ten year old self had – all too bubbly and pleasantly surprised.

“Minho! Holy shit!”

The boy in question smiles back gleefully, pulling Chan in for a hug disregarding the protest and a faint cry of dirty gloves and clothes.

Chan pulls back and stands at his doorstep, watching almost in awe as Minho takes his shoes off and lifts up a box wrapped in blue cloth, grinning down at the boy who had been a dominant part of his childhood. He still had his catty eyes and pouty smile and was as tall as Chan himself, maybe even taller, definitely a toned physique since when he last saw him in high school. Still reeling under slight shock, he realises he hasn’t stopped ogling at the boy till pointed out rather sassily by him.

“I know I grew up handsome and all, butt geez, are you gonna invite me in or stand here the whole day?”

Letting out a fond scoff, Chan leads him in, still grinning.

Minho sits on the floor where Chan had laid out a jute mattress for the time being, all his furniture subjected to a rough dusting and cleaning out in the backyard where they now sat basking in the sun before he would bring them in later in the evening.

“Sorry for the mess, and uh, lack of furniture,” Chan remarks sheepishly, bringing out a large glass flask of filled honey lemon tea and two glasses, “I’ve been making this place habitable again.”

“No worries, I don’t mind.”

Chan adjusts the table fan to face them, taking a seat beside him in a spot of sunlight streaming in through the huge windows in the front. Though colder in the evenings and at night, Chan lived at the foot of the hill where it was comparatively warmer for most part of the day and his house always received a good spot of the sun during afternoons.

Minho takes a swig from his cup, letting out a sigh of satisfaction when the cold drink hits the right spots and pushes the box towards Chan.

“I brought you some food, guessed you could use some when I heard you’ve been ordering takeout for three days straight.”

Chan eagerly unwraps the bundled knot to find a huge wooden lunch box sitting within.

“Thanks a lot Minho, your mom sent this?”

“Nope, I made it.”

“You did?!”

Minho scoffed at the look of surprise on Chan’s face and he worried he might have offended him in some way, but before he could apologise, Minho cut in.

“Yeah, I went to culinary school and know how to cook now, surprise!”

If anything, all the new information was only slightly overwhelming to Chan who was still getting used to his old friend’s presence again in his childhood home. It was reminiscent and nostalgic.

“That’s great! We should…we should catch up some day, there’s so much I want to talk about.”

“I’m sure there is,” Minho smiles and Chan can place him again in his memories of a sixteen year old nerdy boy with a shy smile and glasses, “I would love to as well. You should come over to Kim’s Diner, it’s on the top of the hill. I work there now.”

“Hey, I remember Kim’s Diner. Wow, you work there now…that’s just…wow.”

Minho laughs again at his friend’s disbelief. It was fascinating how much had changed in the past few years and yet, now that they sat here chatting and catching up, it was easy as always to laugh and smile in each other’s presence.

“So…culinary school huh? I always thought you would either end up majoring in CS or performing arts maybe. Not that it’s not good, I just mean, you know…you were always inclined towards those.”

Minho contemplates the question for a while, leaning back on his palms and stretching his toes in the sunlight. Chan takes the time to gaze at him more; he really has changed so much. His naturally black hair was dyed a dark midnight blue now, falling gracefully across his eyes that were bereft of the glasses he had been so used to. His hands are more callused and the veins visible, posture so much more mature and confident. Lee Minho had grown up so well, and a surge of pride flowed through Chan at the sight. He was happy for the man Minho had become and proud of him even though he didn’t know all that was to know yet. But that was okay, they will catch up gradually. Yet, there was no doubt Chan would only feel more proud of his friend.

“I guess I didn’t see it coming either. It just sort of happened. I think I met Seungmin around that time and he may have hinted that I could make some real use of this talent. The rest is sort of history.”

“Seungmin?” Chan asks, not missing the fond smile on Minho’s face.

“My boyfriend.”

“Huh?!”

“Why, is there a problem?” There was a split second of defensiveness to his tone that is not lost on Chan but he'll be damned if Chan made the impression of being against it.

“I mean! I don’t care if you date boys…I mean I care of course, but like– not as in…it’s not a problem, not that I consider it one! I just meant that you– that…”

Minho cocks a brow at his friend, stifling the laughter bubbling up his chest at the way Chan’s ears grew hot and red and the man basically stuttered his way through the piece of information.

“It’s just…you keep dropping all this stuff out of nowhere, I’m just surprised. In a good way, I mean!”

With that Minho finally laughs, and it’s only then that Chan can really recognise his friend behind all the changes. The soft tinkle of his voice and the uncontained glee as he almost rolls on the floor. Ah yes, this was Lee Minho indeed – his childhood friend.

Chan cracks a smile, joining in the laughter and sipping iced tea late into the afternoon. They talk a lot, from university to life in the city and the hills and old memories and friends and all the new people in their lives but there’s still so much to uncover and so little time.

It was around half past five when Minho finally stretched on his spot on the floor and sat up.

“I should head back now, I need to start preparing for the dinner shift. Besides, Seungmin’s leaving for Seoul tonight, I promised to spend some time with him.”

“Oh?” Chan remarks, sitting up too from where he had been slouching against the wall, “he’s leaving tonight? I was hoping I could meet him.”

“Oh don’t worry, he’ll be back in a few days. He got invited to a teaching camp for extra credits and he intends to go. You know Shinha University in the next town? He works there as a TA.” Minho says with some pride.

Chan nods in acknowledgement, walking Minho to the door where the latter struggles to wear his shoes standing up, eliciting an amused chuckle from him.

“Hyung, you should come to the diner tomorrow. I’ll treat you to a meal and…you can also meet (y/n).”

For the first time since the afternoon, Minho had almost cautiously let your name slip into the conversation. He would like to think it sneaky of him, but the stunned look on Chan’s face almost made him feel guilty for not mentioning your earlier.

Chan on the other hand simply stood and stared at Minho who met his gaze sheepishly.

“(y/n) is…still here?”

Minho nods, shoving his hands inside his pocket.

“Oh. I guess I could drop by sometime this week.”

Biting his lips, Minho contemplates his next words carefully, trying to decipher what the smile on Chan’s face meant and whether he had crossed the line or not. When it seemed like Chan wasn’t upset at him, he ventures to say:

“We all missed you, you know? And…(y/n) had a bit of a hard time after you left,” taking a deep breath, he confesses, “but you’re back now so…so maybe we could all catch up.”

Breathlessly, Chan nods with a clenched jaw. He forces himself to keep smiling though his chest has suddenly started weighing down on him. He knows that Minho probably didn’t mean to keep your being here a secret, but just the minuscule realisation that he had waited until he was leaving made him wonder whether this had been the intent of his visit after all. Regardless, the soft undertone to his words was not lost on him and he was thankful to Minho for letting him know.

“We will Minho, I promise. I just gotta…figure some stuff out and then I can face my past I guess.” A light chuckle follows his statement and Minho smiles, tight lipped.

Chan bids him a good night and stands on his porch, staring at Minho’s back till it grows smaller the further he walks away. The sun was already touching the tip of the mountains by the time he retreated into his house, picking up the empty glasses and placing them in the sink.

Though for a moment Chan wanted to believe he could carry on with a few more chores before night fell, he doesn’t let himself feel too bad when he retires into his room and flops down on the mattress with a thump.

Closing his eyes, he drifts into a slumber, gulping down the thoughts of facing his past and a certain someone who kept plaguing his mind all night.

FIVE – MINT AND NICOTINE.

When Chan had left right after graduating high school, a part of him had also been sad regardless of the exciting prospect of a new life awaiting him.

He had to ultimately leave his friends behind and too many memories that had been a part of him since childhood. He felt like he was trying to bury their existence by leaving and it filled him up with immense guilt at the thought.

Yet, perhaps the most heartbreaking part would have been your muffled sobs against his chest, your hot tears falling into his red scarf and soaked up into a wet patch. He might have shed some tears too, but in his grief stricken mind, he had been too concerned with your sobs that had threatened to wrench his heart and tear it in two.

You had known, even then, that Chan would leave one day; that this sedentary lifestyle would never suit him and there lay your varying personalities. All you knew, and accounted it to therefore, was that he had always been a restless person. Always looking to do something all the time.

Sitting and merely observing like you, was not a glove he fit into. Always volunteering for events, the first one to suggest dragging you around town during your breaks against your protests which were laughed off with a promise of a fun time. You didn’t want a fun time; you wanted to stay home and sleep in till well past noon and spend the remaining of your day reading. Chan wanted nothing more than to be the one to teach you how to swim.

It was a fateful summer. Eventful, mostly for him. While you spluttered in four feet water, he swam past you in obnoxious strokes, splashing your face with more water. It enraged you, and yet you didn’t just up and leave, fumed at him maybe but he took it all in stride.

You wonder why he stuck by you, you used to have such an awful temper, even you wouldn’t want to spend time with yourself.

But Chan was driven by his restlessness, his enigmatic soul if you may. You may have learnt to float and master the front stroke at the cost of many a gleeful and not-so-peaceful days, but watching Chan glide in the pool like a fish, as if it were his natural habitat, was a reward in itself. It was peaceful too, simply sitting with your feet dipped in water while he bobbed up and down in the water gracefully.

Unaffiliating yourself from the constant presence of the boy you had grown used to had been more difficult for you than you had ever thought it to be. You tried not to mind too much when your phone never rang and no new messages popped up either. You were already easing yourself into the realisation that Chan had indeed forgotten about you.

For a fact, it seemed to have been of some consolation when you found out that Minho has lost all contact with Chan too. It definitely hurt significantly less, but you both grieved the distance together.

You supposed, and accepted eventually, that this was part of life. Of friends who would come and go – some would stay and some would leave, the pain will be there, s bit of regret of not being able to protect those relations, but in the end you would have to swallow it like a bitter pill and make do with what you had.

Except, it had been so hard for someone like you. University had not treated you well, if anything it had been like a huge blow across your face. Where once you had certainly been a part of the above average crowd, you had faced the wrath of being placed even below decent performance and gradually let yourself believe that it was all you would sum up to be.

Minho had kept you company, been there when you were feeling at your lowest and held your shoulders shaking with your sobs in his arms when you finally broke down. He had assured you that you were no less, nor would you ever be so, if you decided to give up. People made the wrong choices all the time, there was no need to beat yourself up over it no matter how much you justified yourself for it.

You dropped out and Minho loved you the same. Things were okay; you were okay.

Chan had become a distant part of your memory by then. Relationships were not a part of your life and the more you floundered in an unknown place, the thinner the strings connecting you to people became until they finally snapped and you were left quite alone. You embraced this life as best as you could and did what you could. You worked whatever small jobs you could, learnt a little bit of cooking from Minho and stacked away all your hard work to get into uni in a closet you never opened; what was it worth anyway when it got you nowhere in the end.

You had not planned out your entire life and it had played to your advantage. You didn’t feel as disappointed in things as you would have earlier because you didn’t expect things to follow a predetermined path.

There was so much to say about this matter, but who really wants to wallow in disappointment? There were still moments in your life when you would wake up with a heavy heart and an empty mind. Days like those would be harder to see through, every move you made pulling on your muscles and tugging you down under their heavy weight. You would want to cry and yet find yourself unable to. There would be no meaning to why you did what you did, an urge to find out what would happen if you stopped doing those things and a desire to sleep for a long, long time.

Yet you would sit at night in an empty house, curled into yourself and find that you were incapable of doing anything. You would wait for the next day to arrive and the clock would tick ever so painstakingly slow.

So when you found yourself facing the blonde boy, tall and broad with kind brown eyes you had once drowned in looking at you, the ghost of the past you didn’t even realise had lurked within you was suddenly coming back to life without a warning, that it left you breathless.

You felt your head being dunk underwater, cold and dark liquid enveloping you as you struggled to resurface and gulp the air greedily.

Minho had dragged you, against your protests after a long and tiring day, to the community hall where a meeting was supposedly about to start promptly at eight in the evening.

So far, most of the townsfolk that had arrived had managed to snag the front seats, leaving you, Minho and Felix to grab ones in the middle. They were good spots, hidden behind people so Minho could make fun of whatever new agenda was going to be discussed and not get caught snickering. You don’t understand why Minho forces himself to sit in these meetings when he doesn’t even pay attention, but you’ve found it’s his way of relaxing after a long day and part of the reason is because he gets to hang around town before finally heading home.

Initially it had been because of Seungmin, their cat and mouse bickering, quite the talk of the town, and under a very teasing confrontation from you and Felix, Minho had given away his little growing crush on the boy he had referred to as his ‘arch enemy’.

The three of you wait while chatting, Minho texting on his phone and you can only assume it’s Seungmin, waiting for the town head to arrive along with everybody else. He seemed to be running late, because soon the large hall filled up with people until there’s practically no more seats left.

It has been two days since you last saw Chan.

Well, you’ve seen him since then, but never gone up to him or started a conversation. You had almost bumped into him at the grocery store, but quickly retreated in your steps to avoid him. There had suddenly been too much Chan in your life, even though you had only seen him a couple of times since he last showed up at your workplace, and it had left you feeling confused and weird at having his familiar face pop up in a place as mundane and everyday as your local grocery store.

Quite frankly, you wouldn’t like to ponder upon the reason for doing so because you already know it arises from a place of pettiness and of an urge to make him taste his own medicine. Minho though, as you had gathered from the boy himself, had met up with Chan on more than one occasion since he last came to the diner. Though he had not raised any questions on your part since you largely avoided talking to him about Chan, he had been unable to keep you out of his conversations with the said boy since he had been so keen on asking about you every time they met.

Chan’s arrival back to your hometown had been weighing on your mind since forever. To you, his existence had become a strongly pronounced obstruction in your day to day life. You worried he would pop into the diner again and you almost anticipated it, you had nearly given in to Minho’s invitation to go down to his house.

Oh god, his house. You had more than enough memories of his house stored away in your mind, it almost made you sick with its overwhelming presence made known to you.

The seat next to you suddenly creaks when someone sits on it, your attention turning towards the source and you find yourself staring directly at the source of your worrying mind.

Chan smiles at you softly and you almost choke on your spit when you notice his newly dyed black hair and the small silver hoops in his ears.

“Hey (y/n), long time,” he offers you a small wave before greeting Minho.

“It’s been two days,” you resist the urge to roll your eyes, shifting ever so slightly towards Minho who was seated beside you. Chan notices, masking the sudden heaviness in his heart with a pursed smile, but doesn’t point it out.

“Chan, this is Felix, another helping hand at the diner and my junior at culinary school.” Minho speaks up, introducing Chan to the younger boy who smiles at him brightly while you sit stone faced in the middle of it all.

“Hey, nice to meet you, I’m–”

“Bang Chan, I know,” Felix smiles warmly and you can attest to the fact that Chan likes him immediately by the way he grins and his dimples appear, “I’ve heard a lot about you from Minho. He couldn’t stop talking about you, you’re like an idol to him or something.”

Minho turns red while Chan laughs shyly, the former smacking Felix on the head who retorts with an “you do!” and sticks out his tongue.

While Minho and Felix bicker, Chan smiles and turns his attention to you, about to say something when the huge doors to the hall suddenly opens and the town head walks in to loud protests from the people complaining about being kept waiting for too long. You glance at your wristwatch and sure enough, it was twenty minutes past eight.

You try your best to ignore the presence by your side and listen to the man talk – something about the annual spring festival still three months away – but it’s admittedly hard to do so when Minho and Felix keep snickering beside you like five year olds at a church and Chan’s cologne and the nicotine disguised under breath mints ever too present in your nose. You want to ingrain this scent in your memory but at the same time hold your breath till you choke and die.

Chan suddenly leans towards you, his lips close to your ears and whispers.

“Are town meetings usually this long?”

You nod at him and pretend to listen attentively to people now raising questions and concerns like they did in every meeting to discuss whether the town needed any new facilities or not.

Chan was a lot of things; he had been a lot of things. To you it was the strong smell of chlorine and the cheap aftershave he used to disguise the smell of the bleach. It was a mild odour of sweat mingling with those two scents and the freshly washed laundry detergent on his clothes. And if he leaned a bit closer, just to annoy you or tease you, then the slightest whiff of his papaya shampoo.

Realising now that he didn’t smell anything like that anymore, it makes you shudder at the revelation of the mint concealing the nicotine. Change must have been so drastic for him, that you could no longer find a place in your memories where he fit. He was gone, the youth from him was gone, long ditched in a puddle of illusion where things were still bright and days were pleasantly sunny and the world smelt like fresh rain on earth. The boyish glimmer was lost from his eyes, sucked deep by the void behind them.

Your own body itches under your clothes, the smell of soap and oil so deeply ingrained in your skin after your entire day at the diner, you’re almost certain he can smell it too.

However awkward you felt in your own skin right now, it was nothing compared to the obvious attempt Chan was making at conversing with you and your blatant refusal to offer him that, yet, it didn’t seem like Chan had any intentions of dropping the opportunity of a conversation.

“Are you free tonight? Minho said we might get dinner together after this.”

His voice is still hushed, but you cannot ignore the shiver that passes down your spine every time he leans in, clenching your fingers against the cold metal of your chair.

“Maybe.”

Twiddling his thumbs again, he chews on his bottom lip with a frown on his face. You miss his disappointment since you’ve made it your life’s mission to give your unfiltered attention to the town meeting, something you never thought you would do, but well, people change.

You are graced the chance to drop your hushed conversation when people start chattering around you and with a start you realise that the town meeting is over, everybody scraping their chairs against the floors and leaving in groups while some hang back to talk.

Felix is, thankfully, more than interested in your old friend and swoops down on the opportunity to strike up a conversation with Chan the minute he’s up from his chair; something that Chan obliges him with a lingering gaze that flits towards you. You step to the side with Minho, finding Felix more than capable to keep up a distinct string of chatter all by himself, sharing smiles with Minho at the sight.

“Did you tell Chan about the meeting?” you ask, pulling the scarf around your neck against the cold wind that blows in through the open doors. More and more people start leaving till it’s only a bunch of you who are left behind.

“Yeah, figured he could get out more and re-familiarise with the town.”

You nod at his explanation.

While Chan and Felix are still talking, your phone buzzes in your jeans pocket. Digging around to grab it, you let out a tired sigh at the caller ID. Minho peers at your screen and offers you a tight lipped smile, patting your back sympathetically. You excuse yourself and step out into the cold night to receive it.

“Mom, hi.”

“Hello (y/n), have you had your dinner yet?”

“Not yet, I was at a town meeting.”

“Again? Why do you even waste your time going to those?”

You feel it coming, this is where the conversation changes. And you’re not even four pleasantries in. You resist the urge to sigh yet again.

“Why did you call mom?” you know why she’s called.

“The semester applications are in three months, have you been studying?”

“Mom, I told you, I’m still thinking about it.”

“What in the world is there to think about? You’ve had enough time and I’ve wasted enough money on your hobbies already. Sit for the entrance exams and get into business school. At least get a degree!”

“I’ll think about it.”

“(y/n) please don’t start again, how many times do I have to repeat myself? Do you not care about your education? If you keep thinking now, when are you going to actually do something?”

“How many times do I have to repeat myself…I have no intentions of getting into business school mom, that’s just not for me.”

“Oh, so this is what you’ve been intending since the beginning then? Business school is not for you, you can’t even stick to…was it worth it? Was choosing your hobby as a career path worth it at all (y/n)? What exactly is it that you can do then? Waste your time and money? How are you going to get a job, how will you pay for yourself?”

“I’m doing it just fine right now, if you haven’t already noticed.”

The same shit, over and over again. You really can’t tell at what point of the day you would have to attend to these calls and have your entire day or night ruined.

“I’m tired of fighting with you over this (y/n),” your mom sighs on the other end, “do whatever you want.”

One would think that’s how you find yourself relieved of this matter, but that is exactly how it ends every time before you get another call like a weekly reminder that you are, in fact, not to forget.

“Good night,” you say and promptly cut the call. You’ll have to hear about this the next time she calls.

Taking in a long breath, you shut your eyes when you feel the prick of tears behind them. You could simply pay no heed to this and let it go, but you know you will overthink and you will definitely let it ruin your mood. The heaviness embedded in your muscles starts creeping up again and you find yourself, for a moment, panicking that your limbs will give away on the streets and you’ll fall down.

You hear the faint voices of your friends approaching and sniffle, blinking your eyes rapidly so the tears don’t fall. Instead, you feel the familiar weight like a pot of water quickly filling up, slithering its way into your head, a headache that will have settled by the time you reach home tonight.

Minho is the first to come stand beside you, gently pressing his arm against yours in a silent comfort. You wish he wouldn’t; it only makes it harder not to cry.

“We’re getting dinner down at Condiments, what do you say (y/n)?” Felix’s cheerfulness is lost on you. All you can focus on is the heaviness in your heart and your pounding head.

“Umm…I think I will skip.” you reply, causing Chan to look at you in concern. To be fair, you might be good at hiding your feelings, yet sometimes you cannot help but let it affect your mood. Right now, you know by the worried glance from Felix, that you were most certainly not doing a good job at concealing your distress.

“Everything okay?” Felix immediately moves to you, looping his arms through yours with a concerned pout.

You smile assuringly, not having it in you to let on that you were most certainly not fine right now.

“I’m okay Lix, just…got a headache and I’m tired. I’ll walk back home, y’all go get some dinner. I’ll join next time, I promise.”

“Okay,” Felix is convinced, you know that. In fact, you don’t feel half as bad for lying since you practically were telling the truth. You let him hug you before waving to Minho and nodding towards Chan before you start walking uphill.

“Wait,” Chan calls out from behind, making you turn in your tracks. Felix and Minho watch curiously as he approaches you.

“Let me walk you home? It’s late and–”

“Thanks Chan, but it’s alright, I walk home alone all the time, there’s nothing to be worried about. Besides, I live uphill and you live down here. It will only waste your time going up and down.”

“But–”

“I will be alright,” at this point you’re merely trying to convince yourself of the same, “I’ll see you…when I see you.”

Chan for sure is not convinced as easily as Felix. He may have missed four years being absent from your life, but he knows the signs of dismay on your face when he sees it even now. You may very well be tired and have a headache, but it still concerned him to see your gloomy expression. If you’re actively trying to avoid him right now though…

“Are you really fine? You don’t need any medicines for your headache? If it’s too bad then I can–”

“Chan,” you are firmer this time, smiling at him with a pained expression and a frustration poorly disguised under your breaking resolve of fighting your tears, “I am fine.”

Chan stands his ground for a moment in silence, inadvertently upset and slightly hurt that you were doing your best to push him away. He knows though, he cannot fight you on this; he has no rights. It’s only when Minho clutches his arm from behind does he relent.

“It’s alright Chan, (y/n)’s used to walking home alone and it’s not particularly dangerous either.”

You shoot Minho a thankful look.

“Okay,” Chan lets go, “you will let us know when you’ve reached home, right?”

“I will text Minho,” you promise, hurriedly agreeing to do whatever so long as you can finally leave.

“Okay then…get home safe.”

“I will. Good night guys, enjoy your dinner!”

A chorus of good-nights ring back and without sparing Chan another look, you walk away, alone with your thoughts and your drumming head.

SIX – PINE TEA, BURNT TONGUE.

Coming back to the hills has so far proven to be a good decision, as far as a healthy lifestyle goes.

Chan often finds himself waking up with the sun, even without an alarm, he would be up and about by at least eight in the morning and compared to sleeping in till after noon or not getting enough sleep at all, he preferred this. But on days that he would sleep way past noon, he wouldn’t wake up feeling anxious about the lost time at all.

He has also finally managed to clean the house, the strain in his muscles lasting for a few days for which he covered himself in pain relief patches, but otherwise it has been a fruitful journey. All that remains now is to set up his equipment in his old room. Though he’s out here on a break from life itself, he can never truly give up on the joys of his hobby-turned-career path. He almost never steps out without his camera when he’s wandering in the town, capturing the most mundane things and preserving the beauty in either his digital camera or in 8 mm films.

In the little time he had been back, Chan had taken over a hundred photos already. He didn’t believe in capturing everything visible to the eyes like some sort of maniac, but he also did not have anything against preserving memories.

It’s how he lived – through moments frozen in time, perhaps the only way he saw his little reign over life – by capturing them in films. It was his own solace, his peace of mind; something he could always come back to no matter how much the world around him changed. He would always have that piece of memory only he saw, something that would most likely change ten years down the line and he would look back on an old piece of glossy paper and be reminded of the world he had seen all those years ago.

This particular morning is not the most refreshing though. Last night had been a fun time indeed with Minho and Felix, catching up and recounting stories and exchanging more with Felix as a new friend. As promised, you had texted Minho when you reached home and that was all he had heard from and of you last night.

You had not ceased to plague his mind though, even long after he had bid goodnight to the others and walked back home. He had stayed up quite a while, slouched against his pillows, swiping through his collection of photos in the dark, the screen illuminating his face.

He had worried too for most part that the reason you left last night could have been him, because though you might have told him you weren’t avoiding him, the incident from his grocery store run kept replaying in his mind on loop.

He had definitely caught you rushing away from him but had decidedly not confronted you about it. What if you really were uncomfortable around him? If so, then he had promised not to bother you again, except, he just wasn’t sure whether he would be able to stay away from you much longer.

He’s reminded of the first time you met after so much time had passed, that day in the diner. You were wearing a thin sweater and your hair was in a mess like you were harried, serving and helping out in the kitchen. You had not cracked a smile then at first, staring at him wide eyed, and his first thought had been of how much you had grown up. How beautiful you had suddenly become.

Your cheeks were flushed with all the rushing about, strings of hair framing your naked face and he could tell that age and maturity had favoured you in all the right places even through your winter attire.

The thought makes him burn, his mind momentarily distracted at the very sight of you imprinted in his memory like all the pictures he captures. It’s not until late that sleep finally takes over him, but it’s a restless slumber that he tosses and turns through.

In the morning he’s met with a tourmaline sky, splotches of tissue like clouds splattered across as the sunlight filters through his windows. It was sunny and bright today and Chan squinted up at the sky through his window, rubbing his tired eyes as he lay basking in the January warmth that spread through his bones, toes curling up underneath the sheets.

Outside he hears the birds chirp in contrast to the constant honking and cars like in the city, and the air is filled with the sweet scent of pine and cyprus. Inhaling deeply, Chan feels like he must be in heaven.

His morning routine is unrushed and he takes his sweet time preparing breakfast and eating out on the verandah under the January sun above the hills, the rays of light bespeckling his skin in warm patches that danced with the trees in the gentle wind. It was a quiet meal and Chan was, for once, not planning his entire day out in his mind, though he did have a rough idea of how he might want to spend his day.

His phone pings with a message; it’s from his mom.

mom: morning son, don’t know if you’re up already, but this is your reminder to have a good day

The smile on Chan’s face is instant, he can’t help the little leap of joy in his chest at the sight.

mom: this is also a reminder to check your smoking habit

A small chuckle passes through his lips before he replies.

me: morning, your favourite son is already up. and he says he’s trying really hard to keep his smoking in check

mom: tell my favourite son (his words) to try harder

me: this is all dad’s fault you know?

mom: your mom is giving me the stink eye now, why did you have to say that to her - dad

Chan laughs in amusement, knowing that the last message was sent in good spirits and as a joke.

me: morning dad, hope you’re treating mom well!

mom: he is darling, don’t you worry about us. are you having a good time there?

me: yeah, it’s all pretty nostalgic and stuff, but i enjoy every day here. even went to a town meeting last night and grabbed dinner with minho. you remember him don’t you?

mom: town meetings! it’s been a while since i’ve heard of those. of course i remember minho…he was a darling boy back then. how is he?

me: he’s good, it was fun catching up. i also met (y/n)

mom: oh. how are they? last we heard before moving out was their father passing away…must have been hard all this time.

Chan blinks down at the message in surprise. He did not know that.

me: their dad passed away??

mom: yes, didn’t you know? it was cancer, i believe i might have mentioned this before.

Sucking in a breath, Chan finds it incredibly hard to process this piece of information. It was like a sudden dump of emotions and his stomach curled at the revelation. His mom definitely did not mention this, there was no way he would have filtered this kind of news away like it was nothing.

me: i don’t think you did, i would have remembered…

mom: oh channie…i’m sorry, we were probably too busy with all the packing and moving back then, we only heard in passing.

me: it’s okay, not your fault

mom: do drop by at (y/n)'s and give my best regards. let me know how they’re doing okay?

me: will do mom

After a few more messages about his day, he bids his mom goodbye and tosses the phone aside. Shutting his eyes, the very first person to come to his mind is you, a resounding pang in his chest when he’s reminded of your father too. He had never spent much time around your family, in fact, you had always been the one to come over at his place majority of the time and he had only met your parents once in a while during annual school meets or sometimes during the town festivals as a child. As it so happened, your parents were never around much, both busy with work as you often told him. Still, he remembered your father, and he had always seemed a good, kind man.

Why had Minho not mentioned anything to him about this? Sure, you did creep into the conversation snow and then, but even so, every time Chan brought you up, it’s like Minho tried to safeguard you and let on as little as possible.

Nibbling his lips, he sits and ponders whether he should ask Minho about this, even retrieving his phone to text him about it but in the end concedes. Maybe Minho had not deemed it his place to tell him.

Deciding that he would listen to his mom and drop by at your place, from what he knows you still live in your old home, he spends the next hour or so doing small chores like washing the dishes and getting ready for the morning.

He’s out of the house not long after, showered and refreshed and surprisingly ready to face the day. With his camera bag slung across his shoulder, he makes his way on foot around town, exploring some of the older shops lining the hillsides under tarpaulin covers, fresh steamed bread and hot noodle shops already open and catering to people.

Chan doesn’t stop much, only lingering enough to familiarise himself with the market place which was always seemingly buzzing with people and cheerful chatter. He makes his way up the hill, pulling up his hoodie to cover his head as he walks under the gradually thickening canopies of trees above him. The road leading up becomes narrower and fewer people lurk about, only some tourists who stop by the road to take photos.

Chan doesn’t use his camera till he’s way up higher, simply walking through the pine scent till he reaches a small hilltop that overlooks the town below. Colourful buildings nestled between sloping lush greenery, the roads snaked around the town in smooth curves. He can spot the community centre and the restaurant he had dinner last night at. The market place is the most lively place at this time of the day, strings of flags strung across the semi marketplace flapping in the wind. It was like a small community tucked away from the rest of the world. At one further end of the town, a tall blue tower rises up and immediately Chan is hit by nostalgic memories.

Almost instinctively, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes, lighting one up and exhaling deeply. He reminds himself that 9 in the morning is too early for this, but the optimist that he is, he’s also inclined to wave it off with ‘it’s midnight somewhere’.

He turns sentimental the more he looks at the lone tower visible behind a cluster of hills. It’s his high school and upon seeing it after so many years, he almost missed going to that place.

His hometown was not such a huge place afterall. Most people knew each other here after spending so many years in the same place, but there was also the never changing map of this tiny town that losing yourself here was practically an impossible task even if you want to do it on purpose. Everything was etched out like permanent ink, Chan still remembered all the prime locations of his childhood here like the back of his hand.

In a way it might have been the reason he left too, an aspect of waking up to the same thing every day had been his drive to leave this place but the city had been no different either. Chan was slowly starting to realise that now.

He takes in another puff of the stick, now dangling between his lips before dropping it on the ground and squashing it with his feet, guiltily reminded of his mother’s text this morning and his promise to her.

Shoving his hands inside the pocket of his hoodie he strolls aimlessly along without a destination in mind. He’s aware that only a few shops and restaurants dot the top of the mountain, he’s vaguely aware that there’s a few more clearings along the way and your house was somewhere there. He does remember you having to walk a long way down to school and complain about it often to him.

Soon enough, he reaches a smaller path branching out from the main road to the side. He takes the rocky path, edges lined with wild grass and strewn with stray pine cones, a flatter piece of land leading off to a bunch of bakeries and small cafes.

It's almost like a small chunk of hill had been cut off to create an alcove, small vintage shops huddled together and the scent of fresh bread and ground coffee wafting in the air like a sweet aroma.

Chan has had his fair share of cafes working in one himself and though he had been sick of the smell of coffee for a while, here, out in the open and so far away from the city, he almost didn't mind it.

He stops for a moment and takes a few pictures, the colourful vibrant roofs of red, blue and yellows catching his eyes as he squats to capture this seemingly fairytale come to life picture. Everything in the mountains was just automatically magical.

He's drawn to a tiny little cafe with a sloping blue roof tucked away further back against a huge rocky wall.

The wind chime tinkles against the gentle breeze above Chan who peers inside from the big window in the front with blue frames. The cafe is almost empty except for a few people scattered about on huge wicker seats.

There's no bell to notify you when a customer enters, just the loud creak of the door, which can be a bit alarming as you've often mentioned to the cafe owner.

You're at the counter scrolling through your phone when you hear the door opening, immediately shutting your phone and smiling at the customer.

"Welcome, how can we help–"

Oh. It's Chan.

"–you?"

Chan seems to be equally as surprised to see you here; he thought you worked at the diner. Nevertheless, he returns your smile.

"Hi," he greets, approaching you at the counter, "I didn't know you worked here."

"I don't, just here to cover for a friend."

You do sometimes pick up shifts here when you’re free of your duties at the diner. It’s more of a casual workplace for some extra cash and since it’s never too crowded, the employment criteria is not too rigid. You help out once in a while when the tourist season is at its peak and extra hands are required. As it so happened, January usually serves as a gradual ease into the rush, with a couple dozen or so customers always coming in for a warm drink and a cozy place to relax and read a book. By March, the tourist count increases and that is when you find yourself financially more stable. You are therefore quite dependent on the tourism sector. Right now, you're covering for Seungmin who won't be back till next week, and you could definitely make do with the cash.

"What can I get you?" you ask, waiting for Chan to look over at the menu and decide. While he examines the laminated display on the counter, you watch him quietly nibbling on his lips, the rings in his ears dangling gently when he moves, the smell of smoke nestling under your nose again. You dislike it but you can't bring yourself to look away until he turns to you with a sheepish smile and wide eyes.

"Umm…it's a bit hard to decide," he chuckles and the noise settles in your bones like a warm shiver, "there's too many to choose from. What would you recommend?"

Startled by the sudden question, you stare at him sceptically as if he had just asked you to do something unreasonable.

"You want me to recommend something to you?" You point at yourself as if to make sure for certain.

Chan nods with a smile, leaning against the counter for your opinion.

Licking your lips, you scan through the menu even though you remember everything by heart. It's just that, you can't bring yourself to meet his stare.

"Do you want a hot drink or something cold?" You question, glancing at him briefly to find him still staring. God, you hope you're not flushed.

"I would prefer something warm, but wouldn't mind if you recommend a cold drink either."

His smile again, the stupid upturn of his full lips and the tiny dimple on his cheek. You dislike it so very much. You don't even dare to meet his eyes, the brown in your memory too haunting even to this day.

"Then I'd recommend the pine tea. It's aromatic and light. I could get you some mushroom bread rolls with those or do you still not like mushrooms–"

You halt in your speech, eyes flickering up to his like a deer caught in headlights. Upon seeing him blinking back, you immediately start spluttering out an apology.

"S-sorry, I don't know why I said that…I shouldn't have assumed–"

"It's okay," Chan cuts you off hastily with a wave of his hand, "you didn't assume anything, it's fine!"

"Oh…oh, okay. I…so do you want to get something with your tea or just…?"

You trail off in embarrassment, every second a new word that falls off your lips feels like a shovel digging at your own grave. You should probably shut up right about now.

"Oh…oh yeah. Umm, anything without mushrooms," he claims, rubbing his neck with a nervous chuckle, "what about the orange loaf cake? Sounds delicious."

"Orange loaf cake, right. Good choice, it'll go well with the pine tea. I'll get you your order then, why don't you take a seat," you gesture at one of the empty tables by the window.

Chan obliges, nodding his head and taking a seat while you scurry into the pantry to get the tea leaves.

Inside the dark cool room, you take a moment to let out a breath you hadn't even realised you were holding in, leaning your head against one of the shelves, the cool wood like a comforting balm across your skin.

You just keep making a fool out of yourself in front of him. He's just an old friend, why does he affect you this way?!

The tea Chan receives is instantly aromatic, the gentle scent of pine and a savoury pinch of cinnamon in it making him look forward to the drink.

You place the steaming cup in front of him along with a plate of sliced bread, slightly warm and golden in texture. Chan feels his mouth watering though it hasn't been that long since he had had his breakfast.

"Umm," you hesitate, glancing at the box of cigarettes on the table, "there is a no smoking policy in here so…"

For all you know you could have said that just because you hated the sight of it, he could have very well just placed them on the table without any intention to smoke them inside. Your brain really wasn't in sync with your mouth today and you were regretting every second of it.

Chan follows your eyes, immediately flushing and pocketing the box, crumpling it almost as he hastily shoved it into his pocket.

"Of course, I don't smoke a lot. I mean, I do, but I won't right now. I work at a cafe too, I mean I used to, of course I know there's a no smoking policy–"

Chan doesn't finish his statement, feeling a rush of heat along his neck as if he had just been called out. He vividly remembers the red text of caution stating cigarettes causing cancer and nearly facepalms.

"Okay well, glad you know," nice save, you're doing a great job, "enjoy your meal then. Let me know if you want anything else."

With that you're gone by his side back to your place behind the counter where you immediately bury your nose into your phone, willing the heat in your cheeks to go away without fanning yourself.

Chan takes a large sip of his tea in a hurry to hide his face when you glance up at him and your eyes meet, scalding his tongue in the process and it takes him his all to not curse out loud. He stuffs a large piece of bread in his mouth to soothe the burn.

What an absolute mess.

SEVEN – IT MUST BE NICE.

Seungmin had texted you at night, a flurry of apologies and making up to you with dinner when he came back, and he was so flustered, he had completely forgotten to mention the reason for this impromptu travesty.

When you had pointed it out, it had only prompted another tirade of apologies and eventually you had ended up calling him. You were in your bed, showered and with an ache in your limbs that came with a long satisfied day.

“(y/n)? Oh my god, I’m so sorry–”

“Seungmin, stop apologising,” you had smiled, shuffling in your bed under the blankets, “how’ve you been?”

“I-what? Oh, yeah, I’ve been good.” he had sounded genuinely surprised at your inquiry, as if he hadn’t even thought you would ever ask him something like that.

“That’s good, how’s your workshop?”

“It’s fine, doable certainly. There’s a lot of interesting things, and I’m hoping to sign up for a few more non-credit courses because they honestly sound really amazing and I think I might be able to squeeze in a few after my credit classes.”

That was Seungmin for you, always the one who loved to learn and cram his breaks with a truckload of workshops and seminars, citing that he didn’t have enough time to attend them during the academic year, what with his classes at university. Your group was proud of him and all his achievements, but you were also concerned with his health.

He had just completed his teaching degree and was working as a TA in Shinha University, which was an hour away by train. You both had initially bonded over your shared interest in books and when you had told him that you had got into university for your bachelors in journalism, he had instantly clicked with you, having pursued journalism as well and then getting his B.Ed.

Seungmin had never been invasive of your reason to drop out, always keeping a polite flow in your conversations without sounding demeaning.

“Wow,” you remark, smiling into your pillow at his ramble, “does Minho know about this?”

“Does Minho know that I’m sleeping three hours a day?

“Jesus, Seungmin!”

“I know,” he groans on the other end of the line, “I couldn’t help it. Please don’t tell Minho, he will go batshit crazy.”

You can already imagine Minho getting upset, except, when it came to Seungmin and his ridiculously well planned but jam packed academic calendar, Minho tended to channel all that anger into making extra efforts at taking care of the younger boy. They would call this their freeze-zone, which lasted about eleven days at maximum – Minho would be all quiet and calm, not necessarily ignoring Seungmin, but neither did he acknowledge his lifestyle in high regards. Seungmin would also be quiet, but follow Minho around like an apologetic puppy, trying to make amends.

It would always end with a hug. And if you were unfortunate enough, then you would catch them in the kitchen after closing hours in the diner, making out heatedly. Then you would want to bleach your eyes.

Regardless, and you really had no other way to describe what they had as cute. They had a healthy relationship, as far as you knew, with their ups and downs, but they were tight. And it made you happy to watch them be happy with each other.

“Okay, I won’t tell him, but he’s gonna find out anyway,” you sigh.

“I know, I’ll be the one to tell him anyway. It’s like he’s got this sixth sense when it comes to these things you know, until last year I was convinced either you or Felix were tattling to him.”

“Hey, have some faith in us!”

“I do now.”

You can hear the smile in his voice and chuckle.

“So, what is it you were apologising to me about?”

“Oh. Right, so I've been working under Professor Lee for my research paper for a while."

You nod even though he can't see you, listening carefully.

"He’s been looking for an assistant for the new semester, and…please don’t get mad okay, but I may have told him about you. I told him you were pursuing your journalism bachelors…”

Sucking in a breath, you groan at the insinuation.

“Seungmin–”

“I swear I didn’t put you down or anything, I didn’t even tell him the reason you dropped out. It’s just…I thought you might want to check out the work at least.”

“That’s…that’s kind of Seungmin, it really is. I’m just not sure if I’m qualified enough.”

“You really think so? You almost completed your degree (y/n), you were going to graduate.”

“You know, you’re starting to sound awfully like my mom,” you mumble.

“(y/n)...you know I didn’t mean any harm.”

“I know Seungmin, I know…”

Which is why this was even more difficult for you. Seungmin’s been of immense help to you ever since you met. He’s got you to write for an anonymous column in their University paper a couple of times and though you had agreed, you had rejected the offer to become a regular in their columns. As much as Minho had been adamantly loyal to your decision of dropping out, Seungmin had his own gentle way of nudging you to pick up your pen again.

“What’s wrong (y/n), I know you want more than what you have right now.”

You detest the bitterness of his truth, the way it swirls around you in green coils and makes you sick. You do want more, but in the crevices of your bones laden heavy with the lead of your self proclaimed worth, you know you shouldn’t. You can’t want more, not when there’s better people out there.

“Seungmin I…I don't know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, just sleep on it yeah? But if you agree, and no pressure there, then let me know and I’ll set you up a meeting with the professor. Okay?”

“Okay…” you reluctantly agree. You’ll sleep on it for sure, but you lack the assurance of a positive response. Maybe Seungmin senses it too, apologising again.

“Don’t apologise really, I should be thankful that you’re looking out for me.”

“Of course I am, that’s what friends do.”

Your head weighs down on the soft pillows, tears stinging your eyes in the darkness of your room.

“Yeah. Thanks a lot Seungmin, I appreciate it. I really do.”

You hope the way you force out your words is enough to let him know exactly how much this means to you even though you can never put it in enough words.

“Anytime (y/n). Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight.”

Guilt fills you up almost instantaneously when the call drops with a click from the other side. Looking back on the conversation, you detested how quickly you had compared Seungmin to your mother when all he had done was look out for you. Confusion and frustration diffuses through your guilt right after; were you a hypocrite because you felt guilty when it was a friend who looked after you and not when your mother did? Wasn’t she also just looking out for you?

You don’t find it in yourself to remove the phone from your ear, fingers loosening their hold against the device till the screen blacks out.

Left alone with your thoughts, you find the sleep behind your eyes slowly disappearing, replaced with a thin layer of tears that fail to escape, instead settling behind like heavy moss, fogging your mind and senses.

The bed feels uncomfortable, but the weight of your limbs tie you down in your place, unmoving against your will and you find the hands of the clock on your bed stand ticking too loudly. Moving your head, your gaze flits across the window on the wall, the tall peaks of hills visible, glowing with the faintest hint of warm orange from the town lights below.

Slowly, as if it ached your very soul to move, you rustle out of your blanket, dragging it along as you trod towards the balcony, curling your toes when your bare feet touch the cold marble flooring. Your flat was small but the balcony was spacious, often your haven on summer days but in the cold January, it leaves you numb. It's admittedly a good feeling, the urge to keep yourself warm by rubbing your arms and pulling the b;anket closer around your frame overtaking the need to think.

The family living below you is still awake, their apartment rings out in cheerful laughter. You can see the shadows moving on the grassy garden illuminated by the light from their windows. They dance like flames in the wind, flitting about aimlessly and chaotically, in tune to the kids yelling and playing around.

It must be nice, you think. You credit the sentiment to their laughter, but you’re unsure of whether there’s a longing behind that thought that popped up without a warning in your mind. What must be nice?

If you lean against the railings, you can catch a small portion of the town which was not hidden being a large clump of trees, twinkling under a starry sky. You hear the distant hubbub of the liveliness if you hold your breath and strain your ears. It must be nice, the voice in your head goes again.

You want to cry. What must be nice?

Why were you here on a Tuesday night, sitting on your cold marble floors wanting to simultaneously scream and cry and throw yourself off a cliff? Why did it feel so insanely morbid to feel so numb and feel so many things at once? Why would your limbs not move and tears not fall no matter how much you willed them to?

Why does this house not feel like a home? What were you so homesick for, a place that did not exist or a place that you had buried so deep in the depths of your tangled memory that retrieving it would cost you your life? Where would you run when you wanted to, how would you know what you’re running from, how long would you have to run?

What was this feeling you were drenched in? Why can’t you comprehend it? How do you get rid of it?

Your phone dings yet again with a notification and you retrieve it from somewhere in the depths of the blanket you had swaddled yourself in. another message from Seungmin.

seungmin: Professor Lee, faculty of Linguistics and Literature Studies, Shinha University. Contact details: xxxxxxxxxx

seungmin: just in case. g’night.

Your wrist tingles uncomfortably and you rub your fingers across it soothingly. It was probably going to rain later. Or soon. Time was merely flitting past but your eyes remained wide open, not a drop of sleep to be expected any time soon.

The shadows on the grass settle down in a dark lump, quiet and peaceful. The lights below lose their glow, dimming into the night one by one as the town falls asleep.

It must be nice, to be able to sleep.

EIGHT – BUTTERFLIES, LOLLIPOPS, SHARED LAUGHS.

The next time Minho texts you about dinner plans, it's with the carefully added notification of expecting Chan's presence too.

You've been entirely too busy with the diner the past few days, that you've managed to avoid another encounter with Chan naturally. You woke up early to prepare for the day and went home late after cleaning up. It was the same for Minho and Felix, and only now do the three of you realise what a great help another helping hand is. You all miss Seungmin.

But the work pays off, and the cafe work is an added bonus to your savings. If anything, at least you're saved from overthinking once you get home all tired and grisly from kitchen duties. You don't have time to worry about little things as much nor the guilt of missing calls from your mom.

It was the gentle plea at the end of Minho’s text, asking you to please join in for at least old friends’ sake that gets you thinking about the whole thing.

It’s not a particularly mind gnawing decision, you simply decide that you don't need to avoid Chan as much. Fine, you definitely did not know where exactly you stood with his reappearance after all these years, but that didn’t mean you were going to be so cold as to continuously turn down these little reunions. Minho had definitely embraced his old friend with welcome arms and tonight he was finally going to meet Seungmin. You did not mind when Minho was open to introducing his life here to your old friend. There’s only so long you could possibly avoid all social interactions as you could keep up with a steady denial to let Chan affect your day to day life.

You text Minho back with a promise to join in on this dinner.

That is how you find yourself sitting in the tented bar, the sizzle of the barbeque and the delectable aroma of fried vegetables wafting in the air and a few too many bottles of beer in front of you, huddled together in a circle around a table.

Felix chats away excitedly, seemingly never at a loss of conversational topics, while Seungmin joins in with Chan. Minho looks after the barbeque, serving the food to everybody once he’s finally done. The first bite is like a doorway to heaven opening up, a bit too hot that you need to blow air before promptly stuffing yourself with more.

You stay quiet for the most part, only replying when someone asks you something, sitting directly opposite Chan and hence obliged to keep looking away when your eyes meet. It’s happened so many times already since you first came that you don’t even bother with the awkward smile anymore, glancing away quickly before downing your glass of beer.

Chan looks extremely good today, even though it doesn’t look like he put in too much effort behind his black hoodie and his usual silver earrings. His hair lays flat, fingers occasionally brushing through his fringes which he keeps straightening out. You really try not to stare, but when you do and catch yourself in the act, you convince yourself that it’s only because you’re trying to memorise this new and older Chan from the younger one with curly hair and unpierced ears.

“Hey, do you remember that time (y/n) got in detention because Chan kept poking them and they yelled at him in the middle of calculus?” Minho points out in the middle of dinner.

Chan laughs at the memory eliciting a fond smile from you too as you look back on that day, it had indeed been the first time you got into any kind of trouble at school and you had cried during your after school detention.

“I was somewhat troublesome back then, wasn’t I? Chan says, grinning at you apologetically but with a happy smile as if he held his mischievous days close to his heart.

“Somewhat?” you question incredulously, “you were quite the troublemaker, honestly how did you get appointed as student council head?!”

The table erupts into giggles and laughter, a surprised Seungmin looking at Chan in awe, finding it equally hard to believe Chan could have ever caused any trouble. You find it easy to laugh along, just old friends reminiscing on good days gone by, leaving behind fragments of floating memories you had to glue back together. It felt like you were teens again at one of your annual dinners after exams were over. It felt good to be here right now, maybe with a broken friendship, but with a sudden jolt you realise that you may have been looking forward to this unknowingly after all, and now that it was here, you were willing to put behind petty regrets and patch things up.

After all, how often will you find a friendship so precious, right? Shouldn’t you appreciate it and let go of the past for the sake of reviving whatever weak flame was flickering now?

A warmth blooms in you when you look around, eyes lingering a little longer on the man in front of you. He notices and tilts his head in question. You smile widely and shake your head and in a long while, Chan finds himself feeling elated as if the sun itself had bloomed inside his chest and was extending its rays all through his body. He has not felt this happy in a while and the sight of your smile directed at him lightens the burden without a source on his shoulders he’s been carrying ever since.

Though in the morning you might try to convince yourself that warming up to Chan had been a consequence of the alcohol in your system, you ease yourself into the light atmosphere and enjoy the moment for as long as it lasts.

Chan and Seungmin get along well, some sort of sibling dynamic forming quickly between the two with comfortable bantering which slowly backfires on Minho who gets teased by the two and turns pouty. You chuckle when he turns to you for help but only gets a pat on the back from you.

Regardless, Seungmin only needs to lean his head on his sulking boyfriend’s shoulder for him to smile sweetly and kiss his cheek. Felix and you pretend to gag at the sight, which is quickly shot down by protests.

“You’re only jealous because you’re both single!” Minho yells over the table, eliciting a gasp from you and faux display of hurt from Felix who clutches his heart and pretends to cry.

“You’re single?” you look up to find Chan looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face and you wonder why he directed his question at you even though Felix was sitting right beside him.

Before you can respond, Minho speaks up on your behalf.

“(y/n)’s been single ever since high school, I think they’re gonna die single and lonely.”

“Am not!” you stick out your tongue at him, “also I did date in uni.”

“Two weeks doesn’t count,” Minho smirks, “you didn’t even kiss him.”

“And how would you know that?” you challenge, glaring at him now.

Chan listened to the conversation curiously, hearing you talk for the longest time since the evening.

“Did you?” Minho’s eyes widen and you feel like they might pop out of their sockets if he kept staring any longer.

“No…but that’s not the point,” you grumble, hiding your face behind your glass and looking away.

“Why don’t you and Felix try dating once, huh? I’ve been waiting for y’all to get together since forever.”

You choke on your drink, suddenly embarrassed at all the attention. How did the conversation turn to your very prospective dating life all of a sudden? Granted Minho may be drunk, but he was better at holding his alcohol. You feel an apprehension when you look over and notice the smug grin he has on, regarding you through narrow eyes.

“What?” you splutter, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and ignoring the way Chan stares at you, “why would you even say that?”

Felix chooses that exact moment to lean in and cling onto your hand, rubbing his face against your shoulder. You know he’s had one too many drinks, and if you didn’t then he made it very obvious when he mumbled against your neck.

“Yeah (y/n),” he pouted, “if both of us are single by the time we’re forty, let’s get married!”

You laugh endearingly, letting him nuzzle his face closer for warmth, the tip of his nose cold against your skin and you shiver.

“Okay Felix, only if you promise to do the laundry,” you tease.

“Shit don’t do it Lix, it’s a trap!” Minho scoffs, leaning into Seungmin who nods vehemently, also under the influence of more alcohol than he can usually tolerate.

“For my beloved (y/n), anything! I will even cook and clean and take the dog out for walks!” he proclaims. You giggle, stroking his blonde hair gently and it seems to draw him closer.

“Okay Lix, whatever you say. Oh, you’re going to make such an amazing husband one day!”

Felix simply giggles like a child, hiding his face behind his hand as he leans away and slouches across the table, the tips of his ears now red, poking out.

Minho shakes his head disagreeably, sending you a nasty glare which you respond to by sticking out your tongue. While Felix stills remains slouched on the table, probably asleep you figure, but none of you have the heart to wake him up, Minho falls into a quiet conversation with a slightly drunk and sleepy Seungmin, the two huddling close and speaking in soft tones completely ignoring you and Chan who are left alone in an awkward silence.

Chan clears his throat, gaining your attention before mumbling an ‘excuse me’ and leaving the table to step outside. You follow his movements, moving the plastic curtain and shuffling out into the cold night, standing under the makeshift awning. He lights a cigarette and puffs in air, smoking out clouds which disappear into the night, distorted behind the plastic curtain, the orange glow splitting into a line whenever he brings up the stick to his lips.

Downing the last few drops in your glass, you excuse yourself too, though you don’t think anybody listens – Minho is far too invested in playing with Seungmin’s hair while the latter hums happily against his shoulder and Felix is, well…passed out, probably – and make your way out too, pushing the curtain aside and shivering when the cold wind hits you. Nights in the mountains get chillier by the hour and you’re glad you’re wearing a thicker cardigan tonight.

Chan looks up from where he’s standing, smiling in greeting when you come to stand beside him. The silence shared outside is shared comfortably, with all the late night buzz of people and veiled chattering around you. A few street lights line the street, glowing warm yellow under a darkened blanket studded with little silver dots that twinkle brightly without any clouds in sight. It’s a moonless night, but there’s enough light around you to make out Chan’s face; not entirely hidden in the dark but illuminated in a muted yellow glow that lines his side, sloping down his nose and falling onto his lips before disappearing under his chin.

The smoke from his lips coils into the air in a grey haze before disappearing into the air. You sniffle, warily eyeing the stick between his puckered lips, folding your arms across your chest when another wind blows.

“Those things aren’t really good for you, you know” you comment, feeling awfully like a nagging mother, always confronting him about his smoking habits whenever you see him. You almost snort at the revelation.

“Ah…sorry, I’ve been trying to quit too, but it just…force of habit.”

You smile sadly, tucking your chin in your neck and leaning against a wooden pole.

“I heard about your father,” Chan’s voice is cautiously quiet in the night, the syllables coming out hushed and apologetic, “I’m sorry about him.”

“Don’t be, we saw it coming but he was worse off than we had hoped,” you reply just as quietly, but without the tremor that had been present in your voice some years ago. In fact, you don’t think you’ve talked about your father in a long while, not even with your mother. It makes you slightly sad that the first time you’re doing this is because of an old friend who, until recently, hadn’t even been in contact with you.

“It was…it was all the smoking he did…the cancer, I mean.”

You sniffle, looking up at the sky, eyes mindlessly following the clusters of stars twinkling silently.

“Ah shit…I’m so sorry. Does this make you feel uncomfortable?”

You shake your head in denial, but even so you both know it does. You know you don’t want to see someone smoking in front of you; it had been difficult enough to get over that particular phase in your life where you blatantly disliked people for smoking, but you slowly got over the fact that you had no say in how they should live their life or not. Not everybody who smoked ended up with cancer after all. But you also knew that you would always try to help your friend quit, because quite frankly, you were the type to be haunted by the fear of something that had the tendency to scar you.

When you were seven, you had fallen off the monkey bars and bruised your knees pretty badly – the scars are still there, a dark patch against your skin – and you had a huge fear of the accursed bars, steering clear of it ever since. Then you grew up and grew taller and your fingers coiled around the cold metal bars without even having to lift your feet off the ground and you realised that it was no fun that way anymore; it was much more fun and exciting when your feet swung in air and your muscles strained trying to hold on to the slippery bars. There was a beauty in having to risk your seven year old soul to hang on to some monkey bars for dear life, something you had missed out on for the longest time in your life.

Then of course, there was your fear of water. You may have never mastered the element, but once you learn to float and keep your head above the water in the deeper end, you wonder why you had been scared in the first place.

Chan throws the cigarette on the ground and stubs it with his feet, picking it off and throwing it in the dustbin nearby. The silence prevails as he leans beside you. The smell of smoke remains in the air, stagnant and pungent under your nose.

Shuffling on your feet, you dig into the pocket of your jeans, fumbling around as you struggle to pull something out of it.

“Here,” you say, handing it out to Chan who regards the lollipop between your fingers with visible confusion but accepts it gingerly nonetheless, “I would rather you died of diabetes than cancer.”

The chuckle that he lets out is easygoing, tumbling from his lips like tiny bells, chiming into the night charmingly. You know you've heard it countless times before, but it makes you feel warm out here in the cold, like a sweet blanket of comfort and nostalgia.

“Why do I die either way?” he questions, snorting at your proclamation. You shrug, sharing a smile.

“It’s a better way to go?'' It sounds more like a question but doesn’t stop Chan’s amused laughter.

“You became funnier after all this time,” he teases, surrendering by putting his hands up when you threaten to hit him.

“So, do you always carry candies with you wherever you go?” he asks, fiddling with the patterned wrapper.

“No, Lix gave it to me. He’s always got some sort of sweet with him, god maybe he’ll get diabetes one of these days.”

“Is there something between you and Felix?” you miss the slight frown on his face and the nervous lip biting, his fingers fiddling with the crinkling wrapper of the candy between them.

“No, why would you think that?” as if realising the answer to your question you add, “Minho was just joking back then.”

“Oh, I thought you might. He’s just very…”

“Clingy? Sweet boyfriend material, makes everybody fall in love with him wherever he goes and whatever he does?” you raise a brow when Chan trails off, smiling teasingly when he sputters out another laugh, flustered.

“Yeah!”

“That’s just the way he is,” you snort, “isn’t he adorable though?”

You both take this moment to glance inside where you left the three boys. Sure enough, Felix is now cupping his cheeks between his hands, red faced and hiccuping with his eyes half closed and lips out in a pout like a duck, looking around like a lost kitten. He's had one too many drinks and you can tell; his elbow keeps slipping off the table and he glares in confusion as if to gauge the problem. Sharing a glance you both burst out laughing, doubling over yourselves as the giggles erupt out of you from nowhere.

The night is chilly, but as you both huddle close, laughing over something small and mundane as a silly friend who’s had too much to drink, you feel your cheeks warm and tummies tremble in merriment.

Chan laughs with his whole body, the chimes of his joy gurgling up from his chest like butterflies that fly around you with pretty wings. Unknowingly, you start filing away little things about Chan in a place that were fond to you in your memories, like a small cabinet of his quirks. The cute dimple on his cheek, the way his eyes turn into crescents and can’t stay open when he laughs too hard, his hands which circle his waist or often find respite behind his neck when he’s too sheepish and the way the silver rings in his ears tremble all the while he’s shaking with joy.

You let yourself bask in this moment, ignoring the voice in your head telling you not to enjoy so much. It gets drowned under the horde of butterflies that circle over it, out of its reach and high above as you watch with a longing to reach out and let one sit on your finger. You stay rooted though, keeping your hands to yourself, afraid you might damage its wings if you so much as brush against its petal like fragility.

The flap of their wings send a wave of small breeze towards you, gentle and almost akin to a fever kiss, fanning your hot face and urging you to look at them past the shambles of your ruined castle walls with moss and wreck. They fly too high and you have to crane your neck just to look. They’re free, without a threat of being captured inside glass cases or having their wings clipped and you know in that moment you wouldn’t want anything happening to them.

Maybe one day, one of these winged wonders will approach you and let you lend your finger to sit.

Chan walks home that night with a spring in his step and a smile that never leaves his lips, the lollipop inside the pocket of his hoodie with its tiny but obvious weight and crinkling wrapper.

It’s too sweet for him, but he finds that sucking on it does indeed act as a substitute in the long run. He sleeps at night with the lingering taste of cherry at the back of his tongue and a warm memory of shared laughter in the cold night. It spreads through his body and lulls him to a comfortable sleep.

The straightened wrapper of candy finds a home in his bedside drawer, placed carefully beside his camera.

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